When We Met

by Marni Mann

  And just as the fire really began to build, he stopped, a grin crossing that sensual, satisfying mouth. “When will I see you again?”

  Work was the furthest thing on my mind, so it took me several moments to recall my schedule. “I have the next two days off, and then I’m on for three.”

  “Tomorrow night, I’m with a client. How about the following evening?”

  The heat was far from leaving my face. “Okay.”

  “My place. I’ll text you the address.”

  “Thank you again, Caleb.”

  I touched my flushed cheeks as I got out of the car, trying to cool them down while I walked into my building, taking the elevator to our floor. When I entered, Emily was on the couch, wrapped in a fuzzy pink robe and matching slippers, a beer in her hand.

  “Tell me everything.”

  I sat next to her, curling my legs into my chest. “I can’t believe you stayed up.”

  “I can’t believe you thought I would go to sleep.” There was a bottle of red on the coffee table and a glass that she filled and handed to me. “By the way you look right now, I’d almost think you got it on and whacked your head on the ceiling of his car. But I know better …” She clicked her glass to mine. “Start talking, missy.”

  Twenty-Two

  When I stepped into the lobby of Caleb’s building, his doorman took a copy of my ID and escorted me to the elevator, where there was only one button to press and that was PH. The doorman hit it for me, and I rose so many stories that my ears popped. When the door finally slid open, it took me a moment to realize I wasn’t in a hallway, like when I got off my own elevator. This was a foyer, where light music greeted me along with the smell of tomato sauce.

  That was when it hit me—I was inside Caleb’s condo. The downtempo global funk was his choice of music, and the heavenly scent was from whatever was being prepared in his kitchen.

  “Hey,” he said as he entered the space, a dish towel draped over his shoulder, the aroma of food getting stronger, as though he were bringing it with him.

  Casual wasn’t the way I would describe this man, but that was how he was dressed. A pair of weathered jeans hugging his legs, an unbuttoned polo shirt that showed hints of his chest. It quickly became my favorite look on him.

  “Hi.”

  He held my lower back, hauling my body closer to his. “Thanks for coming. You look fantastic.” His mouth hovered over me while he cupped my face, taking me in for several moments before pressing his lips against mine. The kiss lasted only long enough for me to breathe him in, the woodsy, citrusy scent enveloping me.

  “You didn’t have to bring anything,” he said, looking at the box in my hand.

  “It’s just some dessert.”

  “You baked?”

  I laughed, remembering the last time I’d attempted crack-and-bake cookies, forgetting they were in the oven and returning to a kitchen full of smoke. “That’s definitely not one of my skills.”

  He reached forward with his other hand, now holding both sides of my face, his lips warming mine for a second time. “You have many other talents.”

  He walked me farther into his home, and when I turned the corner, the space immediately took my breath away.

  “Wow.” I couldn’t hide the amazement on my face. “Caleb, I don’t even know what to say. This place is spectacular.”

  There were windows everywhere, surrounding almost the entire perimeter, capturing all angles of our magnificent city. The condo was completely open, rooms divided by the placement of furniture.

  “The sun rises there”—he pointed to a spot filled with multiple high-rises, none as tall as his—“and sets there.” He turned us, the opposite view just as magical.

  “Your home is stunning.”

  “Thank you.”

  He moved us closer to the glass, the sun just starting to lower, heavy swirls of deep orange and aqua in the sky.

  “I can’t imagine what it’s like to wake up to this.”

  I felt his eyes devouring me, but I couldn’t drag mine away from the outside scenery.

  “You’ll know tomorrow morning.”

  As his words sank in, my cheeks surely gave away my reaction.

  When I turned to him to respond, he instantly led me into the kitchen, where he took the pink box from my hand and set it on the counter, untied the string, and lifted the lid.

  “I didn’t know what flavor you liked,” I admitted as he looked at the assortment of cookies. “So, I guessed.”

