Inseverable: A Carolina Beach Novel

by Cecy Robson

  “I have to,” I say, my tone splintering. “Look, I’ve always had my heart set on volunteering all over the world—just like my parents did. But I’ll admit, now that I’ve met Callahan, it’s like my life is imploding around me. I don’t want to go—not like I did before. But I can’t back out. There’re people with worse problems than me who need help.”

  “So you’ll go?” she asks. “No matter who you leave behind?” She shakes her head again when I don’t answer. “Trin, if that’s the case, I don’t know what to tell you.”

  I rest my cheek against her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry for what? Leaving us? Or leaving him?”

  I’m seconds from losing it, and barely manage to answer. “All of it.”

  She sniffs, squaring her shoulders as she tries to rein in her emotions. “Have you even told him yet?”

  My hands slip off her shoulders. “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Becks, I’m the only one he has to talk to. And he’s been through a lot. If I tell him I’m leaving, he’ll close up. I have to be there for him for as long as I can.”

  “Until you up and leave him,” she says, slowly.

  I don’t answer, not right away. Mostly because she’s right. “Do you think I shouldn’t be with him?” I finally ask.

  “I don’t see how either of you will be able to stay apart. Not given what he means to you, and what you seem to mean to him.” She embraces me, holding me tight. “Trin, I don’t know what’s going to happen. All I can tell you is I don’t think it’s going to end well. For either of you.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Callahan

  Jed flips over the last chair so the afternoon crew can clean the floors before they open the bar. The only chair still perched on its legs is the one Trin’s sitting on. I asked her to wait for me after Jed announced closing and she started to pile out with her friends. She seemed hesitant to stay, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if she would. But she did. And I’m glad.

  Except for Lindsey, all the waitresses hurry out the second they’re done counting their tips. Jed glances from Lindsey and Trin before meeting me with a smirk. I’m not sure what he’s thinking until I see Lindsey walk toward the door. She stops beside Trin and turns around, smiling in a way I know means trouble.

  “Hey, Callahan. If you ever want a real woman, instead of a little girl, be sure to give me a call.”

  I train my glare on her, pissed she’s insulted Trin. “What the hell―”

  “He has a real woman,” Trin says sweetly, as if I didn’t say anything. She rises, her smile fading when she pegs Lindsey with a hard stare. “Watch your mouth around me, and your hands around him. He doesn’t belong to you.”

  I’m already to them, but something in the way Trin’s watching Lindsey flat out shows that my girl’s not playing around. Lindsey sees it too, and backs away. Trin keeps her attention on her and all the way out the door until she speeds away in her rusty pick-up.

  Trin’s riled. And even though she has nothing to worry about, I have to admit her claim over me gets me hot.

  Jed moves forward, chuckling and starts to lock the front door. “I’ll take care of it if you want to head out,” I tell him.

  He turns to Trin and smiles knowingly. “All right, fine by me.”

  I lock the door behind him and switch off most of the lights, except for the ones over the dance floor. Trin, so confident seconds before, seems skittish.

  “Do you have a lot more to do?” she asks.

  “Just one more thing,” I say.

  I move to the jukebox, scanning through the songs until I find one that works and fish out a dollar. The first chords from Jason Aldean’s remake of Heaven ring out as I make my way back to my girl.

  “Will you dance with me?” I ask her.

  Ah, and there’s that smile I’ve missed all night. “I’d love to,” she whispers.

  My arms immediately circle her waist. I bend forward so she can slip her hands around my neck. Listening to the lyrics, and how the acoustic guitar builds the melody, I want so bad to kiss her. But as our bodies settle in closer, I know once I start, I won’t want to stop.

  We sway back and forth. I’m not much of dancer, but the beat and everything about Trinity seems right. We fall into a perfect, natural rhythm. And while her sweet perfume, and how soft she feels, only make me want to pull her closer, I keep my hold gentle. At least at first.

  Halfway through song, I draw her closer and curl around her, using the whiskers on my chin to tickle her bare shoulder.

