She smiled and rested her hands on her thighs, allowing him this.
“Thank you,” he said, punctuating it with a kiss on her collarbone, then another. When he reached her shoulder, he scraped his teeth across the skin, tasting as he went. She was faintly salty, with a trace of soap...and something extra—something that was hers alone.
He laid her down on the cover and pulled the track pants from her legs, taking her underwear with them. The sight of her naked was one thing he had retained complete memory of from their twenty-four-hour marriage and the times they’d come together before that, and yet...she still amazed him.
“Callie.”
Her gaze softened. “Nobody’s ever looked at me the way you do.”
He prowled over her on all fours, leaning in to whisper, “Then they were blind,” before taking her earlobe into his mouth, glorying in her gasp.
He kissed a path down her body, until he reached the juncture of her thighs. She deserved to be worshipped, and he set about doing just that. Every whimper that escaped her lips urged him on, every time she writhed under his mouth made him want to push her further. When she reached her peak and shouted his name to the ceiling, a surge of satisfaction filled his chest.
He pulled himself up the bed, holding her as she floated back to earth, feeling more content than he could remember. Finally, her eyes fluttered open and he wanted to do it all again, to make her call his name, so he raised himself on one elbow and trailed a hand over her stomach.
She gently pushed him back against the pillows.
“It’s my turn to explore,” she said, her eyes sparking.
His pulse spiked. He reached up and gripped the headboard and then nodded. “That’s fair.”
Her fingers lightly caressed his chest, sending goose bumps racing across his skin, and, as she moved down lower, his abdomen clenched tight at her touch. Then her tongue began to follow the same path, her teeth nipping every few heartbeats. He was on fire. The things she did to him with mere touches... It was craziness.
She moved farther south, and her mouth found him hard and ready. Her tongue licked up one side then down the other, and he gripped the headboard so forcefully he was surprised it didn’t break. Her hand joined her mouth, and he groaned out her name, trying to restrain his body from thrashing against the sheets, knowing he couldn’t stay completely still, but not wanting to break the contact with her mouth.
She moved higher, to his stomach again, then higher still, until her pelvis was over his groin, pressing down with luscious pressure. She kissed him, and he released his grip of the headboard to wrap his arms around her, finally touching her again.
Holding Callie in his arms was everything. The friction of skin on skin as they moved was bliss, almost more than he could stand. Not breaking their kiss, he rolled them over until they were side by side, and hooked a knee over her legs, wanting to touch her everywhere at once. His heart thundered in his chest, his mind swam. This was more than making love, but what did that make it?
Her hands began a journey down his sides, over his thighs and back to grip his length. He rested his hands on hers to hold them still. He needed to find protection before things went too far and he lost capacity for thought altogether—a place he was already dangerously close to. The only problem was, where would he find any? He didn’t normally like people in his personal space, so even when he was seeing a woman, he rarely brought her here. He squeezed his eyes shut as he forced his brain to reengage. Bathroom. There was a box in his private bathroom.
“Hold that thought,” he said and came close to breaking the land-speed record on the way to retrieve a condom.
When he made it back to Callie’s side, she put her hand out. “May I?”
He handed it over without hesitation. He’d be crazy to say no anytime she wanted to lay a hand on him. As she opened the foil packet, and then held him in one palm and started rolling the condom down his length, he let out a low groan. The torment of her touch, of it never being enough, was going to kill him.
He eased down to lie along the length of her, pulling her close, needing to feel as much of her body against his skin as he could. As he kissed her, she threaded her arms around him, lightly trailing her fingernails down his back and digging into his buttocks in a delicious nip of sensation.
The kiss became more passionate, his body’s demands more insistent, and when Callie began to writhe against him, clearly needing more, he rolled her beneath him and settled himself in the cradle of her thighs. Her hands still gripped his rear end, encouraging him, so he reached down and positioned himself, and then found her silver-blue gaze. How could he have forgotten how exquisite it was to have this woman in his bed? Never again—he’d remember every second of tonight for the rest of his life.
With deliberate slowness, he stroked into her and then held still, savoring the sensation of Callie holding him inside her. But too soon, the insistent beat in his body demanded he move, so he lifted his hips before plunging back again.
She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, changing the angle, and he clenched his jaw as he fought for self-control. He wouldn’t let this be over too soon. They’d only agreed on one night, and, though he would definitely vote for many more, he was acutely aware this might be the last time he made love to her. He wanted to make the most of it.
Once his—admittedly tenuous—grip on control was back in place, he began to move again, and she moved with him, finding their rhythm, moving together in a ragged harmony. His body urged him to rush headlong to the goal, his mind wanted him to slow down and take in each detail. The result was somewhere in the middle.
His eyelids grew heavy, but he fought to keep them open, gaze fixed on her face. In that moment, she was the most beautiful woman in the world, her skin glowing, her eyes hungry. For him. It made him burn for her even more.