  His grin was even more delicious than the gooey chocolate on the inside of those treats. “And which one did you pick?”

  “Not the rainbow chip, although it’s excellent.” I laughed and winked. “I went with the Oreo.”

  “You did very good.” He went over to the double oven, covering his hands in mitts before he reached inside the bottom one. “Let’s see if I did as well with choosing what to cook for you.” He set the casserole dish on a trivet, the top full of lightly browned cheese.

  “Tell me you didn’t make eggplant parm.”

  “You don’t eat chicken,” he said, recalling our conversation from the bar. “That’s probably what I’m best at, but eggplant comes in at a close second.”

  I closed my eyes, inhaling a smell that I wanted to bottle. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”

  “Wait until you taste it.”

  Once he put a piece on each plate, I brought them to the table, which had already been set with salad and bread and an opened bottle of red wine that I poured into our glasses.

  I took the seat across from him, placing my napkin on my lap. “Thank you, Caleb.” I added each of the sides to my plate and lifted the drink in my hand. “This is everything.”

  Everything a man had never done for me before.

  “I think we need to cheers to that.” He tapped his wine against mine. “But I assure you, this is only the beginning.”

  As his words echoed in my head, a wave of tingles came shooting through me.

  Stalling long enough, I picked up my fork and dug into the corner of the eggplant. I hid my mouth with the back of my hand and groaned, “Oh God, I was right. This is even more than everything.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”

  I shook my head, taking another bite. “Like is an understatement.” I speared two cherry tomatoes and a small cucumber slice and popped those into my mouth. “What else can you cook? Because, aside from being a nurse, eating is my other favorite thing to do.”

  “I’ll make you whatever you want.”

  That was the most alluring statement—and a dangerous one. Like they said about men, a way to my heart was definitely through my stomach. If everything Caleb made tasted this delicious, I was going to be in trouble.

  “How did you learn to cook?”

  He took a drink first and answered, “My nanny. She was from Sicily and taught me everything I know.”

  When the eggplant hit my tongue, I could taste the thin layer of breading, and somehow, he had made it crispy on the outer edges and soft in the center. “That woman needs to write a cookbook. She’s a genius.”

  He stared at me, his hand on his wine. “Aside from my mother, you’re the first woman I’ve done this for.”

  His admission simmered in my chest.

  “The first?”

  “Friends, colleagues—they’ve all sampled my food. But I’ve never invited a woman into my home and cooked her a meal and eaten at this table. In fact, you’re the first woman who’s ever come here.”

  Caleb seemed to have many layers. I had seen one outside the bar when he stopped me from entering the street and another when he talked about business and that feral stare of his whenever he kissed me.

  Now, this.

  Bracing myself, I wrapped my fingers around the stem of the glass. “Why did you let me in?”

  “You base your decisions on your gut, and I get certain feelings about people. Aside from you being so fucking beautiful, there’s something extremely intri
guing about you, Whitney.” His eyelids narrowed, and then he rose from his chair. After setting his napkin on the table, he reached for me. “Come here.”

  When our hands linked, he brought me over to one of the tall panes of glass and stood behind me. The coldness of the air seeped through the window, the sight darkening as the sun took its final dip.

  “Copley Square,” he whispered, his arm moving across my shoulder to point in the distance.

  Where the bombing had taken place. A memory neither of us would forget.

  But from up here, what felt like the center of the clouds, I couldn’t hear the cries or screams. I couldn’t see the damage that had been left behind.

  All I could see was hope.

  He was holding my waist, his face close to my neck, his breath trickling over my skin. “Whitney, I believe everything happens for a reason.”

  Shivers passed through me, and I wasn’t sure why.

  “And that day led me to you.” He turned me around, his hand rising to my face, gripping me in a way that made me never want to move. “You were put in my life, and I have no intention of letting go.”

  Pressing my back to the glass, he lifted me until my legs circled his waist.

  I held on to his shoulders and whispered, “Neither do I.”