  I mean to tease her, and make her laugh. Instead she sighs softly, her small frame melding with mine. As close as she is, I can feel her heartbeat, and how fast it’s racing.

  “Do I scare you?” I ask.

  She takes her time answering. “Yes.”

  “I’d never do anything to hurt you,” I promise against her skin.

  She moans barely above a breath, moving her lips close to my ear. “It’s not what I’m afraid of.”

  “Then what is it?” My hand travels up beneath her hair, to trace slow circles between her shoulder blades.

  She shudders, her cheeks flushing with heat. “That,” she says. “You make me feel so good. I want to be able to do the same to you.”

  I take in her delicate features, how they’re intermixed with that same desperation and longing she met me with last night. “I don’t want you to be afraid of anything. Not with me.”

  She glances down briefly. “Can I ask you something?” I nod. “Will you let me know if I do something wrong?”

  “What?” I can’t believe what she’s asking. I can practically taste how bad I want her.

  Her lashes flutter and she draws in a breath of air when my short nails settle over the base of her skull. “I want you to tell me if I do something you don’t like,” she repeats, her voice quivering.

  “Trinity, there’s nothing you’ll do that I won’t like.” I choke the words out, because it’s taking all I have not to strip her out of hers clothes when the song ends and our bodies still against each other. “Come home with me, and spend the night, and I’ll show you how good we can be . . .”

  I’m trying to be a gentleman. I am. I start off by holding Trin’s hand as we walk along the sand. But the closer we near my place, the more the space between us dissolves.

  We both carry our shoes in our free hands, but my other hand―the one now snaked around her waist―is tightening against her hip. We’re not speaking, allowing our bodies to feel that warmth and closeness surging from our close contact.

  Trin leans heavily into me, her breast rubbing against my chest with each step.

  The gesture might be purposeful. It might be accidental. Right now I don’t care. I only know my yearning for her grows.

  When she tilts her head, and I see my heat reflecting in her eyes, that kiss I’ve been holding back starts faster than either of us are prepared for. Our mouths open wide to receive each other, and steal a taste of what’s to come. I bend her back with how hard I press against her. I’m being too aggressive. I know I am. Except when I try to pull back, her small nails dig into my shoulders, keeping me in place.

  My lips leave hers to drag along her neck. She moans when my teeth find the base of her throat, similar to the way she did that morning I pushed my fingers inside of her. The memory of that day gets me harder. Damn. We’re not even naked yet―or alone―and I’m ready to thrust inside of her.

  It takes some effort, but gradually I ease away from her. Her breath, like mine, leave in a rush, making it hard for her to speak. “We have to get inside,” she says.

  “Oh, hell yeah.”

  I bend to retrieve my shoes. The moment she has hers, I snag her hand and we take off in a run. She laughs as she lifts her skirt and we sprint along the beach. Like a fool, I can’t stop that grin the sound of her laughter invokes.

  We reach my house and hop onto the deck, our laughter ceasing as we slip inside.

  I toss
my shoes aside. As I turn to lock the door and close the shades, I hear her sandals fall softly behind me. I walk away from the door to find her washing her hands in the kitchen. She seems nervous, maybe even a little frightened, so I wait by the door and give her some space.

  It’s only when she dries her hands that she glances up. With a shy smile, she leaves the kitchen, stopping in the center of the room to face me. As I watch, she crosses her arms in front of her and lifts the edge of her top.

  Each pull of the tight fabric exposes more of her tan skin. I’m almost disappointed when she reveals the strapless black bra covering her breasts. Almost. No matter what, it’s coming off next.

  Her long hair falls along her back and shoulders in waves of silky black ink as she finishes removing her top. She meets me with another shy smile, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Should we turn off the lights?” she asks.

  I shake my head, drilling my stare onto hers. “No. I want to see all of you.”

  Her smile vanishes as a spark of desire lights her face. “I want to see you, too,” she tells me, her voice soft and husky. She motions with a subtle lift of her chin. “Your turn,” she says.

