Sips & Strokes: Love wasn't part of the deal

by Sarah Skye

  My face heats instantly as I bite my lip to keep from grinning. I quickly force myself to look away at a random sheet of paper on my desk. Almost busted.

  Because if anyone saw that goofy grin aching to break free on my face, they’d know something’s up between us.

  Ever since the whisky tasting and the beach bonfire after-party with Calder this weekend, I’ve been smiling non-stop.

  As I continue to stare at the piece of paper, my mind floats back to my favorite parts of that night: how he taught me to properly drink whisky, how he and I cuddled together on the beach, me kneading his thick, muscled thigh to the point of him having to bite back a groan, how he made me laugh until my sides ached… how I kissed him until we were breathless...

  It was the perfect night, even the part when I was so tired from all that alcohol and staying up into the wee hours of the morning, that Calder had to carry me half asleep back to his car. I fell asleep on the way home and had to be carried to my place. As much as I wanted to ravage him, I wasn’t in any shape to do so.

  Instead, I stripped myself and Calder down to our undies, pulled him into bed, then cuddled into each other until we both fell asleep. Not as hot as the first night we shared in my bed, but still completely and utterly satisfying.

  A few days later, and I’m aching to have him back in my bed as soon as humanly possible. That’s exactly why my heart is thudding in my chest, why my mouth is watering as I gaze at him. I don’t think I can take another day without him.

  I blink, and then it’s the end of class. The usual routine commences, with Calder robing up while I answer students’ questions as they filter out. When the last student leaves, I shut the door and turn to face Calder.

  “You need to watch it.” I aim my best serious look at him, but the sly grin on his face tells me I’m not convincing at all.

  “Do I, Professor?” he asks while slowly sauntering up to me, his hand on the belt of his robe.

  He stops when we’re just inches apart, seeming to remember the boundaries we’ve both agreed to abide by within the walls of the classroom.

  “If you keep shooting those sexy smiles at me, I’m going to lunge at you like a crazed animal.”

  He wags an eyebrow at me. “Why do you think I keep doing it?”

  I shove his shoulder as I chuckle and turn around to pack up my bag. “So do you have plans tonight?”

  When I look at him, Calder’s gazing at me with a hopeful expression on his face. “I was keeping my night open. For you.” He clears his throat. “No plans, then?”

  I shake my head, finally letting that goofy grin of mine loose.

  “Good. I have a surprise for you.”

  An hour later, I’m at Calder’s downtown condo. When I walk in the door, I’m not surprised at what I see. Typical single guy pad with a dark leather sectional, flatscreen TV, sleek coffee table, and minimal decor.

  When I turn to glance at his kitchen is when I see something I don’t expect at all. On the slate counter are bananas, a box of graham crackers, a bag of mini marshmallows, and a stack of chocolate bars.

  My mouth opens the slightest bit as I take in the surprise he’s set up for me.

  “I can’t believe you remembered,” I say softly.

  He winks when he smiles, but instead of making him look sly like that move normally does, he looks the slightest bit shy. Like he was nervous to see my reaction. It’s the sweetest thing in the world.

  “How could I forget? You were so happy when you told me the other night how much you loved this dessert.”

  I remember how in my tipsy state I gushed to Calder about my favorite childhood memory of making banana s’mores with my mom. I’m warm from the inside out at just how thoughtful his gesture is.

  I walk the few steps over to him, slink my arms around his neck, and press a slow kiss to his mouth. “This was the sweetest surprise ever. Thank you.”

  “My absolute pleasure, love.”

  My breath catches at the nickname he uses. He’s called me “love” countless times before, but not like this—not when he’s pulled a super sweet, super romantic gesture that’s straight from the heart.

  I swallow, my nerves buzzing. But he flashes that sly grin once more, and once more I’m giddy. I forget all about the implications of that nickname.

  “Now. Show me how you make these banana s’mores. I’m breaking my strict model diet to try them.”

