He heard her soft moan of acquiesce a second before his mouth cover hers, claiming it as conquered territory. Brushing his tongue against the seam of her lips, he wanted to celebrate when he felt them part without any prodding from him, allowing him to slip inside her mouth and explore the warm wet cavern. He’d kissed a lot of women in his life, offering them everything from innocent pecks to lusty necking and visiting all points in between, but he’d never experienced a kiss like he shared with her before. It was hot, sexy, and electric in its intensity. With just a touch of her tongue, she was able to make his cock harder than the last bitch that had gone down on him had. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he settled her tiny body against his, deepening the kiss to an almost inappropriate level (if the coughs the old guy behind him were anything to go by.)
Grudgingly lifting his head and releasing her willing lips, Cal shot a glare at the elderly couple. He was finally getting somewhere with the stubborn spitfire in his arms, but Ma and Pa Kettle’s disapproving frowns were ruining his moment. “Let’s go home, Princess. It’s time for us to do some talking.”
Chapter Nine: Heart-to-Heart Chats in the Company of Three of My Favorite Conversationalists: Jim, Jack, And Their Immigrant Friend, Jose Cuervo
Why the hell had she let him kiss her like that? That was the question Melody kept asking herself over and over again during the entire ten minute truck ride home. There were no answers forthcoming as she followed Cal out of his pickup and up the steps to her house. Goose happily trotted along beside them, happily clueless to any of the internal angst from which she was currently suffering. The only explanation she could even remotely think of was that Cal had managed to catch her off her game in a particularly weak moment. And that was the truth. Really, to be fair, how often did a chick feel like she was in imminent danger of being snuffed out by a crazy ex-fiancé?
The answer to that was probably more often than she cared to think about so she quickly decided to move on. Lifting a hand to touch her still tingling lips, she watched as Cal bent to unclip the leash from Goose’s collar, his movements unhurried as he tossed the red lead on the entryway table before turning to look at her.
Knowing that he was about to go on the offensive, she shook her head. “I’m not ready to talk yet,” she said quickly, curtailing him. Skirting around his huge body to dart into her mostly tidy kitchen, she knew she needed to think fast if she was gonna avoid a discussion she wasn’t ready to have. Spotting the sink, she smiled. They’d left their breakfast dishes in the sink, but beyond that, the counters and table were clean. Maybe she could hide in here and make scrubbing a couple of dishes into an afternoon project. But first, she needed a little liquid libation. Heading directly to the cabinet above the stove, she knew exactly what she wanted. Standing on her tiptoes, her fingers grazed the cool glass of one of the bottles she was looking for.
“What the hell are you doing, Princess?” she heard Cal’s deep voice ask from the doorway.
“If you wanna keep insisting on a chat so badly, I’m gonna need something to lubricate my conversational wheels,” she returned a little breathlessly as her hand tried to reach the clear bottle toward the back of the cabinet.
“So…”
“So, I need the help of my three favorite conversationalists,” she bit out, her hand blindly feeling for the familiar bottle.
Cal raised an eyebrow, his hands going to his hips. “Three conversationalists, huh?” he snorted.
“Yes,” she snapped. “Jim, Jack, and their immigrant friend, Jose Cuervo, speak my language and Jose gets downright chatty after the third shot,” she informed him, smiling as she pulled down the last bottle and lined them up on the counter.
“You realize that it’s only just after two in the afternoon, babe? Kinda early to hang out with those particular pals of yours.”
Melody turned to shoot her unwanted roommate a dirty look. “Really? The GI Joe is gonna judge me?”
“Not judging, Mel. Asking. There’s a difference,” he defended himself calmly.
Her lips pursed as she glared at him. What gave Mr. Nosy Pants the right to even question her choices? He was just someone she lived with. Platonically. Very, very platonically, she reminded herself as she slowly licked her lips as she stared at his cut chest while he unbuttoned his shirt and got more comfortable. “Don’t soldiers pound back those caffeine-loaded energy drinks with their morning coffee for an extra boost to the day? This,” she explained, lifting her bottle of Jack Daniels in front of her and shaking it slightly, “is the extra boost that I need to get through this little pow wow you’re demanding. Either accept it or leave me alone.”