  I prowl forward, stripping out of my shirt. It hits the floor as I reach her. Only inches remain between us. I can feel her heat, and hope she can feel mine.

  “Hey, beautiful,” I tell her.

  Her gentle smile squeezes my heart. “Hey.”

  My fingertips trail up her arms while I take in every inch of her gorgeous features: those soft pink lips, the thick lashes veiling her brown eyes, and the damn cute freckles lightly sprinkling her nose and cheeks.

  I lift a hand, taking my time to pass it along her cheek and down the base of her throat until it skims above her breasts. My focus never leaves her face, but hers stays trained on my motions. I know she’s nervous and take care to be gentle.

  “I want to touch you so bad,” I tell her. “Will you let me?”

  It’s then her focus leaves my hands. “I want you to do more than touch me,” she murmurs.

  Her fingers hook the waistband of her skirt. My hands clasp hers, keeping them in place. “Let me,” I say, leaning in close to speak in her ear. “I’ve been waiting to do this all night.”

  Her body trembles when I claim the curve of her neck with my mouth, drifting kisses down to the swells of her breasts. I reach behind to unclasp her bra, but not before I tug on each nipple through the fabric with my teeth.

  The bra falls away and her head snaps back when I seize the first breast to suck. My tongue circles the stiff center while my hands get busy ridding her of her skirt. Trin stumbles backward with a grunt. My arms snatch her waist, keeping her from falling and keeping her close.

  I edge her over to the back of the couch, my movements neither graceful nor slow―they’re staggered, clumsy―so out of my mind with how good she feels in my arms and how she tastes on my tongue. My knees smack against the floor as my mouth continues downward until my hot breath releases against the crotch of her panties.

  “Shit,” Trin gasps, her hands shooting out.

  My teeth snag the thin lace. Just as I promised, this is the way her panties are coming off. My fingers pinch the sides, helping me easily tug the tiny piece of fabric until it falls at her feet.

  She watches me, barely breathing. She knows what’s coming. And as I catch a glimpse of that sweet spot between her legs, I can’t wait to start.

  In one motion, I hook my elbows beneath her knees and stand, stealing a moment to kiss her as I settle her on the ledge of the couch. My teeth nibble her bottom lip as I slowly withdraw. “Keep your legs open for me, okay?” I rasp.

  She manages a nod, but that’s all she seems capable of doing. I reach for her fingers and pull two in my mouth. Her eyes round when I slide them out and flick them with tongue.

  I kneel in front of her, taking her wet fingers and placing them where I need them.

  “You want me to touch myself?” she stammers.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and pause, my mind flooding with images of her reaching between her legs to please herself. “Only if you want to,” I rumble.

  Instead of waiting for a response, I slide her fingers further down and use them to spread her folds. Now that I see her―see her completely―no way in hell can I stay in control.

  Trin screams in total bliss when I shove forward and devour her. My motions should be slow, gentle. They’re not. My tongue and mouth are frantic, licking, sucking, tasting.

  She writhes against me, grunting and swearing. If not for my arms fastened to her thighs, she’d fall off the couch with how hard she comes.

  When her quivering ceases, I rise slowly, licking my lips. Her face is flushed a deep red. For a moment she simply stares at me, her expression split between shock and hunger. I can barely control my breathing, ready for more of her. But I need to know she still wants this―wants me.

  Before I can ask her, her fingers clasp the waistband of my jeans and she hauls me to her for a long, grateful kiss.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Trinity

  My lips seek out Callahan’s, tasting every bit of me all over him. Something feral overtakes me, compelling me to consume what he took and more. He doesn’t fight me, digging his fingers into my hair and allowing me to ravage his mouth.

  I pry his zipper open, his breath hitching when I reach in and stroke. My movements quicken, using my toes to shove his jeans and briefs down. When the waistband of his boxers falls just above his knees, I slip off the back of the couch and take him deep into my mouth.