  We settle into two lounge chairs on his balcony, that plushy plaid blanket over us. I breathe in, relishing the cool crispness of autumn. We’re stuffed with banana s’mores, gazing at the city twenty stories below us.

  I tuck the blanket under my thighs. “So. Was that worth possibly losing your six-pack for?”

  Calder grins and leans over to kiss my cheek. “Absolutely.”

  When he laces his fingers in mine, I let out a soft, satisfied hum. The twilight sky shines periwinkle blue. Muffled traffic sounds echo below us.

  I lean over and rest my head on Calder’s shoulder. “Thank you for that. It’s been forever since I’ve eaten banana s’mores.”

  “You don’t make them with your mom anymore?”

  I shake my head. “It’s been years. Not since I was in grade school.”

  “Why? I don’t mean to pry, but it’s clear how happy that dessert makes you. I’d think your mum would want to see you that happy all the time.”

  “Yeah, well, it became pretty clear early on that my happiness wasn’t what my mom or dad was concerned with.”

  Calder shifts, and I lift my head to look at him.

  “What do you mean by that?” he asks.

  I sigh. “I just mean that when I was a kid, life was a lot simpler. And fun. I wasn’t old enough for my parents to put serious pressure on me to go to the same college they went to or pursue the same careers. When I was a kid, they let me be a kid. Carefree, happy, uncomplicated, obsessed with dessert.”

  I pause to swallow and take in the darkening sky in front of us.

  “I remember the day that my mom came up with that recipe for banana s’mores. I was in kindergarten. I came home from school so proud of myself that I made two new friends. I remember the smile on my mom’s face and how she said, ‘well, we need to do something special to celebrate that, anak.’ And then she pulled out all the ingredients for s’mores from the pantry, grabbed a few bananas from the counter, and led me out to the backyard where our firepit was. And she whipped those up. I remember my dad came out and ate with us too to celebrate me making new friends. They said they were so proud of me.”

  I glance down at the ground, my smile from thinking of that memory fading slowly. Calder squeezes my hand gently.

  “But when I got older, things changed. They cared less about that sort of thing and more about the kind of adult I’d grow into—they wanted to make sure I was the right kind of adult, like them. And so celebrating making new friends went straight out the window. So did caring about my interest in art. They were fine with it when I was a kiddo, but once I hit high school, the focus changed completely. They wanted me to earn high grades and get to the top of my class. And when that shift happened, everything between us changed.”

  Calder squeezes my hand once more, and it’s more comforting than anything he could say.

  “I’m never this candid when it comes to talking about my family,” I say while gazing straight ahead at the sky. “You must bring it out in me.”

  When I twist my head to look at him, his gaze falls to the ground. He taps his socked feet lightly against the concrete floor. “I didn’t mean to bring up something sad. I’m sorry.”

  I tug lightly at his arm. He looks up at me. “I’m not. I’m happy to talk about these moments. They’re happy memories I have with my family. It’s been a while since I’ve had any. Thank you for reminding me that they’re still there.”

  A sad smile tugs at his mouth. “I’m sorry your parents don’t realize what a bloody brilliant daughter they have. My family would be ecstatic to call yo
u theirs.”

  I chuckle. “Really? But you’re amazingly successful.”

  A flustered smile takes over his face, and he rubs the back of his neck. “Aye, they’re proud of me for sure. I’m lucky in that respect. Hell, my sister, Lucy, loves it—gives her a lifetime of Fabio jokes to take the piss with. And no matter what I do, my parents support me one hundred percent. As long as I’m happy and financially on my own feet, they’re content.

  “But I was a bit of a hellraiser growing up. I never broke the law or anything like that. But I would stay out all night sometimes, drink too much with my mates, skip school, that sort of thing. They would have killed to have you, a budding and brilliant artist, as part of their brood instead of a hellion like me.”

  I let out a soft laugh, then lean my head on his shoulder once more.

