Chapter 18 #2
My breath caught. A part of me considered pushing him back. But that part of me was miniscule in comparison to the other part of me. The one eager and hungry for his touch.
I opened my mouth, not sure what I intended to say. The words that came out actually shocked me. “We have time. My brothers likely aren’t conscious yet.”
Calder pulled back and stared deep into my eyes, as though he couldn’t believe what I’d just said. “But the artifact…”
“We aren’t going to steal it in broad daylight,” I whispered.
Heat flared in his eyes. “Are you sure? I know things are a little uncertain between us right now. And last night, I told you I didn’t want our future built on sex—”
“Calder,” I interrupted.
He closed his mouth and raised a brow.
“We aren’t going to have any time if you keep chattering.”
He froze for a moment, then chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”
The amusement in Calder’s eyes vanished completely as he stepped fully between my legs, his hips flush against the edge of the granite counter. The thick denim of his jeans dragged against the bare skin of my inner thighs, a rough friction that sent a lightning bolt of heat straight to my core.
Then, his hands were in my hair.
He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t ask if I was sure again. He just tilted my head back, angled his mouth over mine, and devoured me.
I let out a soft, involuntary moan that he swallowed whole. Five years of starvation, anger, grief, and agonizing longing poured into that single kiss.
I grabbed the collar of his shirt and bunched my fists in the fabric as I hauled him closer. I wanted him under my skin. My tongue swept against his, matching his aggressive, demanding rhythm. We were a tangled mess of frantic breaths and shifting bodies.
His hands dropped from my hair, his large palms dragging down my neck, over my shoulders, and settling heavily on my ribcage.
The warmth of his skin seeped right through the thin, ribbed cotton of my tank top.
He stroked his thumbs upward, brushing the undersides of my breasts.
My spine arched completely on instinct, pressing me harder against him.
“Calder,” I gasped against his mouth.
He tore his lips from mine, but only to drag his mouth down the line of my jaw. His teeth scraped lightly against my pulse point, drawing a sharp, stuttering breath from my lungs.
“Do you have any idea how many times I played out this exact moment in my head?” he whispered, his voice almost ragged.
“Show me,” I breathed, dropping my head back to give him better access.
His hands slipped under the hem of my tank top.
The sudden contrast of his calloused palms sliding up my bare stomach made me shiver, but not from the cold of the condo.
He traced the lines of my abs, mapping the changes in my body, feeling the muscles I’d built while he was gone.
When his fingers brushed the raised, jagged edge of one of the scars marring my side, he didn’t pull away.
He traced it with an agonizingly slow, reverent touch that nearly brought tears to my eyes.
I didn’t feel exposed. I didn’t feel the need to throw my armor back on. Sitting here in the morning light, I just felt loved.
But my patience was rapidly disintegrating.
I dragged my hands down his chest, feeling the solid wall of muscle beneath his shirt. I needed to feel him. Really feel him. My fingers fumbled with the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward with absolutely zero finesse.
Calder caught on instantly. He pulled back just enough to rip the shirt over his head in one fluid motion, tossing it blindly over his shoulder. It landed somewhere near the coffeemaker, but I couldn’t have cared less.
His chest was broad and tanned—exactly how I remembered it. I flattened my palms against his hot skin, feeling the heavy, erratic thud of his heart beneath my fingertips. He let out a low, rumbling groan at the contact, a sound so deeply masculine and feral it made my toes curl.
He pinned me completely against the counter once more. His hands slid down past my waist to the band of my sleep shorts. His fingers slipped beneath the elastic, resting against my bare hips.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmured, his golden eyes burning into mine. There was no hesitation left in him. Only a raw, consuming need that mirrored exactly what was clawing through my own chest.
He leaned in, capturing my lips again, but this time his hands moved lower, gripping my upper ass and pulling my hips right to the absolute edge of the stone.
The hard ridge of his arousal pressed firmly against my center through the thin barrier of our clothes.
I ground my hips forward instinctively, chasing the friction, chasing the blinding heat building between us.
His fingers gripped the elastic waistband of my shorts.
“Lift,” he ordered, his voice thick and demanding.
I didn’t hesitate. I braced my hands flat against the cold granite and arched my hips upward.
Calder dragged the cotton down my legs in one swift motion.
The cool morning air washed over my bare skin for only a fraction of a second before the scrap of fabric hit the hardwood floor, completely forgotten.
Calder took a half-step back. And then my husband dropped straight to his knees.
My breath caught painfully in my throat.
There was something deeply, profoundly erotic about seeing him like this, kneeling on my kitchen floor, his massive body perfectly framed between my parted legs. He rested his large, calloused hands lightly on the insides of my thighs, his thumbs pressing into the soft skin just above my knees.
He didn’t touch me anywhere else yet. He just slowly tilted his head back and looked up at me.