“Point made,” Cal replied with a nod of acceptance as he moved toward the cupboard where she kept the glasses and pulled down two tumblers. “Grab your friends there and bring them into the living room,” he ordered firmly with a nod toward the three bottles as he held a glass in each hand. “We might as well be comfortable while we discuss things.”
“We might as well be comfortable while we discuss things,” Melody parroted under her breath as she collected the bottles and followed him into her cozy living room. She’d worked hard at making this room as comfortable and inviting as possible when she moved back into her grandmother’s house. The walls were painted a soothing heather gray and her furniture was of the overstuffed, super-comfy variety. It was old, but it was still in good condition and fully paid for…two of her favorite qualities in furniture. She’d replaced the shag carpet that had come with the house just days after she moved into the home. Now, as she dropped to sit cross legged between her couch and oak coffee table, her ass was cushioned by a thick piled crème carpet that was super soft to the touch. Holding out one of her hands, Melody looked to where Cal stood on the other side of the table. “Gimmee,” she directed, holding up her hand to receive a glass.
“You sure I can’t talk you into starting off with a beer, babe? I promise, you’ll get the same buzz,” he bargained, hanging onto the tumblers in his hand for another few seconds.
“Yeah, eventually, I’d reach the pleasantly buzzed state of mind, but I’ll get there a whole lot quicker with liquor. Thanks for your concern, though. It’s touching. Truly,” she replied, reaching for the glass.
“Jesus, she’s already making rhymes and she hasn’t had a single hit from the bottle yet,” Cal muttered, tilting his head to look at the ceiling. “It’s gonna be a long fuckin’ afternoon.”
“Whiners are wieners, Callum,” Melody warned as she twisted off the cap of the Jack Daniels and poured a liberal shot into her glass. “What’s your poison, Soldier Boy?”
“I think I’ll stick to water,” he replied, holding up the bottle of water he’d snagged from the kitchen.
“No booze, no schmooze, my pal Cal,” she warned, taking her first shot and shuddering as the alcohol trail blazed a path down her esophagus, making her eyes water. “Shit!” she hissed, slapping an open palm against the uncluttered coffee table. “I forgot all about the burn.” Finally looking up at him as the burn in her throat receded to a dull throb, she saw him shake his head at her.
“You sure this is a good idea, babe? When’s the last time you got plastered?” Cal asked dryly as he slowly settled his body on the floor across the table from her and twisted the cap off his bottle of water.
“The first night I stayed in this house after I left the asshole,” Melody answered truthfully, unapologetic about that night. She’d needed mindless oblivion, and the Triple J’s hadn’t let her down, she thought with a fond look at the bottles of Jim, Jack and Jose Cuervo. “I got positively trashed. It was the night I painted this room,” she shared, lifting the hand holding her whiskey glass to gesture at the walls. “I did a fantastic job for being shit-faced, didn’t I?”
Cal looked around the room and begrudgingly nodded. “Not bad. Still don’t think you should have been drinking alone, but at least you weren’t behind a wheel,” he mumbled.
“Of course not,” Melody snapped, pausing in t
he act of pouring another shot into her glass. “I’m not an idiot.” Reaching for the other glass, she stared at him. “So…your poison?”
Sighing, Cal turned his gaze toward the bottles. “Jim, I guess. But I’m not getting drunk with you. One of us has to remain sober.”
“Why?”
“You and I get drunk together and there’s gonna be fireworks, babe. You can bet your sexy ass on that,” he offered, taking a sip of the amber whiskey. “And when I finally get you underneath me in bed, I’m gonna want both of us to be sober as a judge.”
“You aren’t getting me in bed with you. I won’t be under, over, beneath or above you, you Neanderthal. Not while I’m sloshed OR sober” Melody informed him with a haughty smirk. “So, that’s a total and complete non-issue.”
“It’s gonna be a pleasure to prove you wrong on that score, baby, but right now, we’ve got more important things to talk about than what my tongue and cock are gonna do to your sweet little pussy when you finally stop throwing up walls between us.
