by Erika Kelly
Love. He swooped down and kissed that word right out of her mouth. She loves me. And when she clasped a hand around his neck and angled him right where she wanted him, he lost it. Scooping her into his arms, he carried her over to the library table in the middle of the room and perched her right on the edge.
Breathing in her scent awakened every cell in his body. He tumbled into the soft, wet heat of her mouth. And, damn, it felt so good. His heart swelled with desire and hope, rousing a want so deep and intense he could barely contain it.
“Fuck, wild thing.” He nuzzled her ear, licked the shell. “I need you.”
“I need you, too.” Her hands gripped his biceps. “So much.”
His hands caressed down her slender back, pausing at the swell of her ass, and when her fingernails scraped across his scalp, he shoved up the skirt of her dress and palmed her smooth thighs.
Her legs banded around his hips, pulling him tightly up against him.
“Goddammit, Callie.” He slid a hand into the V of her dress and cupped the plump swell of her breast. “So fucking hot.”
She moaned. “Fin.” Her hand pushed between them, grasping his erection through his jeans.
His breath hitched, as desire streamed like liquid fire through his veins. His hips rocked into her touch, and she tightened her grip.
A shock of light behind his eyelids had him jerking away. Someone rapped on the door. He heard voices outside.
“Oh, no.” Callie dropped off the table and shoved him. “Go.”
But it was too late. At the window a television camera was aimed right at them. Anger cracked through him. “Who the hell is that?”
“Callie?” Stan called. “You want to let us in?”
“I’m sorry. He said he was coming at five-thirty. Is this…what does this mean for your cover?”
“Don’t worry about that right now. It’s show-time.” He tipped his chin. Go. When she hesitated, he forced a smile. “They don’t know it’s me. Go on and let them in.” He pressed a kiss to her mouth and took off for the back exit.
Voices flooded the room, and he heard Stan say, “Thought I’d let them in before the crowds come. Give you a chance to give them a private tour.”
“That sounds great.” Calliope was back, but this time it made Fin smile because she was so damn good at what she did. “Come on in.”
“Where’d Fin go? We ought to interview him, too. Pretty funny, right? Fin Bowie, the World’s Worst Boyfriend, helping set up the exhibition?”
Laughter filled the room.
At the back door, Fin closed his eyes.
He’d just lost the cover. For good this time.
Fin’s headlight illuminated the bright yellow post reflectors on the old bunk house. A mix of elk and bear crossings and stolen street signs glowed in the darkness. He cut the engine and waited for Callie to get off his bike.
What’s done is done. Besides, he wouldn’t know the fall-out—if it came—until morning. Maybe he’d get lucky and National Adventurer wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about the meme anymore.
The important thing was that Callie’s opening had gone well. And they were together.
He’d waited a long damn time to be with her again.
She propped her chin on his shoulder. “You brought me to your lair?”
It hadn’t occurred to him she’d want to celebrate. “You want to do something? Get a drink at the Cellar?” He’d just wanted to be alone with her. Didn’t want to go near social media or get calls from his manager.
“Oh, God, no. All that socializing sucked the energy out of me.” With her hands on his waist, she slid off and set the helmet on the seat. “This is perfect. I have you all to myself.”
Fuck, yeah.
Taking her hand, he led her to the door, sucking in the fresh pine-scented mountain air. The porch had a row of rocking chairs. Usually when he hid out here, he sat outside, listening to the coyotes howl and the owls hoot. But not tonight. Tonight, he wanted to be alone with his woman. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Flicking the light switch, he went straight for the kitchen. At the refrigerator, he said, “Water? OJ? Lemonade?”
“Lemonade, please.” She stood in the entryway, taking in the foosball, ping pong, and air hockey tables that took up one side of the long rectangular building and the large, modern kitchen and custom-made dining table on the other. Couches, lounge chairs, and a few scattered tables filled out the room. “Nothing’s changed.”
“You were just here for the wedding.”
