Secrets of Desire
She finds the book one late afternoon. She is letting the hours of the afternoon burn into an early slow evening together with the fire in the fireplace in the small living room while it is drizzling outside.
In the house she is currently sharing with Miles and Monroe she has found a small room with one window, one small wooden desk and a couple of bookshelves against the wall on her right. The books are still there after many years, untouched. A luxurious treasure in this blackout world where books hold the stories of a word long forgotten.
The late pale afternoon light streams in through the glass of the large window in front of her. The rain outside brushes the red, orange and golden leaves in a sad and grey landscape of mid autumn.
Her boots make soft noises when they brush the wooden floor under her. She lets her eyes move over the covers and titles before her. And then, she finds it. Standing modestly, discreetly and silently between the others. A deep autumn red draped all over the cover, the letters of the title on the spine of the book small and faded. But the words secrets and love have made it through time. Charlie looks over her shoulder before she dares to reach for it. Her heart beating just a little bit faster than it should over the sound of the silence in the hallway.
Monroe and his partner in crime in all crimes involving whiskey, her uncle, are somewhere outside on the porch, drinking or doing whatever it is they do these days when there is no adult supervision in the form of her mom around. She lets her eyes move over the letters. Her heartbeat and soemthing swirling low in her belly that moves in a pleasant yet bold way to her chest, tells her this is not like any other book.
Charlie listens. She only hears the sounds of the drizzle and the low voices of Miles and Monroe fading into the autumn afternoon and rain outside. And then she slowly reaches for the book. She moves it away from the shelf and other books. The book is heavy in the palm of her hand as her fingers gently trail over the front cover. The weight of the book is now gently in her hands as the scent of the paper from the book moves towards her. The red of the cover lush and yet deep. Reminding her somehow of the deep colour of the fullniss of soft red lips.
Her eyes move back to the front cover. There is a detail of a picture on the cover of two people entangled in each other in a stimulating, breathless and yet raw sensual and at the same time beautiful way that makes her heartbeat even stronger and faster.
She opens the book, her eyes going over the many illustrations of something that has only been quick, fast and meaningless to her. Until now. There are many illustrations in the book, giving her a new enticing sense of what it can be. Soft. Loving. Intense, hard. Stimulating.
It had makes her aware of the place where her thighs meet. It makes her skin warm and tingle. It makes her heartbeat go faster with every turn of every page. Her mind is racing, busy imagining what it would be like, what it would feel like. What it would be like if it was her. If it is her with that someone there in those pictures. That someone who could make her feel exactly the same way that is oozing from those pictures in front of her.
The details of the images are filling her thoughts. She takes some time to read the words on the pages that are sensual instructions with the pictures. They are overwhelming with all kinds of new possibilities and new to her and filling all of her mind and belly and senses. it is just her and the book and how the book plays with her body and senses.
Until she hears a pair of boots, and then another one. Inside the house. A door closing at the other side of the house and Monroe's voice reaching her before Miles' voice does. Her head jerks up from the pages in front of her as regrets fills her belly for having to part with the book. She quickly shoves the book back in its place with haste in her fingertips.
When she walks through the hallway on her way back to the living room she tells herself to calm down. The images of the book are still burning inside of her belly and are keeping her company with every step she tooks towards the living room, Miles and Monroe. She cannot outrun what the book just woke up in her. The book is still tugging at her, and it is already inviting her to visit it again.
She walks into the living room and walks straight into the banter of the two men children she is sharing this house with now her mom is helping Aaron to get Priscilla and their life back to the normal it will never be.
Charlie made the decision to get on the road with Miles and Monroe herself and to fight where and when they can to remove the last and final waves of Kaki threat to humanity. She felt she needed the fresh air, the rhythm and freedom of being on the road like she needed nothing else and she is realizing, day by day, the three of them can indeed do this, together. Fight, live, be.
'...I'm hungry Miles.' Bass grunts, while he leans against the kitchen counter of the small kitchen. Charlie's eyes soak up black leather jacket, broad shoulders and blue eyes that even on a grey autumn day like today, are still a piercing, captivating blue.
'You are always hungry, you moron.' Miles shoots back while he is leaning against the kitchen table with his arms crossed before his chest. He is a bit taller tham Bass, but both man are almost the same height as they are hungry.
He is looking from Bass to her with anticipation, when she walks into the kitchen and to the both of them. She hopes her cheeks do not look as warm as they still feel. Her hands and arms are answering to the need to cross them before her chest. Both Miles and Bass look at her like she has all the answers to their what's for dinner tonight problem.