His eyes were entirely gold now, blazing with a raw, primal hunger that made my pulse roar in my ears. But beneath the feral need of his wolf, there was a deep, undeniable reverence. He was looking at me like I was the only thing holding his world together.
“Calder,” I whispered, my voice trembling. My fingers dug so hard into the edge of the counter, I thought it might crack.
“Mmm,” he murmured, his hot breath fanning across the hyper-sensitive skin of my inner thigh, “better than any fantasy.”
He leaned forward and pressed a searing kiss to the inside of my right knee. Then another, an inch higher. He took his time, methodically mapping out the terrain and recommitting my body to his memory. The light stubble on his jaw rasped against my flesh, sending violent tremors racing up my legs.
My head fell back, a ragged sigh escaping my lips as his mouth trailed higher. Every brush of his lips, every scrape of his teeth, tightened the coil of need pulling taut in my lower stomach.
He slid his hands up to grip my hips, his large palms anchoring me firmly to the edge of the granite so I couldn’t retreat even if I wanted to. Not that I did. I was burning alive, completely consumed by the heat of his mouth and the possessive slide of his thumbs against my hipbones.
When he finally reached my center, his breath brushing my most sensitive flesh, my eyes fluttered shut. My hands let go of the counter and tangled blindly into his dark hair, gripping the thick strands like a lifeline.
“Please,” I gasped, completely abandoning my pride.
The first wet, searing stroke of his tongue against my aching center sent a jolt of pleasure straight up my spine. I cried out, the sound echoing sharply off the quiet kitchen walls.
Calder groaned in response, a sound of pure satisfaction that I felt down to my toes. His grip on my hips tightened, his large hands acting as iron anchors holding me exactly where he wanted me as he finally went to work.
He was ruthless. He was starving. But above all, he was deeply, devastatingly thorough.
Every sweep of his tongue, every deliberate pull of his lips stripped away another layer of the armor I’d worn for half a decade.
He laved at my most sensitive flesh, drinking me in like a dying man who had finally found water.
The contrast was enough to drive me insane—the cold, unyielding stone biting into my butt and thighs, and the absolute, consuming fire of his mouth staking its claim over me.
I writhed against him, completely helpless to the rhythm he was setting.
My fingers tightened in his dark hair, alternately pulling him closer and trying to push him away when the pleasure crested too high, too fast. But my husband was an immovable force.
He took exactly what he wanted, adjusting his angle, his lips, and the relentless pressure of his tongue with a terrifying, practiced perfection that proved his muscle memory was just as good as mine.
“Calder—” My voice shattered. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. There was only the heat of him, the rough scrape of his jaw against my inner thighs, and the blinding pressure coiling tighter and tighter in my lower belly.
He knew exactly what he was doing. When the fine tremors started to shake my legs, he didn’t ease up or let me catch my breath. He did the exact opposite. He pressed his mouth harder against me, quickening his pace, ruthlessly chasing down the climax he was dragging out of me.
I broke.
A breathless cry tore from my throat as the tension finally snapped, crashing over me in a massive, blinding wave. My vision actually grayed at the edges. I clamped my legs tight around his shoulders, my nails biting into his scalp as wave after wave of intense release shattered me entirely.
Calder stayed right there, absorbing every tremor, soothing the hyper-sensitive aftermath with slow kisses until my breathing finally leveled out.
When he finally pulled back, he didn’t stand up right away. He rested his forehead against my stomach, his chest heaving as he fought for his own breath. I slumped forward, completely boneless, my hands sliding down to rest weakly against his broad shoulders.
He slowly lifted his head. His lips were wet, his jaw shadowed with stubble, and his golden eyes were dark with a fierce, possessive satisfaction.
“Still cold?” he asked, a wicked, breathtaking smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
I stared down at him, my chest still heaving as I tried to remember how oxygen worked.
He stared up at me from between my legs, awaiting my answer.
And it was then I realized he was giving me an option.
I could stop this right here. I could slide off the counter, grab my shorts from the floor, and use the impending heist as an excuse to walk away.
I could slam those walls back into place, protecting the most fragile parts of my heart. I could keep playing this safe.
But I also realized I didn’t want to. I was tired of hiding behind those walls and shielding myself off from everyone.
So, with a wicked smile, I said, “Yes. In fact, I’m freezing.”
Calder’s smirk broke into a devastating grin.
He didn’t give me a chance to blink. He surged upward, his large hands gripping my bare thighs as he effortlessly scooped me right off the edge of the island.
I instinctively wrapped my legs tight around his waist, locking my ankles securely behind his back as he stood, pinning my hips flush against the hard, heavy ridge straining behind his zipper.
“Then let’s get you under some blankets,” he growled, the vibration of his voice rumbling straight through my chest.
He didn’t bother grabbing his discarded shirt. He simply turned and carried me down the hallway toward the master bedroom with the kind of determined stride that promised I wouldn’t be leaving that bed anytime soon.
And I couldn’t wait.