“Yeah, but it obviously didn’t look like this.” She smiled. “Like a giant man-cave.” Her smile faded. “It has so many memories.”
It struck him—that’s why I brought her here tonight. Here, they’d been their best selves. Away from family, friends, all the outside bullshit. Just them, real, whole, and true. “Good ones?”
“The best.” She let out a wistful sigh. “It’s just confusing. Two hours ago I was wearing a designer dress and acting like a museum curator. Now I’m in jeans and back in the place I lost my virginity.”
“You weren’t acting. You single-handedly curated that exhibition.”
A smile lit her features.
“What?”
“You called it an exhibition.”
He smiled. He’d just been giving her a hard time.
She headed into the kitchen. “I love that it went so well, but what will it cost you?”
“Don’t know, but I’m not going to waste time guessing. It’ll be what it’ll be.” He reached into the fridge and pulled out a lemonade.
“What if you lose the cover?” On her way, she picked up a basket of napkins that had been knocked over. “Stan made a big deal out of the fact that the actual World’s Worst Boyfriend helped put the exhibition together. At least he didn’t mention the community service part.”
“I’m not gonna make myself crazy over something that’s beyond my control.” He handed her the cold bottle and then headed for the air hockey table. He hit the switch, and the motor started humming. He raised his brow in challenge.
“Are you sure?” She gave a fake look of concern. “I don’t want to make your night any worse by kicking your ass.”
“Been playing a lot of air hockey in New York City?”
“I might not have had much playtime over the years…” Setting her bottle down, she rolled her shoulders, laced her fingers together, and cracked her knuckles. “But I’m pretty sure this country girl hasn’t lost her touch.” She dug a plastic disc out of the goal box and dropped it onto the table. Grabbing her striker, she cocked her elbow and took her first shot.
Within seconds, the sounds of clacking filled the room. They played fast and furiously, neither willing to accept defeat. Only when she unzipped her sweatshirt to reveal the plump cleavage bursting out of a low-cut black tank top did her puck slip past him and land in the box. Sirens went off in celebration.
He cut her happy dance short by immediately retrieving the puck and shooting it across the table. Even with her quick reflexes, it slid right in.
“It’s air hockey.” She straightened. “Not a blood sport.”
“I think you know I play to win.”
“It’s me.”
“Fuck, yeah, it’s you. And since you’re gonna resort to showing me your tits to win, then it’s game on.”
She burst out laughing. Damn, he felt good. Footage of him getting busy with Callie on a table might be going viral right then, blowing his shot at the cover, but he was back with his wild thing. So, when the puck came winging across the table, Fin lunged to block it. Crack. It soared back to her side, and she threw her body into the save, making her breasts jiggle. As soon as he whacked it, his gaze slid to the feminine slope of her shoulders and those hands that had always given him so much pleasure. He heard the smack about a second before the puck slid cleanly into the goal.
Callie pumped her arms and jumped up and down.
A love so strong it didn’t fit inside h
is body had him setting down the striker and stalking toward her. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I love every fucking thing about you.”
Excitement glittered in her eyes, and he cupped the back of her neck and drew her to him. His mouth sealed over hers, hot and wet, his tongue stroking inside and taking what he needed.
Leaning against the table, he pushed the hair off her face. He let her know with his kiss that she was essential to him. That, over a lifetime of knowing each other, his passion for her had never waned. Never would. Her palms pressed on his back, and her leg hitched, mashing their bodies tightly together.
His heart thundered when her hands pushed under the waistband of his jeans and squeezed his bare ass. “Fuck, Callie.” His voice was more a growl.
“You make me crazy.” Her breath whispered over his skin. “When we’re not together, God, I just feel like I’m missing something.”
“Something?”
“My heart.”
He could see what it cost her to say it, and it made him smile. “Yeah, wild thing. That’s right. I’m your heart.” He lifted her off the ground. Her legs banded around his hips, and he carried her to the couch. “And you’re mine.” He didn’t give her a moment to think before he pressed down on her, his hands sliding under her back. He lowered his mouth until it hovered over hers. “Guess that means we’re stuck with each other.”
