Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
Caleb
The moment the word “yes” leaves her lips, relief floods through me, and I can’t help but pull her into my arms. I hug her tightly, lifting her off her feet and twirling her around, laughing as her soft laughter joins mine. For a second, everything feels like it’s falling back into place, like this is where we were always meant to be.
As I set her down, I slip the ring onto her finger, my hand trembling slightly. It’s a perfect fit, glistening on her hand like it was always meant to be there.
“Where did you get this beautiful ring?” she asks, her voice filled with awe as she stares at the diamond.
I smile, a mixture of pride and bittersweetness welling up inside me. “I had planned to give it to you on our second wedding anniversary,” I admit, my voice softening. “But . . . well, things didn’t exactly go as planned.”
She looks up at me, her eyes shimmering with emotion. “You kept it all this time?”
“Yeah,” I nod, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I never really gave up on us, Em. Even when I was angry, even when I was lost . . . and swore I hated you, a part of me always hoped we’d find our way back to each other.”
“What about all those women . . .?” she asks, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “Zoe said you had a huge lineup. You were never alone.”
Fucking Zoe. I don’t want to rehash this, but she deserves to know the truth. “I did bring dates to make sure no one would assume I was still pining for you—or that their girlfriends and wives wouldn’t start playing matchmaker. Other than bringing them with me, nothing went past that one first date.”
“It’s not that I’m jealous,” she clarifies, her tone almost defensive.
“Oh, baby, don’t lie to me. You hate the idea of somebody else looking at me—I bet it’s worse when it comes to dating,” I say teasingly.
“You’re pretty possessive too,” she comments.
“And I don’t deny it,” I say, my voice dropping, filled with an edge of possessiveness. The thought of someone else touching her, looking at her the way I do, makes my blood simmer. “Just the idea of someone else’s hands on you . . . It drives me fucking crazy. No one is allowed to touch you . . . you know that. Even you need to ask for my permission to touch yourself, Em. Always.”
She darkens with a blend of arousal and anticipation. I can feel the subtle shiver that runs through her, her body betraying her even as she tries to hold back.
“Do you want to touch yourself now?” I ask, my voice low and rough, the command just beneath the surface. “Do you want me to watch you, to see how fast you can make yourself come while you’re thinking about me?”
Her lips part, her breathing becoming shallow and rapid, and I can see the flush spreading across her cheeks. She bites her lip, a flirty glint in her eyes as she looks up at me through her lashes. “Maybe I do,” she murmurs, her voice playful but laced with need. “But what if I finger fuck myself while I suck your cock?”
I tsk, shaking my head slightly. “Greedy, greedy. You don’t get my cock. You haven’t earned it yet.” I lean in closer, my lips brushing against her ear. “You’re such a needy girl, baby. But why don’t I cook before we get sidetracked and . . . I eat you instead,” I suggest with a smirk, trying to regain control.
“I wouldn’t mind,” she murmurs, her voice sultry, her eyes challenging me.
“But I would,” I reply, shaking my head, doing my best to stay in control despite the heat between us. “We’re getting to know each other again. I want you to fall madly in love with me all over again, and after that . . .” I wink at her, leaning in close, my breath warm against her ear. “You’ll get a big prize for being a good girl.”
“What kind of prize?” she insists, her voice breathy, her eyes wide with curiosity and desire.
I take her hand and press it against my hard cock, guiding her fingers to feel the heat and need straining against my jeans. “You get this, baby. I’ll fuck every hole in your body—mark you. But not until you’re ready, until you’ve earned it.”
She gasps as she feels the hard length of me, her body instinctively arching closer, her eyes glazing over with pure want. I can see the way she’s fighting to hold back, the way she’s so ready to submit, to give me exactly what I want. But I know, for us, for our future, I have to wait. The anticipation is driving me crazy, but it’s necessary.
“Go change,” I order, my voice firm but laced with warmth. “You’re soaking, and don’t you dare wear skimpy clothes to tempt me. That’s an order. In the meantime, I’m going to start making you food.”
She hesitates for a moment, her eyes lingering on mine, filled with a mix of defiance and submission. But then she nods, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips as she turns to leave. My gaze follows her as she walks away, her ass swaying with every step, the sight almost too tempting to resist. But I do, because I’m determined to do this right.
I head to the kitchen to start preparing dinner, the tension between us still thick in the air. As I begin chopping vegetables, I hear her sauntering back into the room, her footsteps soft on the floor. When I glance up, she’s dressed in an old sweatshirt and leggings, yet she still manages to look irresistible. Her hair is slightly tousled, and her cheeks are flushed, like she’s been up to something.
