Chapter 28
Lana
Sunday nights used to be sacred to me. I had time to organize for the week and let my brain settle before Monday hit. But to Callan, Sunday nights apparently meant the opposite. He was throwing another party, and I wasn’t sure what the occasion was. Whatever it was, it had to happen tonight.
Holland was spending the night, which broke my Sunday reset rule in the first place, but she asked to hang out and soon after showed up at my door with her sleepover bag.
She was sprawled across my bed in her cute pajama shorts and T-shirt, scrolling through her phone and occasionally tossing a mini chocolate chip cookie into her mouth.
I was sitting cross-legged on the bed in my own matching set of white satin pajamas with little hearts all over, skimming through a fashion magazine, and trying to ignore the bass from downstairs.
He didn’t care that it was late, or that he had a roommate who was still in college. When Callan wanted noise, he created it.
The walls vibrated, the floors thumped, and even my bed frame rattled a little. I sighed and leaned back against it, and watched Holland grin at me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. I didn’t have to ask to know what she was thinking, and I started to shake my head.
She rolled her eyes at our silent conversation. “Oh, come on…we can’t possibly sit up here while there’s a party going on downstairs.”
“I was hoping for a quiet night for once.”
“Lame!” she exclaimed, pushing herself up to sit. “Come on, I feel like dancing. It’s too loud to fall asleep, anyway.”
I hesitated, glancing toward the door and listening to the noise. She was right. I couldn’t fall asleep like this, but maybe a little dancing would make me tired enough to help with that. Holland slid off the bed and held out her hand. “C’mon. Just for a bit. I’ll make sure you survive.”
I sighed but let her pull me out of my room and down the stairs. The music became louder with each step, and when the living room came into view, I saw just how packed it was. There were more people than I expected, but I wasn’t really surprised.
Holland shoved me gently toward the center of the room, grinning from ear to ear. “See? Isn’t this better than hiding upstairs?”
I blinked, taking it all in. I tried to square my shoulders, letting my body loosen. And then…I started to move. Holland laughed and encouraged me with a nod, then she grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the crowd.
“Just dance,” she shouted over the music. “You deserve to have fun.”
I chuckled and decided that she was right. I could say “fuck it” for once.
Bodies moved around us, and I let myself fall into the rhythm. Holland danced close, hair swinging, smile bright. I matched her pace, and I was actually starting to enjoy it.
We danced through three songs, then Holland leaned in and yelled, “I need water,” and vanished toward the kitchen.
I wanted to call after her, but she had already disappeared.
I stayed in the crowd for a moment. People swayed around me, bumping into me without regard, and I somehow managed to squeeze through to the kitchen.
But instead of reaching Holland who was standing in front of the open fridge, I was pulled to the side with a large hand wrapped around my wrist.
I glanced up and saw Callan looking down at me.
He watched me with that familiar focus, and curious look he used when he was figuring out what I was thinking.
He didn’t say anything for a while, and I kept staring up at him without ever taking my eyes off him.
His gaze dropped to my pajamas, not seeming slightly amused that I hadn’t bothered changing into something more appropriate for this party.
When his eyes met mine, and he understood that I wasn’t going to speak first, he leaned in close enough that I could hear his voice over the music.
“You having fun?”
“Yeah,” I replied, raising my voice too. “Holland forced me down here.”
I didn’t mean to explain anything to him, or justify why I was down here, but I didn’t want to come off as rude either.
He smiled a little. “Good.”
We stared at each other again, and it felt like the noise around us started to disappear.
This had happened to me before, back at the observatory.
It felt like it was just him and me, when in reality, we weren’t alone.
And the longer he held my gaze, the more I felt myself give in to the pull toward him.
“What are you celebrating?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Nothing special.”
“And it had to be on a Sunday night?” I tried not to sound too annoyed. Though I had every right to be.
He didn’t have a quick response this time. He pursed his lips and did what he did best: ignore uncomfortable topics. Instead, he slid one hand around my waist and pulled me closer. He wasn’t asking for permission. He took what he wanted without asking, and I let him.
