The Very Thought of You

by Iris Morland

“Considering the hot-and-cold act you like to play, yes.” His tone sparked anger deep inside her, and she rather wished they would start fighting again. She could understand fighting with Caleb Thornton. It was the softer moments—the vulnerable moments—where she lost her footing.

  “Considering how I kissed you that night in your apartment, and at your bakery today, I think it’s fairly clear that I want you.”

  “Because I’m a challenge. Because I pushed you away the last time we kissed, and you wanted to prove to yourself that you can conquer me. I can just be another notch on your bedpost.”

  She didn’t know where these words were coming from, yet they fell from her mouth like a torrent. Perhaps they’d been buried deep inside her all along, just waiting to be freed. Her doubts clawed at her soul, drawing blood. Why would he want me now when he’d never really wanted me before?

  And perhaps the greatest question of all: Who would really want me when no one ever had before?

  They stared at each other, at a stalemate. Caleb seemed incredulous, while Megan wanted to shake him until his teeth rattled.

  “If you really think that, then you’re not as intelligent as I thought you were.”

  She stood up and grabbed her purse. “Go to hell, Caleb. I don’t have time for this and I don’t have time for your bullshit, either.”

  Stalking out of the restaurant, Megan didn’t know where she would go. Caleb had picked her up, and it was too far to walk home. And she wasn’t particularly in the mood to walk home at night when the last time she’d done just that, she’d been followed and almost accosted by some creep.

  She rubbed her arms as shivers wracked her frame. It wasn’t cold outside, but she felt cold. Numb. She gritted her teeth to keep them from chattering.

  “Megan! Megan, dammit, wait!” Caleb grabbed her by the elbow. She pulled away. “What the hell was that all about?” he demanded.

  “Just leave me alone. Please. I want to go home. I can’t keep doing this with you. All we ever do is fight.” She sounded pathetic, desperate, and she was completely exhausted. And above all else, she hated herself for starting this fight in the first place, because it was easier to fight with Caleb than love him.

  Her chills only increased with that admission. I can’t love him, she thought, but she knew it was pointless.

  She’d fallen in love with him ages ago before she’d even realized it. Now she was too far in to stop it.

  Caleb put his hands on her shoulders as he turned her to face him. “What are we doing, Megan? What is this? Is this really about how I don’t want you?”

  He wrapped her in his arms, and she could only surrender. His body was hard, and he practically shook with anger. Or maybe it was sheer lust. Megan couldn’t know anymore.

  “You’re an idiot if you think I feel anything for you but complete obsession. You’ve driven me crazy ever since you tried to kiss me that night when I arrested you. I’ve wanted you for years, but I told myself you needed a better man than me.”

  He seemed to struggle for words. “But now? I don’t care. I don’t care about all of the times I said I’d stay away from you.” He gripped her so tightly she could barely breathe. “You’re mine, Megan Flannigan, and I don’t give a flying fuck if that pisses you off.”

  He kissed her ruthlessly, and she could only hang onto him. Digging her nails into his shoulders, she opened her mouth to him. He stroked inside her mouth like she knew he would stroke inside her body. She didn’t care that they were standing in the middle of the restaurant’s parking lot, or that anyone could see them under the streetlamp. She didn’t care about anything but being held in Caleb’s arms.

  “I’m taking you home now. If you don’t want to, you better say it now.”

  She buried her face in his neck. “Take me home with you,” she whispered. She tilted her head back so she could look him in the eye. “Take me home and make me yours.”

  His breaths came in pants, his heart hammering against his sternum. She kissed him there, right above his pounding heart, and he groaned. It was a groan of surrender, and she knew he’d finally given himself up to this as much as she had.

  She barely remembered the ride back to his place. When they arrived, he opened her car door and hauled her into his arms, carrying her into his house. She took in the masculine furniture, the darkly painted walls, and even the artwork framed on the walls, but it all faded away when Caleb set her down and kissed her. He cupped her face in his hands, gentleness replacing the desperation of earlier.