Melody’s jaw dropped. “You have GOT to stop saying crap like that, Cal! It’s never gonna happen for you,” she growled when she was able to form coherent words again before pounding back another shot as she kept her angry stare on him.
“We’ll see,” he declared with a shrug. “Now, let’s stop beating around the bush and talk about what that ex-prick of yours said to you earlier. I know that whatever he said was enough to drive you to drink so that already insures some form of payback is in order,” he said, his voice hard and low as he kept staring at her.
“Cal, please,” Melody groaned, dropping her glass back to the table between them. “Can’t we build up to the hard questions? I’ve got an idea,” she offered excitedly, her eyes unnaturally bright, “Let’s play twenty questions. You get ten; I get ten. That way, maybe we can get to know each other a bit better.”
“And you get to indulge in a little more liquid courage before you get the questions you wanna answer the least,” Cal surmised, his blue eyes amused as he raised one eyebrow at her.
.Melody grinned mischievously. “We-eellllll, that’s just a happy coincidence, isn’t it?”
“Sure, it is,” Cal chuckled, clearly entertained by her stall tactics. It’s a good thing that I subscribe to the ideology that booze makes a body more truthful and open to new ideas then, huh?”
“Huh?” she grunted, cocking her head slightly as her eyebrows furrowed. “What in the name of Dumbledore’s robe are you talking about?” she asked, inwardly grimacing as she realized she was showing her inner nerd girl to him. What could she say? She worshipped at the JK Rowling altar. She truly believed Rowling’s character, Harry Potter, was one of the greatest literary heroes of all time. The little boy ranked right up there with Rhett Butler in her book.
Cal laughed. “You’re never boring, are you, Sweet Cheeks. I’m talking about alcohol, Princess. It’s like truth serum to most people. That liquid courage of yours is well known for limbering up the most reluctant of tongues. Although, you shouldn’t worry about me, babe. My tongue can be very agile for you if you need it to be. No booze required.”
Melody shivered at the heavy sexual innuendo in his voice. “Cute. Real cute, Cal.”
“Well, I didn’t want you to worry ‘bout my tongue. That would be rude. At any rate, when liquors on the menu, secrets generally just fall out on the table,” he pointed out, eyeing the half full glass of Jack Daniels she’d just poured for each of them. “It’s not gonna take a little thing like you long to get real loose with her confidences. So, yeah, go ahead. Let’s do this twenty question thing. An answer for an answer.”
“How many passes do we get?” she asked quickly, wanting to clearly define the rules up front.
“None,” Cal denied flatly, his alert gaze pinning her to where she sat when she would have bolted for cover. When she opened her mouth to argue, he interrupted, “It’s not truth or dare, Melody. There aren’t any passes. You answer the question you get asked. Fully and truthfully. No exceptions. We’ll go easiest to hardest.”
Melody knew when to admit that she was beat. “Fine. Let me go change into something real quick that’s more comfortable than these jeans,” she said with a look down at the denim molded to her legs.
“You takin’ requests, babe? ‘Cause if you are, I’d like to see you in something sheer and see-through,” he suggested with a devilish grin.
“Keep dreamin’, Sergeant Slime,” she muttered as she climbed to her feet, slightly dizzy from the alcohol she’d already consumed.
“Oh, I do dream about you, Melody. Most of them are of the triple X variety, but they count,” he returned, reaching out his hand to steady her. “You need some help in…I mean, to the bedroom?”
“I got it,” she replied dryly, shaking her head. The guy just never stopped with the sexual innuendo. She’d be damned if she’d admit how much she enjoyed their banter, though. He’d go from amusing to insufferable if he ever figured it out. “You and your libido just take a break out here. I’ll be right back.”
Chapter Ten: Down and Dirty is the Only Way to Roll
Cal grinned as Melody returned ten minutes later in a pair of yoga pants that made his mouth water and his dick hard and an oversized tee shirt that hung off her small frame. He assumed it was her brothers because if he even thought about it being her ex’s, he’d tear it off her body without a single thought to the repercussions. Spotting the unopened bag of jellybeans she held clutched in her left hand, he smirked. “You got bags of those things hidden in every room of the house, babe?” He knew she’d been inhaling those little candies like TicTacs and she seemed to indulge in them more when she got stressed.