Each stroke seemed to spark every nerve ending in his body, made his pulse race faster.
She was close, he could see it in the tension in her muscles, in the way her breath was coming in short pants. He reached between them, to the place they were joined, and stroked, and she froze, clenching around him and calling his name, until he couldn’t hold on any longer and followed her over the edge. Everything inside him, around him, dissolved into bright light and all there was in the universe was Callie. Callie.
Callie.
* * *
Callie woke curled around Adam. He lay on his back, one arm above his head on the pillow, the other holding her firmly against him. His breathing was even in sleep, and she carefully inched up on an elbow to look at him in the early-morning light streaming through the window.
His dark hair with its hints of deep mahogany was striking against the white pillow. Her gaze traveled languidly from there, past defined cheekbones to a jaw covered in day-old stubble. He was a picture of masculine beauty, and something moved in her chest as she watched him.
“Regrets already?” he asked without opening his eyes. His voice was gravelly with sleep, and it seemed to reverberate through to her soul.
She eased back down and snuggled into his warmth. “Just looking at what I’ve got myself into.”
His chest rumbled under her ear with a lazy chuckle. “And do I pass muster first thing in the morning?”
“You’ll do,” she said, her voice teasing.
His eyes blinked open and focused on her. “You’ll more than do. Early morning in my bed suits you.”
The comment triggered a contented warmth, which spread through her body. In fact, this could easily become her favorite place to wake up, but she didn’t want to scare him, so she didn’t reply. Instead, she stretched against his luxurious sheets and glanced around the room.
She hadn’t paid much attention to the master suite when they’d come in last night, but it deserved a good look. It was huge, done in the same white-
on-white color scheme as the rest of the house, with indigo-blue blinds and comforter. A deep navy blue sofa sat beside a bank of white doors to closets that must hold all his clothes and personal items.
“You like plain decorating,” she said.
“I like simplicity.”
She turned back to face him. “Is this another facet of what you were talking about last night?”
“About only being able to cook tacos and eggs?” The corners of his mouth twitched.
He was being deliberately obtuse, and it delighted her to see him so relaxed. She lightly punched him on the arm and said, “Strangely enough, I wasn’t thinking of cooking. I meant about you keeping your wild side under control. You deliberately keep things simple and plain. Not a lot of color, no flowers in the house, nothing to rouse the passions.”
“There’s you,” he said and reached for her.
She went into his arms because it was still a novelty to have him unreservedly want her there, and because he was Adam. It was possible she would never deny him anything.
“In all seriousness,” he said once he’d tucked her against him again, her face comfortably nestled under his chin, “we said we’d talk about this—about us—this morning. How are you feeling about moving our relationship in this direction?”
“You mean us starting a fling?” It had been his word, and she wanted it on the table, no confusion.
He nodded. “What are you thinking today about us having a fling while you’re staying here? I’ve probably got another quarter around here somewhere if these thoughts cost as much as last time.”
“These thoughts are free.” She rubbed a hand over his chest as she spoke. “Having to keep my guard up around you, quite frankly, was exhausting. If we continue, besides the obvious advantage of more nights like last night, I’ll have a place I can be relaxed.”
“I want you to be able to relax while you’re staying in this house,” he said, his voice gentle. “That would mean a lot to me.”
The unexpected moment of tenderness moved her, and she reached up to place a kiss on his lips that was full of appreciation, though it quickly escalated into something much more. More beguiling. More intimate. More spine-tingling. Just more.
Long moments later, she broke away and lay back against the pillows to catch her breath. His darkened gaze followed her, his chest rising and falling in a similar heavy rhythm to hers.
“What about you?” She laid a hand along the side of his face, the day-old stubble exquisitely abrasive against the flesh of her palm. “How are you feeling about us?”
“Now that I have you back in my bed, I’m reluctant to let you leave again, so I’m all for this plan. In fact,” he said, trailing fingers down her side, “I think we should explore the finer points of the plan this morning.”
“I’m open to exploring that option,” she said, and kissed him again. Whether or not she survived this fling with her heart intact, she had a feeling she was in for the time of her life.
* * *
It had been two days since she and Adam had agreed to have a fling, and they’d spent a good portion of that time in his bed. Even when they’d been doing something else, her mind had been filled with memories of making love with him, or plans to maneuver him back to his bedroom.
Today, though, they were having their official wedding announcement photos taken. They’d booked their own photographer to come out to Liam and Jenna’s flower farm, and Callie had asked her friend Anna, the journalist, to come along, as well. They’d already brokered a sale of the photos to another magazine with the money raised going to charity, but Anna was covering the rehearsal dinner next week and wanted to attend the shoot as part of the lead-in to the piece she’d write.
There had been a stipulation—which she’d expected—that at least one photo would include the princess, Meg, and the princess-to-be, baby Bonnie. Callie and Jenna had decided to also include Liam, Dylan, Faith and Adam’s parents in the photos.