He got lost inside that kiss, just dove under, right into the wet heat, the restlessness of her hands and rocking of her hips. Her scent called to him at the most primal level. He slid a hand underneath her tank top, and his body went up in flames at the feel of her warm, smooth skin.
Her legs cinched around him, her hands skimming up his back under his T-shirt. Her touch—so possessive, so hungry—made him wild. Goddammit, I love this woman.
He grabbed a handful of fabric at the back of his neck and yanked his T-shirt over his head, giving her the space to peel off her jeans. Her pale skin against the coffee-colored leather couch made her seem vulnerable, soft, and unbearably feminine.
Overwhelmed, he buried his face in her neck. “Callie.” Tugging up her tank top, he rocked against her. “Get this off.”
She rose to pull it over her head and then reached for the bra clasp behind her back. When the straps slackened, she reached between them and rubbed him through his jeans.
And then her gaze flicked up, a mischievous grin spreading across her features. Her tongue peeked out, making a slow slide across her lips, as she popped the top button, then the second. Blood surged into his cock. He sucked in a sharp breath, hips straining. He wanted the slick heat of her mouth on him more than he wanted to breathe.
Tossing the bra aside, she placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back hard enough to topple him on his ass. Her fingers went back to his jeans and, as she hovered over him, those beautiful breasts bounced with each flick of her wrist. Once she got that last button undone, she grasped him. Her warm, sure fingers slid up his length. Lust swept through him so fast, he squeezed his eyes closed and thrust into her grip.
She gave him a firm squeeze, before flattening her hand and stroking his cock with the heel of her palm. Ass hiked in the air, her mouth closed over the tip and she sucked him in.
His hips shot off the cushion, and he palmed the back of her head, keeping her right there while that slick, hot tongue leisurely licked the sensitive head. “Fuck, wild thing.” His legs jerked, but the jeans restricted him.
Pushing her back, he jerked them down and kicked them off his feet. “Need to be inside you.” But as he loomed over her, gripping her thighs to spread her wide for him, she stretched out beneath him on the couch and grabbed his ass. A hiss of breath left his lips, as she brought his cock back to her mouth. He had to grab the armrest to keep from collapsing on top of her when she sucked him to the back of her throat.
Oh, fuck. “Yes.”
Her tongue zigzagged along his length, her hands holding him to her face. Glancing down, he got a glimpse of her hips shifting impatiently, her tits bouncing and swaying, and the beast in him roared. “Jesus, Callie.” So fucking good.
She gazed up, her slick, hot mouth full of his cock, as she licked lusty circles around the head and then lapped at the sensitive spot just under the ridge.
Electric heat burned and pulsed along his nerves. He rocked his hips, harder, faster, the quickening tension coiling so hard he knew he couldn’t last much longer. When she moaned, the vibration coursed up his cock, making his spine tingle. He pulled out. “Gotta have you.”
But just as he leaned back, his gaze snagged on her. He’d never seen anything sexier in his life than Callie’s mouth swollen and wet, her expression filled with raw, carnal need.
He pushed off the armrest and straddled her, reaching for her breasts. Cupping them, he plumped them together and dropped his face into her cleavage. When she slid a hand between them and grasped his hot, hard, erection, sensation burst across his skin.
He thrust into her hand—once, twice, a third time—the pleasure so fierce he had to shut his eyes to hold it all in—before turning his attention to her. He licked her nipple, then sucked it into his mouth. She arched into him, her other hand going to the back of his head to keep him right where she wanted him. The sounds she made as he caressed one breast and flicked his tongue on the other nipple only made him grow harder, heavier. He had to have her now.
Sitting back on his heels, he tore her panties off her hips. Just before diving in, he noticed her hesitation. “What?”