Melody shrugged her slim shoulders. “I like my jellybellies. Sue me. I don’t comment on your coffee consumption rate,” she replied with a frown, her cheeks turning a pretty shade of cherry red.
Cal chuckled because it was true. He did have a small addiction to caffeine. And she hadn’t said a word about it. In fact, she went out of her way to keep a pot of coffee brewing when they were home. He’d noted that she rarely had more than a cup or two in the mornings so he knew she was doing it for him. It felt good, having her looking after him. Nobody had ever bothered to even try to learn, much less support his habits. Melody, however, took care of him like it was second nature. He just wondered if she realized it.
“Okay,” she said, dropping back to her spot on the floor in front of her couch. “Are you ready to get down and dirty?” she asked, dropping her candy to the table and rubbing her hands together.
Leaning across the coffee table toward her, Cal gave her a slow, sensual smile. “Sweetheart, something to know about me. Down and dirty is the only way I know how to roll.” The words rolled easily off his tongue and had the desired effect. He watched with a bone deep satisfaction as Melody’s teeth sank into her plump lower lip and she shifted under his heavy lidded gaze. Her blush deepened as her breathing sped up. That’s how he finally knew, without a doubt, she was feeling this white hot attraction every bit as deeply as he was.
“I was talking about our game of twenty questions!” She blurted, shaking her head in agitation. “Are you gonna make everything I say into a sexual suggestion?” she asked testily, flashing him a dark look.
“I’m sure as fuck gonna try,” he stated truthfully, his smile unapologetic as he leaned his back against the seat of one of the club chairs facing the table and pulled his half-filled glass of whiskey toward him.
“Of course you are,” Melody mumbled, taking a sip from her own glass before lifting her eyes to him. “You wanna go first or should…”
“Ladies go first with me, darlin’. Always. In bed and out,” he said firmly, his sea blue eyes gleaming mirthfully at her. God, he loved riling her up. Those coffee-colored eyes of hers got darker every single time he poked fun or made a sexual remark. Pretty soon, he figured they’d be black with desire. Now, he wasn’t sure that desire would be to kiss him or kill him. All he was certain of
is that he couldn’t wait to find out.
“Fine, jackass,” she retorted. “I’ll be happy to go first. And like you said, I’ll start easy. You said you were an orphan and that you’d never met your mother. So, who named you? Callum is kinda an unusual name and Valentine…. Well, how do they decide on a last name for orphans? Do you know?” she asked before taking a sip of her whiskey.
“Hey, you only get to drink after you answer a question,” Cal chided, frowning at the glass in her hand. He wanted her uninhibited by the booze, not unconscious. At the rate his favorite girl was gulping, she’d be trashed in a half hour. And then he might never get his answers.
Melody rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she remarked, dropping her glass to the table and pushing it slightly away. “I’ll behave and even skip my next scheduled sip in the interest of fairness if you’ll answer.”
“I’ll answer. When I was about three days old according to my medical records, I was left in an infant carrier on a park bench across from a Catholic church in Philly. One of the nuns heard me crying from the rectory office and came to investigate. She’s the one that named me. She was Irish. My full name is actually Callum Rowen Valentine. She chose Valentine because she found me on Valentine’s Day.”
“Wow,” Melody whispered. “You were named by a nun. How many nuns can say they’ve done that, I wonder?”
“Probably more than you’d want to know about, Melody,” Cal asserted gently. “The world can be a pretty ugly place. I just don’t think you’ve had to see that part of it, babe. I pray you never do.”
“Your mother left you on a bench in the cold February air? What the hell kind of parent does something like that?” Melody asked, shaking her head in horror as the facts around Cal’s birth began to sink in. “That bitch couldn’t have at least taken you inside? She left you out there to freeze?” she asked, growing angrier. Lips tightening, Melody reached for her whiskey.
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