  “If only we knew each other when we were teenagers. I’d have been spending my nights painting and sketching and sculpting with you. You would have kept me out of trouble,” he says through a chuckle. “I’d give anything to have a talent like yours.”

  “You have loads of talent, Calder.”

  “I don’t know about that. I’m good at what I’m good at, I suppose. Sometimes it feels like what I’m most talented at is flexing my abs, though.”

  I sit up straighter and turn to him. “You don’t have to put it so crudely. You’re incredibly gifted. Posing, connecting with the camera, connecting with the artists who are sketching you in class, connecting with the people who are looking at your photos or covers, coming up with all those creative concepts on your Instagram posts, all of that requires skill and technique. That doesn’t just happen.”

  He blinks, his face blank like he’s trying to take in what I’ve said.

  “You connect with people like I’ve never seen before. In-person and through your social media presence. It’s more than just the gorgeous color of your eyes or your flawless body or your smile. You make people truly feel something when they look at an image of you. No matter what the medium, you can get anyone to fall in love with you. That’s talent, Calder.”

  It takes a second before I realize what I’ve said. When I do, my eyes widen the slightest bit. But Calder just stares at me and swallows. I hope he didn’t read too much into what I’ve said. Because that would sound like I’m falling in love with him… and I’m absolutely not.

  My breathing quickens just at the thought. I quickly reach for my glass of water and take a gulp.

  “Thank you for the kind words,” he finally says. “That’s… exactly what I try to do on every job I take. To hear it summed up like that from you is… an honor indeed.”

  When I see the easy look on his face, that knot inside my chest loosens.

  “I still maintain that you’re the superior talent,” he says, tucking a loose chunk of my hair behind my ear. “You look at a lump of clay or a blank page, and from it springs something entirely new and original. That kind of skill blows my mind.”

  I shiver slightly at the way his fingertips skim that sensitive patch of skin behind my ear, right above my neck. “It’s a lot easier than you think. Here, I’ll show you.”

  I pop up, walk back inside his condo, and grab a couple of small notepads from his kitchen island and two pencils from his desk. I return to the balcony and sit back down next to Calder, but he’s preoccupied with his phone.

  “Sorry, just a sec,” he mutters while typing. A second later, he looks up and quirks a smile. “Getting a bollocking from my mum and sis all at once for forgetting to call lately.”

  “Oh. Do you want to call them now? I could go for a walk or something.” I loved how his face lit up the other night when he talked about his family, especially his little sister. The big-brother vibe makes him even more adorable, if that’s possible.

  The look he gives me is answer enough, but the soft growl in his voice gives me chills when he says, “I want you nowhere but right here, Professor. And I want to talk to you and only you today.”

  I wet my lips. “Sounds good to me.”

  He blinks, and that intense stare dissipates. “So, what were you going to show me?”

  “Here.” I hand him a notebook and a pencil. “I’ll teach you how to draw.”

  Calder frowns for a moment, then shakes his head. “You don’t understand. Even my stick figures are atrocious. I’ve never, ever been good at drawing or anything artistic.”

  I burst out laughing, then settle myself back down. “Okay, try this. Draw a circle.”

  Calder’s tongue sticks out of the corner of his mouth. His concentration face is rugged and adorable.

  “Now, outline the circle again a few times. Now try to shade the bottom of it a little bit.”

  Calder follows my instructions as I tell him to darken the bottom curve of the ball until the bottom third of the ball is grayed out.

  He squints at it for a long second at the image, then makes a “not bad” face.

  “Nicely done. Okay, try a bit of cross-hatching.”

  With my pencil, I demonstrate how to draw a series of small crossed lines in the shaded curve of the ball. He mimics my movements perfectly. It gives a shadowy depth to the ball that makes it look almost three dimensional.

  “Shade just underneath the ball. Just a little bit.”

  Calder nods and perfectly shades it. I tell him to draw a line behind the ball.

  “This will give even more depth. Just wait.”

  A minute later after he’s done shading, he wrings out his hand and leans back while fixating on the picture.