“Nothing.” She swallowed, looking at his collarbone.
“Callie…what…” Fuck, he was so hard he hurt. “What’s going on?”
Her gaze flicked up, a hint of vulnerability. “Do I look…different to you?”
“I don’t know.” But he could see his answer mattered, so he took in the body that turned him on like no other. “I guess a little. Rounder, fuller.” Lush. And then reality tore through the fog of lust. “You think you’re fat?”
“Not fat, but my body’s changed. I just…I don’t know what you see.”
Tamping down his body’s demands, he took her in and saw nothing but his beautiful, sexy woman. “When I look at you my heart beats so fast I think I’m having a heart attack. I see the woman who doesn’t take anyone’s shit, and the woman who turned a crappy breakup into one hell of a great life for herself. I see the woman who looks at me like she wants to ride my cock one minute and wring my neck the next. I see you, Callie. I see us. And there’s nothing I want more in this life. Now, can I fucking have you?” He knew he sounded desperate, almost angry. But he didn’t want her to waste one more second being self-conscious around him.
With a sexy smile, she shifted her thighs to welcome him. “Well, when you put it that way…”
He appreciated her teasing smile, but he was too far gone. “Let it all go, Callie. Just let everything go so we can put ourselves back together again.”
Passion softened her features. “I want that so much.”
He lowered his face between her legs, kissing her inner thighs, and then licking a path to her center. Joy flooded him, as her thighs opened for him. She let him into her body and heart. Both hands clamped on her hips, holding her in place, as he licked inside of her.
“God, Fin.” Her knees lifted, the soles of her feet planted on either side of his head, and she grabbed his hair. Her hips rocked against his face. “I’m not…I’m gonna…Oh.”
Her ass lifted off the couch, and she kept herself pressed to his mouth.
“Don’t stop. Don’t…Fin.” She cried out as she shattered beneath him.
When her body crashed back down and her hands fell from his hair, he loomed over her and kissed her mouth with everything he had. Gripping his painfully hard shaft, he guided himself into her.
The crown nudged at her opening, when she pushed him back. “We didn’t talk about it last time, but…condoms?”
“You said you were on the pill.” He dropped his head to her shoulder.<
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“I am. It’s not about me. Julian and I—”
“I don’t want to hear about you and Man-Bracelet.”
“I’m just saying I’ve always used a condom. And I haven’t been all that…active.”
Jesus, his cock ached for release. “Then we’re good?”
She pushed him off her. “It’s not about me. It’s you. Your sex life.”
He took himself in hand and squeezed against the pressure. “Wild thing, I don’t have a sex life.”
“Cut it out. It’s not like I haven’t seen you with other women.” She made a sound very close to a snort. “You’re a very sexual man.”
“Yeah, I’ve been with other women.” He couldn’t hold back the smile. “I’ve traveled with women, eaten dinner with women, boarded with women, hiked with women, gone shopping with women…but I haven’t had sex with any of them.”
She eyed him warily. “A blow job is still sex.”
“Callie. I haven’t been with anyone since you.”
“Oh, shut up. You’ve had sex.” But it sounded more like a question.
“I haven’t even kissed another woman.”
“In six years?”
“Since the night before you left for New York.” They’d had crazy sex on a mattress in his bedroom, under the skylight that August night. He’d been half out of his mind with love for her, fearful about what moving to New York would mean for his place within his family—meaning, would they stop needing him as a coach?—and dreading either decision he made, because both would have equally catastrophic consequences.
He smoothed the hair off her beautiful face. “Why would I settle for anything else when I know what it’s like with you?”
“Oh, Fin.” His name came out a whisper, as she drew him to her.
And then he slid home, and nothing had ever felt so good.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Callie’s body hadn’t even cooled down before Fin’s breathing evened out. As soon as he’d collapsed on top of her, he’d rolled to the side. He had his back against the couch cushion, face burrowed in her neck, and arm slung across her stomach, holding on like she might slip away in the dead of night.