  The moment his tongue touched mine, a burst let off in my chest and moved down my body. I felt each of his breaths against my face, swallowing them, taking in as much of him as I could. With the glass holding my weight, his fingers lowered to my neck, his mouth devouring me like our kiss was the only thing keeping us alive.

  I tightened my legs around him, moaning, “Caleb,” as he went to my nipples, brushing across the tips through my bra.

  “Fuck …” He lowered to my ass, squeezing. “You feel so good.” With his lips on my neck, my hair rubbing against the freezing glass, he added, “But I need more, and I can’t wait another second to taste you.”

  The sound that came out of me was the answer he needed, and suddenly, he was carrying me through the large, open space and into a small hallway that led to a massive bedroom. He placed me on the edge of the bed, lifting my top over my head while I worked on the button of his jeans.

  “Jesus, Whitney.” He looked down at me as I sat in my bra. “You’re gorgeous.”

  The compliment caused another wave of heat to move through me, and I began to strip away the rest of his clothes, scanning each part of him that was revealed. Muscles and tight skin, hair in all the places that made him the most masculine man.

  “Don’t ever stop looking at me like that,” he said.

  I knew I wouldn’t be able to; his body wasn’t something I saw every day, not with the way he took care of himself.

  Before I could even breathe, he was tugging off the remainder of what I had on, leaving me bare.

  He slowly grazed down my navel, leaving goose bumps in his wake. “Fuck me.” He kissed the top of both breasts. “It’s a good thing I didn’t know this body was hiding under your clothes, or the eggplant would have burned by now.” He sucked my nipple into his mouth. “You’re stunning.”

  “Oh God.”

  My legs spread, and he moved in between them, his tongue flicking across the peak of my nipple, the hard nip of his teeth reminding me that he was completely in control of my body. He switched to the other side, and my head fell back against the mattress as I took in the sensations exploding through me.

  He slid down again, kissing the bottom of my navel. “I need you on my tongue.” His mouth aimed for the top of my clit, licking across and down. “Perfection,” he hissed, the feral side of him now ravishing me.

  “Oh, yesss,” I sighed, the pressure bringing me to a whole new place, one that was building around his mouth.

  He rolled my nipple, his other hand slithering through my wetness until two of his fingers were inside me.

  I squeezed the blanket underneath, my head grinding into the bed, shouting, “Caleb,” as the orgasm tore through me, holding me prisoner as he licked through each wave of pleasure.

  I was still trembling when he reached over me to get a condom from the nightstand, sliding it on before he wrapped my legs around his waist. His tip teased my entrance, my hips shifting to welcome him.

  He went slow, allowing me to spread to his size, and when he was fully inside me, his lips pressed to my throat, kissing up to my mouth as he held my face steady. “You feel unbelievable,” he breathed. “And you’re so wet … but I don’t know how much longer I can be gentle.”

  I raked my hand through his hair, gripping it with a heavy strength. “I don’t need you to be.”

  “Fuck me,” he groaned. He got onto his knees, lifting my ass off the bed but keeping me wrapped around him, and he plunged into me. “You’re so goddamn tight.”

  And so was the way he held me, his grasp moving around my body as he adjusted our placement, always searching for a spot that would give me pleasure. He was pinching my nipples, rubbing my clit, all while he pounded into me, each thrust causing me to moan. And just when I was about to come again, he was pulling my back off the bed, straddling me around him as he sat.

  Suddenly, I had all the control.

  “I want to watch you.”

  There was such an intense hunger in his stare. I expected to be ravaged, and I was, by his hands. Each dive I took, bouncing from the tip to his base, feeling his hardness and fullness, his fingers began to travel over me.

  “Whitney,” he breathed as my speed increased. “You’re fucking incredible.” He took a nipple into his mouth, nibbling the end, sending a whole new feeling through me.

  After every dip, his tongue made a rotation, his fingers focusing on my clit.

