His lips are on her neck, his hand teasing back and forth over her belly, just above the waist of her pajama bottoms. She should be into this, she knows, but she's not. She's distracted. She's… guilty.
"Coop…. Not tonight," she whispers; she's unsurprised when he huffs his disappointment and plops his chin on her shoulder, but she doesn't really mind either. Sex is a new thing for them again, and he's been very patient, but very eager, and she's loathe to tell him no after makin' him wait so long (and truth be told, every time she does it she feels a little stronger, a little more herself, a little more right). But tonight, in one of the many guest rooms of Addison's parents' house… "Not here. This isn't our place."
He lifts his head and frowns down at her, then almost smirks. "Charlotte. We've done it in your office, my office, several supply closets, your childhood bed, Violet's couch, three restaurant bathrooms, we very nearly joined the mile high club twice, including on the way here… And I could go on. You're honestly saying no because 'this isn't our bed?'"
He has a point there, she supposes, so she just shrugs a shoulder and says. "It just seems… We're here for a funeral, and…" She trails off, studies his face for a second, and then just says what's really on her mind. "Does it bother you, bein' here? Seein' Archer? I mean, after what he and I… Does it bother you?"
His face softens, and he shifts next to her a little bit, settles onto his elbow and looks down at her. He threads their fingers together, rubs his thumb over her left ring finger, still bare even though she has her engagement ring back now, tucked away in her jewelry box at home. "I forgave you for that years ago."
"That's not what I asked you."
"You love me."
"Yes."
"You're gonna marry me."
"Yes."
"We're past this."
"...Yes."
"So… it doesn't matter anymore." He lifts her hand, kisses her ring finger, then her middle, her pointer, slides back over to her pinky to make sure he gets that one, too. "But it bothers you," he deduces.
Charlotte looks at where their hands are joined, squeezes her fingers against his. "Y'know, one of the reasons I didn't want to tell you the truth about the rape… was because I promised you, after Archer, that nobody else would ever get to be with me like you do. Not while we were together, and committed."
"Oh, Charlotte…" She hates the way he says it, all sympathetic, and she pushes ahead before he can make her feel even sillier about feelin' that way than she already does.
"And I know it wasn't my fault, and I know you'd never blame me for what happened, but… I felt it. Then. I wanted to hide it. I wanted to do exactly what I did after Archer – go home and take a shower so hot it nearly seared my skin off, scrub until I felt raw, and know I still wouldn't end up feelin' clean. And I know what it's like, losin' a parent, so I'm all for bein' here for Addison. I just wish Archer wasn't standin' there in front of me reminding me how ashamed I can feel about myself."
"We can go," he tells her, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her collarbone. "Right after the funeral tomorrow, if you want. We can just go home. If being here reminds you of what happened-"
She shakes her head, cuts him off. "No. It's not like that. It's not unbearable or consuming, it just kinda kills the mood, is all. Seein' him, rememberin' what we did."
"Ah." He nods a little, he gets it. "So no sex while we're here is what you're saying."
"Yeah. But when we get home," she assures him, "All bets are off. I'll screw your brains out just as soon as we're back in our own bed, okay?"
She smiles, and he laughs, tells her, "Deal," and then settles in next to her, drapes an arm across her belly and nuzzles his nose into her hair. The steady in-and-out of his breath seems overly loud against her ear, so she shifts her head just a little. Quieter now, tickling against her neck. Better. His lips brush her skin in a whisper of a kiss and she shivers involuntarily.
Fifteen minutes later, they're both still wide awake, so she heads down the kitchen in search of something to settle them both. What she finds (or really, what finds her) is a friend in need.