  “You sure about this?” he asked. “I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

  “I could never regret this. I’ve wanted this as long as you have.” She brushed his dark hair from his forehead in a tender caress. “I’m sorry for what I said. It was stupid of me. I ruined our date because I’m an idiot—”

  “Don’t. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except that you’re here with me.”

  Her heart clamored in her chest as she backed away. He raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t move to stop her. With unsteady movements, she began to unbutton her blouse. Even though her fingers trembled, she watched his face the entire time. She stripped out of her blouse and tossed it to the floor; it fluttered down like a pink bird until it landed in a haphazard heap.

  He licked his lips and made a move to approach her, but she shook her head. Steadier now, she unzipped her jeans and pushed them down to her ankles, kicking off her flats in the process. Now clad only in her black lace bra and panties, she let him drink her in. Appreciation showed clearly on his face, and based on how hard he was clenching his fists at his sides, he was barely leashing his hunger.

  She let her hair tumble down her shoulders before she reached behind her back to unhook her bra. Her breasts were heavy and her nipples ached, and the brush of the lace against her nipples made her shiver. As Caleb watched, she tossed her bra to the floor. She cupped her breasts as she approached him.

  She took his hands in hers and lifted them to cup her breasts, replacing her touch with his. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t move. She smiled a smile as old as Eve.

  She kissed that tight jaw, that delicious line that led to his shoulder. She inhaled his scent, and the smell went straight to her aching core. Taking his right hand, she placed it under the waistband of her panties, his palm pressing against her sex.

  He swore. He couldn’t stop himself from petting her nipple with one hand and her sex with the other. Closing her eyes, Megan breathed deeply.

  She could almost feel when Caleb’s control snapped. Growling, he pulled her into his arms and raced up the stairs to his bedroom.

  Linking her arms around his neck, she could only laugh softly in sheer delight.

  11

  Caleb couldn't help but feel like this moment was sacred, like he'd been waiting his whole life for it. As he gazed down at Megan's upturned face, he wanted to pour out his heart to her. Expose the inside of his soul, black and blue as it was, and beg her for absolution.

  Of course, it wasn't that simple, and he didn't deserve something like that. While she'd been honest and apologetic, he hadn't said a word about his own secrets. A voice whispered in his ear—fraud, coward—but he pushed it aside.

  This wasn't the time. He'd tell her at some point. Just not right now, when he had more important things to worry about.

  He laid her on the bed, almost reverently. He flipped on a lamp, and she looked like she had been dipped in sunshine. She almost glowed, like some kind of fairy creature. But when she sat up, a mischievous smile on her face, she was all human—and all Megan.

  She crooked a finger at him. "Come to bed, Officer," she purred.

  His cock hardened to the point that it was painful, and he struggled to take off his clothes fast enough. It didn't help that Megan lay back on his bed, her breasts up-thrust, wearing nothing but that scrap of lace she called panties.

  When his belt refused to be unbuckled, he decided he'd just pounce on her. He'd take care of logistics lat
er. She giggled when he encased her between his arms and legs, and before he could kiss her, she was pulling his head down for her kiss.

  She tasted like strawberries, and rainbows, and lightning storms, and God Almighty, he was turning into a poet, and a bad one at that. If he weren't careful, he'd kneel at her feet and pen an ode to her purple-painted toenails. God, I'm in deep. The thought should've terrified him, but it only confirmed his own swirling emotions.

  He was obsessed with the scattering of moles behind her right ear; the circuitous pattern of freckles around her collarbone; the way her hair shimmered with the colors of a sunset. But he also loved that her belly was slightly rounded, that she had a scar in the shape of a crescent moon on her upper left forearm, and that she made a face—a face that was a cross between consternation and absolute want—when he touched her. Her eyebrows furrowed, and her eyes narrowed, and it amused him more than he'd expected.

  He almost wanted to tell her, but he decided that although he'd done many stupid things in his life, telling a woman she looked amusing when she was lying naked underneath him would be the height of idiocy.