  “My God.” I quivered, so full of sensations that I couldn’t tell where they were all coming from. But as I ground over his dick, I felt the return of that build, of the tingling, of the way he was completely consuming every part of me. “Caleb …”

  His lips dragged higher until they were on mine. “I want you to come.” He gripped my hair. “And I want to hear you scream my name when you do.”

  I was stabbing his shoulders with my nails, my back arching, each rock of my hips causing it all to increase. Just as the sparks began to explode in my stomach, he bore down on my nipple with his fingers, the other hand on my clit. The combination caused his name to come shooting from my mouth.

  “Yes, Whitney, just like that.”

  He took control of the movements, his speed faster than mine, and I did everything I could to hold on.

  “Goddamn it,” he roared against my mouth, “I’m going to fucking come.”

  Each thrust sent my hips bucking as I came with him, squeezing him inside, feeling him hit the end of me each time. They were fast, deep, hard motions until our bodies eventually stilled, our breathing slowed, and he kissed me with a gentleness, like it was our first time.

  “You’re amazing,” he said.

  He was still in me, our noses touching, my hands clutching the bottom of his neck.

  We were quiet for several moments, taking in each other’s heat, until he said, “I have an idea.”

  I pulled my face back to look into his eyes.

  “How about we bring those cookies upstairs?”

  “You have another floor?” I asked since I hadn’t seen stairs.

  He nodded. “The roof, where I built a Jacuzzi.”

  “Please take me there. Right now.”

  He laughed. “And when I get you in that water, I’m going to do this all over again.” His mouth moved to my ear. “Except, this time, I’m going to go extra slow.”

  Twenty-Three

  With my eyes half-open, I took out my keys from my purse and felt around the knob for the hole, yawning as I slid one into the lock. Every muscle in my body was screaming for my bed; even my toes ached in my clogs from the hours I’d spent on my feet and all the times I’d run the hallways of my unit.

  “Dinner is on top of the stove,” Emily said once I walked in, her voice c
oming from the living room. “Cold beer is in the fridge.”

  “You cooked?” Without waiting for her to answer, I added, “I love you.”

  I dropped my bag onto one of the barstools and found the plate wrapped in foil. I lifted it into my arms, grabbing a beer and a fork, and joined her on the couch.

  She turned down the volume of the TV. “How was work? You look like you could sleep for a month, so I’m assuming it was a rock-star day.”

  I tossed my sweatshirt onto one of the cushions and kicked off my shoes, guzzling half the beer. “You have no idea … I didn’t even get to finish the granola bar I’d opened twelve hours ago.”

  “Good Lord, you must be starving.”

  “I’m beyond that.” I tore off the foil and was greeted by a heaping pile of spaghetti and meatballs with a slice of garlic bread. “I love you again,” I moaned, taking a bite, “and again for never letting me go hungry.”

  She unfolded the fuzzy blanket that lived on top of the couch and spread it over her lap. “I was walking home from work and passed our favorite bakery. This cake in the window started speaking to me—you know, whispering naughty things.” She gave me a huge smile. “So, there’s dessert when you’re done.”

  “And one more time,” I grumbled, my mouth full of a meatball. “This is really delicious.” I inhaled a corner of the garlic bread. “Mmm, this is too.” I swallowed. “How was your day?”

  “Oh, you know, teaching a classroom of thirty kids about the US Constitution—about as dry and painful as it sounds.” She drank her beer. “I caught one student drooling on his desk. Legit puddle and everything.”

  I giggled. “I can’t imagine why they would fall asleep; history is such a fun-fest.”

  “But I even sang to them.” She used the bottle as a microphone and suddenly started belting out her interpretation of James Madison.

  I couldn’t stop laughing. “You’re way cooler than any teacher I ever had.”

  “I’m glad someone thinks so.” She tucked her legs beneath her and adjusted the blanket. “You’ve finished a grueling stretch. What are you going to do with your four days off?”