  “Bloody hell. That’s not bad at all.”

  “See?” I clap my hands. “Told you that you could be an artist.”

  Calder pivots those killer blue-green eyes to me, and suddenly I’m breathless. Those gemstone eyes of his are a mesmerizing mix of hunger and tenderness. Rosy cheeks flank his soft smile. “Thank you, Lily.”

  And then he grabs me by the back of the neck and kisses me until I can’t breathe. We go at it so hard that the blanket, both sketch pads, and pencils fall to the ground. When Calder finally releases me, I lean my forehead against his and gasp for air, my insides buzzing at the crazy sexy kiss he just planted on me.

  Both of our chests heave as we attempt to steady our breathing. Sitting up, I plant my palms against his chest and look him straight in the eye.

  “Show me your bedroom.”

  19

  Calder

  I leap to my feet so fast the chair topples over behind me, but who fucking cares? My fingers lace with hers, my eyes unable to move from the dark, lusty stare she’s got pinned on me. I walk backwards to the sliding patio door and push it open, but before I go in I pull her close and kiss her again.

  She moans, her lush mouth opening immediately as her tongue tangles with mine. That tongue is such a fucking tease, and I’m fairly sure she’s not even aware of it. I force myself to keep some shred of control and answer with a gentle lap. If I give in to exactly what I want, I’ll be tasting banana and chocolate from her mouth until she can’t breathe.

  But then Lily growls and bites down on my lower lip.

  “Fuck, woman, what are you doing to me?” I groan and lift her off her feet. She squeals but doesn’t break the kiss as I stumble through the door and down the hall to my bedroom.

  “Bite me again,” I beg when I’m standing in the middle of the room, in no rush to put her down.

  She nibbles and sucks my lower lip into her mouth before her teeth sink in, another exquisite tease that rockets pleasure through my body. Blood surges to my dick; I’ve been walking around hard for this woman for weeks now. The memory of her kneeling in front of me, sucking me off, has gotten me off plenty, but this is different. I know tonight there will be no stopping. Fake relationship or not, there is nothing fake about the way she’s kissing me.

  I pull back and set her on her feet. Lily’s eyes are still closed. She tilts her face, lips parted for another kiss, but I shush her and put a finger to her lips. She whines and opens her e
yes, the question clear as day: why did we stop?

  “I just want to hear you say yes.”

  “Yes.”

  I laugh softly and stroke her cheek. “No, love. I mean I want to know we’re on the same page here. Lily, I… well. I suppose I want to hear what you want.”

  She blinks several times and takes a deep breath. “Not this time. I want to hear what you want first.”

  “I want you on my bed right now. I want to take my time removing every piece of clothing you have on. I want to taste your skin and suck on your body until you come all over my face. I want your hands all over me, and, when we both can’t take it anymore, I want my cock inside you, Lily Maldonado. No interruptions, no second-guessing. But,” I cross my arms and step back, “I don’t want a damn thing you don’t.”

  Her eyes have gone round, cheeks a luminous pink. She wets her lips several times and then nods frantically. “That. I want that. All of that. What you said. Now. Yes.”

  My chuckle ends quickly when she steps forward and yanks my shirt off. Soft, wet kisses trail across my chest. She bites my nipples gently, and I hiss. “All of it,” she repeats softly.

  Okay then.

  We fall to the bed, unable to stop touching each other. Part of my brain wants to remind me that this is a “fake” relationship, but goddamn she makes me feel so much that I simply do not care. She is so sweet and hot all at once that my heart is thudding with anticipation.

  I discard her shirt so my hands have better access to her silky skin. Touching her is addictive. Kissing her is a drug.

  “What is it about you?” I slur as I unclasp her bra and trail kisses from her neck down. My tongue circles one nipple, then the other, and she arches her back with a moan.

  “Nothing. You’re the one making me crazy.” She tugs on my hair, her head tipped back in pure pleasure.