'Well then...time to feed Monroe.' Charlie smirks, earning her a glare from Monroe and a grin from Miles.
She is almost on her way to grab the meat she has caught earlier when Miles has to open his stupid mouth. Of course he has to. He is her uncle and the former General of a whole damn Republic. It is his job to pay attention. She feels Miles' eyes going to her cheeks. Or maybe she is just imagining it, that one book and the inviting stimulating images still close to her.
'You all right kid?' Miles asks with a small frown on his face.
'I am fine, Miles... just a long day trapped inside.' Charlie nods to the rain outside which comes down harder now.
Thick drops of rain are falling from endless grey clouds and are beating against the windows as theyr reach their destination. The contours of the trees outside are slowly fading against the deepening grey sky. She sighs in the hope that she sounds believable. Truth is, she is fine, but she is also a lot of other things right now.
Charlie looks at Monroe, the large, tall and all kinds of annoying wall that is currently standing between her and the plates inside the kitchen cabinet behind him. She walks over to him and pushes him out of the way using the outside of her right leg. She cannot deny the heated wave of her leg making contact with the hard firm arch of his side and upper thigh with her hip.
She ignores the small smirk that appears around his stupid mouth nowadays when she is not afraid to come near him, or even worse, touch him. The asshole seems to find personal pleasure and a very personal victory in every moment she is close to him. She does not allow him the pleasure of her rolling her eyes at him. It only seems to make things worse.
Of course the stupid ass has to open his mouth too, his lips curled in that sly lazy pleased happy grin that is Monroe.
'You sure you are all right ...Charlotte.' She does roll her eyes now at the dramatic pause he takes and the way she is Charlotte now, not Charlie. 'Because I have to say..you look a little flushed.' He presses his lips together in that arrogant way he masters with perfection, while he looks straight at her. He is close enough to take in his scent and she is way too aware of that scent all of sudden. He has to move. Now. She sure as hell is not going too.
She looks at him, as she raises one eyebrow. 'And you are in my way Monroe. Move.'
She ignores the blazing blue of his eyes and the chuckle of her uncle's grin behind her, as she can still feel that blazing blue of him on her all the way through dinner.
One day later and the rain has not stopped. There is no news from Blanchard. It keeps them all locked in this safe house for another day with no current assigments. Miles spends the better first part of the day in his room, waking up late with a hangover and getting up for some whiskey and some whining directed at Bass.
Charlie spends the better part of her days with other books on the small but soft and wide chair in the far right corner of the room that does not have that draft that roams the room when the wind picks up. It is close enough to the fire to stay warm but far enough from a hung over uncle and his path from his room to the kitchen.
She is reading a book. Not that book. Not the book that keeps demanding her attention. The images are still flowing through her mind the night before when she had tried to get some sleep.
It is an early afternoon. She craves for something to warm her up. She gets up as Monroe does not look up from his spot near the fireplace where he is drinking a glass of whiskey and is reading as well.
In the small kitchen, Charlie make some of the tea she has found the second day of their stay here. On the other side of the house, she can hear Miles waking up as his feet hit the wooden floor. She can mentally see the picture of him putting on his boots but not bothering with the laces.
She fills her mug with hot water and a smile around her lips as the scent of tea fills the kitchen. Her fingers always seem to be cold these days. She curls them with contentment around the large mug as she walks back into the living room.
Monroe is sitting on a chair close to the fire not far, but far enough, from her. She is about to take that first warm sip from her tea as she sees it. Right there on his lap in between some other books. Later she will realize, that he chose that moment for her to let her see it. That he somehow had found it. That he knew she did too. That book. Her eyes fall on that one book with lush red on the cover and the images that stayed with her until she had finally fallen asleep with warm fingers sated on her lower belly.
Charlie is sure it had not been there when she had walked out of the room to make some tea. It had not been there when Miles was still asleep and not walking his ass into the living room as he does now.
And that means, as she will later realize too, that Monroe had waited for this exact moment. There it was. On his lap. That one book that she had placed back on that shelve. With haste. But she had believed she had done so with care. Apparently living with a highly trained soldier, the other General of a Republic and paranoid ex dictator meant she had not been careful enough when she had placed the book back on the shelve between the others.
Charlie can feel her heartbeat inside her chest as her breathing gets harsher and faster and she feels her breathing all the way through her belly when Monroe locks eyes with her and she has a mug of steaming tea in her hand. The book, her book, lies between other books on his knee. He is flipping with an arrogant smug look in his eyes through a book that is on top of the small pile with a glass of whiskey casually in his wide hand. The pile contains novels and books of history he somehow managed to find in the house. But Charlie could not care less about them.