  Kissing his way down her neck, he pushed her breasts up as he licked the soft skin underneath them. She mewled, a desperate sound, and he reveled in it. He thumbed her nipples before he lightly pinched them, and they became swollen red berries that he longed to suckle. Giving into what he wanted, he pulled one into his mouth, the silkiness of her skin beyond anything he could've imagined. She ran her fingers through his hair, murmuring his name, as he sucked one nipple and then the other.

  The night at her apartment filled his memory, and he could taste her on his tongue already. But he wanted to see more of her, and with a quick movement, he moved so she lay on her stomach. He palmed her ass, barely concealed by her lace panties.

  Megan looked at him over her shoulder. "Should I ask what you're doing?" she said, her voice husky.

  Caleb traced patterns on her ass before spanking it with a light slap. She yelped, which only made him slap the other cheek. That second smack earned him an appreciative purr, and Megan stretched onto his bed like a cat in heat.

  Dipping his fingers into the waistband of her panties, he pulled them down her waist and off of her until she was completely naked. His mouth watered at all of that creamy nudity splayed on his bed, her ass slightly red from his spanking. He was still fully clothed, and the contrast of their two states of dress only heightened the sexual tension.

  Megan looked like she wanted to flip over again, but he held her down. With gentle hands, he parted her legs, revealing first the patch of auburn curls on her mound, and then the pink petals of her sex. They already gleamed with moisture, and when he slicked a finger through them, she shivered.

  He kissed the small of her back, his fingers petting her, feeling her hips rise with each of his touches. Swirling her wetness through her folds, he nipped the arch of one buttock and then the other. Megan's breathing increased, and a flush began to cover her back to her shoulders. He licked at the salty sweat beading on her back as he pushed a finger inside her, the heel of his hand pressing against her clit.

  "Oh just like that, harder," she moaned. "I need you so badly, Caleb."

  He stroked her with his finger, at first slowly, and then faster, his hand brushing her clit with each thrust. Her body tightened, and when he added another finger, she squealed. Wetness coated his entire hand, and the sounds of his pounding into her only made his own body practically vibrate with need. His cock strained against his jeans.

  Megan bucked and writhed. He drank in the sight of her losing control, and it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. When he pumped his finger one last time, she came, her head tilted back and her body shaking. Her sheath contracted around his fingers in a vice-like grip. Gently rubbing her clit a little longer, he withdrew, standing over her to undress.

  She turned over, her body flushed and perspiring, her hair tangled about her shoulders. She watched with a lazy gaze as he stripped out of his clothes, but Megan wasn't some passive partner. When his cock was unveiled, she sat up and reached for him with a sensual smile. With her face so close to his cock and her hands busy around his shaft, he had to grit his teeth until he was sure they were going to turn into nubs.

  That tongue of hers licked him from root to tip; his toes curled into the carpet. A vein alongside the length of his cock pulsed in time with his heartbeat.

  "I had a feeling you'd be packing, but this is definitely a surprise." She smiled even wider as she swirled her tongue around the sensitive crown. "I'm not sure you're going to fit, though. I've never had a guy as big as you."

  He grimaced, but only because he was afraid he wouldn't be able to go slow enough for her. Closing his eyes, he tried to think of ice baths and cold showers, but it didn't help. When she cupped his balls with her palm, he cursed and pushed her without ceremony back onto the bed.

  Before he climbed on top of her, he fished in his bedside drawer for a condom. After ripping open the foil packet after a few tries, Megan biting her lip to restrain a giggle, he fell upon her. Kissing her with open-mouthed desperation, their tongues tangled as Megan bent her knees right as his cock brushed her wet curls.

  "I don't know if I can go slow," he admitted. "I've wanted you for too long. But if I hurt you, just tell me, and I'll stop—"

  She placed a finger against his lip. "You won't hurt me. I want you. I want you inside me." She kissed him before whispering, "Make love to me, Caleb."