Callie’s own family had been invited, as well, but had declined. Her parents and Summer were private people, and Callie had understood their decision and supported it.
So all eight adults and two babies of the Hawke clan found themselves standing among rows of flowers in their Sunday best, laughing and ribbing each other. The photographer called out various instructions, many of which were ignored as the boisterous conversation flowed.
Callie’s professional side was watching the scene even as she posed. Some photographers would have insisted that the subjects fall into line, but this one was savvy enough to want to capture the energy and love in the group. And there was a lot of love.
Suddenly, everything in Callie’s chest pulled tight and she felt very alone. The occasion might have been about her wedding, but she was the only one in the group of ten people who didn’t belong. The others all loved each other; even Faith, the newest addition, had clearly been welcome with open arms, and was now integral—Liam joked with her, Bonnie went smiling into her arms and Dylan looked at her as if his world began and ended in her eyes.
Callie knew she had no right to feel bad about it—she had her own family at home, including a sister who was her best friend. But something deep inside yearned to be part of Adam’s family, too. To have that casual ease of familiarity with other people who loved him.
Her body went rigid. Other people who loved him? No, she did not love Adam. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t let that happen, and she couldn’t afford to break that promise. Stuffing any remnants of the thought into a far recess of her brain, she forced herself to smile.
“You okay?” Adam whispered near her ear.
“Couldn’t be better,” she said brightly.
He moved closer, his lips resting on her ear, voice low. “You probably haven’t had enough sleep lately. Completely my fault. As soon as this is over, you’ll go straight to my bed.”
A surprised laugh burst out before she could stop it. The last thing she’d expected him to joke about when they were surrounded by his family was making love. His eyes danced as he leaned and brushed a chaste kiss over her mouth.
As they pulled away, she was aware that the group was quiet. She glanced around and found them all watching her, their expressions ranging from Adam’s mother’s glee, to misty-eyed happy sighs from Jenna, to a knowing grin from Dylan.
A blush crept up her throat to her cheeks and, despite knowing it would only encourage them, she hid her face in Adam’s jacket while she composed herself. The whole family cheered.
“Okay,” the photographer called out. “I think I have enough. How about we move over to the roses? Just the bride-and-groom-to-be for these.”
The group dispersed and, as they made their way, her friend Anna caught up to her.
“Thanks for inviting me out,” she said, glancing at Adam, who was deep in conversation with the photographer a few steps away.
Callie smiled. “Thank you for coming out. The more coverage the photo shoot gets, the better for the trust.”
“You know,” Anna said, “when you first told me about this, I wondered if it was an elaborate PR stunt.”
Callie’s heart skipped a beat. “You did?”
“Well, you have to admit it was a big coincidence that you landed the trust’s account and suddenly you’re marrying the CEO of Hawke’s Blooms.”
“We were already married,” Callie pointed out carefully.
“Which would be enough to disprove it if we were talking about regular people, but you and Summer are very good at your jobs—this isn’t too complicated for you to pull off. Somehow. With smoke and mirrors. And maybe a time machine.”
Callie’s lungs constricted until she could barely draw in enough breath. Had Anna guessed the truth? Was she warning Callie that she was about to expose her? Or maybe she was only fishing.
“What do
you think now?” She worked to keep her voice even.
“The day I did that interview with you, you and Adam were awkward together at times, but I could see that was probably because you were nervous about the story, and it was your first time being photographed together. But today...” Her voice trailed off.
“Today,” Callie prompted.
Anna smiled. “I think that no one who saw you and Adam Hawke together could doubt you’re in love.”
Relief at fooling a journalist warred with unease about her friend’s supposed insight. They were playing roles, sure, but Anna had picked up their awkwardness at the first interview, so she was perceptive. And Anna thought they were in love.
Was Callie coming to feel too much for Adam Hawke? Or was she becoming a better actress?
Adam fell into step beside her and slid an arm around her waist. Without thinking, she leaned in to him, wanting his strength and support as she grappled with the questions her friend had raised.
“See,” Anna said, her voice a little smug. “You can’t fake that.”
Adam looked down at her. “Can’t fake what?” His voice was casual but she knew the wariness behind it.
Callie found a short laugh, as if the idea was crazy. “Anna wondered when we first announced our relationship if it was a PR stunt.”
She knew from experience that he was good at locking down his emotions so it was no surprise when he merely raised an eyebrow. “It’s a fairly complicated and personal plan to be a stunt.”
Anna shrugged. “But not beyond Callie’s abilities. However I was just telling Callie that no one who sees you two together—how sweet and attentive you are to each other when no one else is looking—could doubt how much you love each other.”
Adam pulled her tighter against his side. “I have no reason to hide what she means to me. My life changed the moment I met her.”
Callie suppressed a grin. She had to hand it to him—he’d given the journalist what she wanted, and what they needed her to believe, but he hadn’t lied.
His 24-Hour Wife (The Hawke Brothers 2) Page 9