Seconds later, we were moving. His other hand came around my waist too, and I lifted my hands to grab onto his shoulders.
I was letting loose again, not caring about the possible consequences of dancing with him.
I was following Holland’s advice again, and since she had disappeared and was probably already dancing with someone else, I let myself sink into the moment.
His hands stayed on my lower back, guiding me with an ease that made it impossible to overthink.
I didn’t look around. I didn’t check who was watching.
I only felt the heat of his palms and the way our bodies matched the beat without effort.
He adjusted his hands, pulling me a little closer as he dipped his head, brushing his mouth near my cheek.
He didn’t kiss me yet, trying to draw out the anticipation, to make me want it as badly as he did.
I could feel his breath against my skin, and it sent a shiver down my spine that had no business being there.
My body was on fire, and I dug my nails into his shoulders, fighting the urge to tilt my head and let him have what he wanted.
But I wasn’t strong enough. I turned my head, my lips brushing his for a split second before he claimed my mouth.
His lips moved slowly, testing the waters at first. But when I kissed him back, he traced his tongue along my bottom lip before sliding into my mouth, and I met him halfway.
One of his hands moved up from my back, his fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of my neck, tilting my head to deepen the kiss. I sighed into his mouth, my fingers tightening on his shoulders.
The people around us faded into a muffled sound.
There was no music, no crowd, no consequences anymore.
There was only him, the warmth of his body against mine, and the way his mouth moved with a confidence that was both thrilling and comforting.
My body was responding to him, with heat building low in my belly.
Through the fabric of our clothes, I felt the unmistakable, hardening length of his cock pressing against me.
A wave of arousal washed over me, so potent it made my knees feel weak.
He was getting hard in the middle of a crowded dance floor, from just a kiss, and it was meant just for me.
It wasn’t for a camera or a scene. The thought sent a jolt straight through me, and I pressed myself closer.
I could feel the heat of him, his firm grip keeping me tight against his body, and it was the most intoxicating thing I had ever felt.
He groaned low in his throat, and his kiss became more demanding and possessive.
His other hand slid down my back, over the curve of my ass, pulling me flush against him, leaving no doubt about what he wanted.
In that moment, I didn’t care about the past or the future.
I didn’t care about the rules I had set, or the risks that could come from this.
All I cared about was him, and the way he was making me feel like I was the only person in the room.
He broke the kiss and brushed his lips along my cheek until his mouth was close to my ear. “I need you,” he whispered before pressing another kiss to my neck.
The words hit me hard, and they went past any rational thought and straight to the need I felt the second he pulled me against him.
I pulled back just enough to look at him, his eyes dark and burning with an intensity that made my breath catch.
There was no hesitation in his gaze, only raw, unfiltered need.
My heart was racing in my chest. A voice was telling me to stop this, but another was screaming at me to give in. Letting both outcomes play out in my head, I decided I liked the second better. “Then take me upstairs.”
His eyes flared, and without another word, he grabbed my hand. His grip was firm as he threaded us through the crowd. He pulled me toward the stairs, and we headed upstairs without another backward glance.
We reached my bedroom door, and he pushed it open and pulled me inside.
He kicked the door shut behind us, then turned to me.
He didn’t say anything, just looked at me, his chest rising and falling with his shallow breaths.
Then he stepped closer, his hands cupping my face as he kissed me again.
This time it wasn’t slow or testing. It was a hungry and consuming kiss that tasted of longing and regret and pure, unadulterated lust.
His hands roamed down my body, over my shoulders and my back, until they found the hem of my shirt.
He broke the kiss just long enough to pull it over my head in one swift motion, tossing it aside.
Meanwhile, I got rid of my shorts and panties, letting them fall to the floor, and stepping out of them.
His eyes roamed over me, taking in every inch of my naked body.
“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice thick with awe. “You’re so fucking perfect.”