  Megan didn't realize she was holding her breath, but when Caleb began to press inside her, she had to gasp for air. Not out of discomfort, but because she hadn't known what it would truly feel like to have him within her like this. She'd imagined it so many times, but to have his length fill her, his arms and legs enclosing her, and his gaze glued to her own—it was more than she could've ever imagined.

  She swallowed, her throat dry. Her heart pounded until she could feel it in her temples. Finally, he was completely inside her, and they both let out moans at the same time. Megan brushed Caleb's hair from his forehead, where it was damp with perspiration, and he closed his eyes at her touch. His arms trembled.

  When he didn't move, she hitched her hips upward. He opened his eyes, his pupils blown wide. Finally, he started to move.

  Megan shook; she begged. She scratched his chest, his shoulders, his upper arms. He pulled out of her only to slam back in, and her eyes rolled back in her head. Clutching at the sheets, she couldn't help but wonder if she would simply drift away from so much pleasure. Intense, enveloping pleasure, the kind that she'd never thought was possible.

  Caleb took her and claimed her. She knew after this, she'd never get him out of her heart—even if she wanted to. She kissed his chest and pulled his head down to kiss her as he pounded into her. Hooking her legs over his arms, he opened her so wide that she didn't know how she would be able to stand it. She almost pleaded for him to stop because she was going to shatter. Not simply from desire, but from the inside out.

  "Fuck, baby, God," he growled in her ear. They kissed again, a meeting of lips and teeth and moans, and he sped his movements. With each movement, he brushed her clit, and Megan felt herself growing wetter and tighter. The bed squeaked under them.

  She started coming within moments, her belly tightening, and she gasped and screamed as she coiled higher and higher. Caleb only pumped into her harder, and with one last thrust, she burst into a million bits of light. Her throat hurt, and she only realized later it was from gasping and panting and screaming his name. She came and came, and she vaguely heard Caleb shout her name as he came, too.

  They collapsed into a sweaty heap, Caleb on top of her. She knew in a few minutes she'd ask him to move because he was heavy, but at the moment, she loved feeling his weight on top of her. Their bodies were sweat-slicked and smelling of sex and salt. Licking the side of his neck, she smiled when he grunted.

  With a kiss, Caleb rose from the bed, murmuring something that Megan couldn't really hear
. She yawned. She hadn't been this tired—like a rag doll that had been completely wrung out—in ages. She smiled dreamily as she closed her eyes. She heard water running and then Caleb climbed back into bed with her and pulled her into his arms.

  If she heard the words she'd dreamt of hearing in those moments between consciousness, she told herself in the morning she'd only been dreaming.

  It was still dark when Megan opened her eyes to the feeling of hands on her body. She smiled as those hands cupped her breasts—her nipples still sensitive from earlier ministrations—and she flipped over to face Caleb when his hand trailed down her belly.

  "What time is it?" she asked in a whisper.

  "I don't know. Early."

  She could barely make out his face in the dim light. Before he'd come back to bed, he'd switched off the lamp, plunging his bedroom into almost total darkness, thanks to the blackout curtains hanging from his windows. A little bit of light shone through the edges, but Megan rather felt like they were both formless figures floating somewhere.

  She touched his face with gentle fingers. Stubble rubbed against her fingertips, and she laughed softly when he kissed her fingers. He had an indentation on his left cheek—a small scar?—and she discovered a tiny mole near his right ear. His hair was silky soft, and she ran her fingers through it for a few moments. Caleb arched into her touch like a cat wanting to be petted.

  Really, if she thought about it, Caleb and Gary were rather alike: they wanted to be stroked, fed, and then they wanted to cuddle with you. Then again, she thought with an inner laugh, Gary certainly couldn't kiss her like Caleb was doing right now.

  This time, their lovemaking was languid. They touched each other without the feeling that it was the last time it would happen. Megan enjoyed discovering the textures of Caleb's body—hard muscle, springy hair, soft patches hidden by his clothes during the day—while Caleb did the same. He stroked her belly, the inside of her elbow, the sides of her torso. When he tickled the indentation of her waist, she squealed, trying to curve into a protective ball.