She hears Miles walk through the room behind her, but she is not able to look away from Monroe. Charlie's mouth feels dry and she feels hot waves shoot to her cheeks.
She even forgets to be pissed for just a couple of seconds. But then, she sees it. That slow burning arrogant pleased with himself look in his eyes that curls all the way around his lips. And she is starting to realize he planned this. The asshole did. She just knows. And then Charlie pulls herself together and the words arrogant stupid asshole start to ring through her mind.
She stares at Monroe while he stares nonchalantly at her and for one second she cannot control her tongue, the tip brushing her bottom lip. She gives him her best annoyed glare right after that.
But of course it does not matter, that smug grin of his, mixed with something else Charlie does not want to see now, stays on his damn face. Miles stays in the room too.
'What's that?' Miles saunters towards the both of them near the fireplace. Making Charlie feel as overheated as the tea in her hands and while she stands right in front of Monroe and too close to her uncle. Her mind racing too figure out what his next move will be.
'That's a book you moron.' Bass looks at Miles, his voice is raspy and slow and low, so low Charlie can feel it inside her belly. And then, Bass looks straight at her, 'You should try it sometimes.'
Charlie is not sure if he is talking about literature in general or about something else completely anymore. All she knows that the swirl inside of her needs to stop. Now. But she still refuses to let go of the lock of their eyes he initiates.
Miles has decided this topic is way too boring for an early hung over afternoon and does not pay any more attention to his brother and the pile of books on his lap. He walks straight into the kitchen with a bored yawn and in need of a glass of whiskey. Or a bottle. Whatever he will find first.
Right before Charlie curls up on her place on the couch she feels his eyes on her, and he adjusts the books so red lush disappears back into deep brown and faded covers.
Later that afternoon, she needs a break and some fresh air. Monroe has not uttered one single word to her the past hours. Neither did Miles. Daylight is still there but the air is grey and the grey light outside puts a gloomy light over the deep coloured autumn leaves.
Charlie breathes in the cool clean autumn air the moment she feels it when she opens the kitchen door that leads to a wooden porch that is build around the back of the house.
Of course she is not the only one who has decided he could need some air. Apparently. Right across from her and leaning against the banister of the porch is Monroe himself. His eyes are on her the moment she walks outside. Charlie raises her eyebrow slightly but the rest of her face stays into special Monroe mode. Refusing to turn around and walk inside.
She came here for fresh air so she is staying for fresh air. She walks up to the banister. Her back is now turned towards the house and her elbows rest on the wood of the banister as she leans into it.
They do not talk as the sound of rain on leaves and the roof of the porch above them does the talking for them. Charlie tries to ignore him. But there is a lot of Monroe on the porch with her.
She can sense him, like she can sense a deer on her way to her and approaching her in the distance of a dense forest while she is hunting.
He steps a bit closer to her, and he isstanding right behind her. Her back is still turned towards him. He is tall. So tall. And close. So close. And somehow in a very impossible new way, not close enough because Charlie is all of sudden aware of every inch of distance between the both of them. When he finally opens his stupid mouth, there is a slow predatory pace in his words.
'You know...there are more interesting ways to experience some things than reading a damn book.'
She gasps against her own will but she has no choice. She hopes the soft sound did not reach him. She can almost feel him grin behind her. She can picture how he looks right now.
And then, when she expects him to say something more and be an even bigger ass he steps away from her as he lets the moment and the implications of his words burn between them in a way that makes her have to take a breath between the pressure building low inside of her belly.
She feels the contours and weight of his body behind her move away behind her when his boots hit the wood of the porch.
He has almost reached the kitchen door when he stops and looks at her. Charlie feels the overwhelming urge to close her eyes but she resists. She cannot stop herself as she looks up. At him. And then, Monroe looks passed her and at the treeline around the the house before his eyes finally find her eyes with a precise aim that sends a shiver down her spine that has nothing to do with the autumn chillness in the air.
'My room is next to that study room, you know, the one with all the books...' More low gruff Monroe is oozing from his words as his eyes play with her whole body, '...one door down the hallway. '
The door falls shut as she watches Monroe walk inside, but it is the steel intensity in his eyes and the roughness of low words that stay with her long after Monroe has walked back inside.
Author's Note A little note, I do not own Revolution, this is fanfiction and a daydream about what could have happened too. I have been planning this story since autumn came closer. I love autumn and I love writing this sensual story! I am also working on a new piece called 'A gentle touch.' More about that one soon. Wishing you all a lot of great books and stories for this season..Love from Love