I wouldn’t be surprised if she touched herself, defying me, making herself cum just to test my resolve. It’s a challenge, one that makes me want to spank her for her audacity, but I won’t give her what she wants.
There’s a quiet confidence in her step, a subtle shift in her demeanor, a hint of the woman I’ve been missing—the one I’m determined to bring back fully.
She leans against the counter, watching me with curiosity. “What are you making?”
“Chicken piccata,” I reply with a grin. “With roasted vegetables and a side of lemon-garlic potatoes.”
Her eyes widen slightly, and I can tell I’ve hit the mark. “That’s . . . my favorite.”
“I know,” I say, winking at her as I start prepping the chicken. “You think I would ever forget what you like? You’re branded in me, baby. All of you.”
I get to work, slicing the chicken breasts and seasoning them just right. The kitchen fills with the aroma of sizzling butter, garlic, and fresh lemon juice. I glance over at Em, who’s now on the couch holding a book. This feels . . . different, yet familiar. Very us, except now I know how to cook—haven’t burnt a piece of toast in years—and we’re older, knowing better and we’re ready for love, I hope.
As I sauté the chicken, I prepare the lemon sauce, letting the tangy aroma fill the kitchen as it blends with the buttery garlic. The roasted vegetables are crisping up nicely in the oven, and the potatoes are golden, their scent promising the perfect bite. It’s a simple meal, but one I know she loves. She told me her mom used to make it on her birthday and sometimes during the holidays, on those rare occasions when they could escape the clutches of her grandparents.
“The food’s almost ready. Can you pass me a couple of plates, Em?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder.
She steps closer and hands me the plates. “You really know how to cook, huh?”
I nod, focusing on plating the food. “It’s one of the first things I learned after the guys and I decided to retire. This was one of the first dishes I tried to perfect.”
“I forgot how swoony you can be,” she murmurs, her tone teasing but laced with something softer.
“Not sure what that means,” I reply, turning to look at her, a smile tugging at my lips. “But know that I’m just a man who wants to win back his wife. This is just the beginning, Em. I meant it when I said I’d do whatever it takes to make you fall in love with me again.”
Her smile is small, tentative, but it’s there, and that glimmer of hope is enough to keep me going. I hand her the plate, watching as she takes in the perfectly cooked chicken, vibrant vegetables, and the potatoes that practically beg to be devoured.
“Let’s eat,” I say, guiding her to the table. I wish I’d thought to set it up with candles and flowers—definitely, next time, when this can be less about getting reacquainted and more about truly romancing her. Because, let’s be honest, I’m already picturing how this night could end.
She takes a seat, and I can’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, we’re on the path to finding our way back to each other .
She cuts into the chicken, her fork sinking easily into the tender meat. As she takes the first bite, her eyes flutter closed, and a soft, almost involuntary moan escapes her lips. “Oh my God, Caleb, this is amazing,” she says, her voice a mix of surprise and delight.
I grin, a warm feeling spreading through me at her reaction. “You sound surprised. Didn’t think I could pull it off?”
She opens her eyes, giving me a playful look. “I didn’t doubt you, but I wasn’t expecting it to be this good. I mean, this is seriously delicious. If you keep cooking like this, I might never let you leave.”
“Well, that’s the plan,” I say with a wink. “Feed you so well you’ll be stuck with me forever.”
She laughs, the sound light and easy, and for a moment, it feels like old times. “Is this your master plan? Seduce me with food?”
“Food is just the beginning,” I tease, taking a bite of my own. “I’ve got a whole arsenal of tricks up my sleeve. Next, I’m thinking romantic walks, maybe some flowers—something subtle like a thousand roses or so.”
She arches an eyebrow. “A thousand, huh? That sounds like overkill.”
“Maybe, but I’m desperate here. I’m going all out.”
She shakes her head, smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I prefer determined,” I counter, leaning back in my chair, feeling more relaxed than I have in weeks. “Seriously though, I’m just happy you’re enjoying dinner. I wanted to do something special for you.”
“Well, mission accomplished,” she says, taking another bite. “You’ve definitely set the bar high. I’m impressed. ”
“I aim to please,” I say with a smirk, then add, “But don’t get too used to it. I’ve only got a few recipes in my repertoire. After this, it’s all eggs and toast.”
“Oh, I’ll hold you to that,” she teases back. “But if this is what you’re capable of, I think we’ll be just fine.”
We continue eating, the banter flowing easily between us, and for a moment, it’s as if nothing has changed—as if we’re just two people enjoying a meal together, laughing, talking, and letting the world outside fall away.