  “Fuck,” he says. “Oh, fuck.”

  He places his hands on either side of the couch, kicking away what remains of his clothes before curving forward to take in my motions. Maybe I’m supposed to turn away from his gaze, or close my eyes. Good girls don’t watch, right? They don’t lust after men. They don’t do what I’m doing down on my knees.

  If so, good girls are overrated and there’s no Callahan in their lives.

  This man―my man―enlivens every part me. I feel him and savor him down to my soul. The way he touches me, and how his face disappeared against me, demonstrates his desire, and incites mine. I surrender to our passion, dismissing any fears so I can take him without holding any part of me back.

  My mouth seeks him deeper. I’m so captivated by the way he reacts to my pulls and suction, I can’t help but watch, meeting his face with the full force of my ardor.

  His hand strokes over mine as I work him. “Keep going, baby,” he pants. “That feels so good.”

  I moan against him, his words accelerating my movements and spurring that clenching pain that yearns for another orgasm. My lips and hand continue to explore, and for a moment, I think he’s going to let me finish him. But then he wrenches me up and places me back on top of the couch.

  We move in perfect rhythm, like we’ve made love a thousand times, my legs falling open and my hands clasping his shoulders. I groan when he strokes me with his thick tip.

  “You sure you want this?” he asks.

  My lids squeeze tight as he makes another pass. But I meet his eyes to let him know I mean what I say. “Please don’t stop,” I say, my words releasing in gasps.

  And he doesn’t, gradually easing himself inside me with slow steady pumps. My body for all that it’s ready to receive him is tight, given the time that’s passed since my last lover, and Callahan’s generous size.

  My teeth trail behind his ear to tug on the lobe, only for my tongue to flick between kisses.

  “Jesus, Trin,” he mumbles.

  He’s not the only one making noise. As he advances, my whimpers grow louder, needier, the anticipation making me tremble.

  He averts his chin, swearing. “Am I hurting you?”

  “No.” I sigh against his ear and swivel my hips. “Am I hurting you?”

  He chuckles softly, his voice dripping with lust. “No. You feel so good. So right.”

  With one final push he’s in. Then he begins to mo
ve. It’s then he begins to thrust.

  My spine bows as he slides in and out of me. Now, I’m swearing, begging him to go harder, and throwing my head back and screaming when he does.

  My orgasm builds hard and peaks faster, crashing at once and building again. I’m not sure how much I can take, it almost feels too good. But I want this, and for him to never let me go.

  Callahan whips me off the couch with my legs still pinned to his back and races us down the hall. If he intends to carry me to his bed, we never make it. Instead my back smacks against the door to the spare bedroom, his hips ramming into me and threatening to break the door off its hinges.

  Between the steady beat, his thrusts, and those deep lustful sounds breaking through his chest, my desire for him spirals and I lose my mind. Heat and want surge through me sending wicked jolts of energy shooting down my legs. This time when I finish, he finishes with me.

  He slows the pound of his hips, filling me as his chin tilts forward and his quick breaths tease my shoulder. He raises his head, the rise and fall of his chest matching mine, smiling gently and taking me in as if no one else matters.

  I almost tell him I love him.

  Because I do.

  Yet even though there’s no doubt in my mind, I can’t. Not yet. So as he keeps us linked and carries us to his bed, I do my best to show him.

  Again, I kiss him. Again I circle my hips against his lap, holding tight to him, and doing my best to stir his moans.

  Callahan smooths his hands over my breasts, pinching my nipples. The sexy way he plays naturally increases the speed of my rocking pelvis. It doesn’t take long for him grow and expand inside of me. He wants me again, and I so want him, too.

  I press my hands against his shoulders, forcing him flat on his back. I then slide his palm down the curve of my waist to rest against my side, angling my body so my hair sweeps along his chest in time with the movements of my hips. This time, he’s the one writhing beneath me. This time, I’m the one moving fast against him. This time, I’m showing him how badly I want him.