Chapter 29 Callie
Callie
No man has ever treated me the way River does.
Certainly not Zane.
Not even back when things were good, when I thought love meant compromise and quiet resignation, did he ever truly put me first.
It’s hard to explain what that realization does to me. How it hits low and deep, unraveling something I hadn’t even realized was wound tight. Like a knot I’d been carrying in my chest for years, too used to the pressure to even notice it was there.
Until River.
What I now understand is that River isn’t just kind in the big, sweeping, movie-scene ways.
He’s kind in the quiet and thoughtful ones.
The ones no one else sees.
It’s the way he watches me out of the corner of his eye, to make sure I’m okay.
The way he crouches down to help Nora with her shoes without waiting to be asked, like it’s already second nature to care for her.
The way he gives me space when I need it, but never enough to make me feel like I’m alone again.
I don’t understand him.
How can a man like River, a professional athlete, confident, devastatingly handsome, capable of having any woman he wants, be this gentle?
This generous?
This present?
How is it that he’s always thinking of me?
And my daughter?
Of what we need, sometimes before I even know myself?
It’s like the weight I’ve carried around with me for years has finally been lifted.
There’s no pressure or expectation in the way he holds me.
Just warmth. A steady strength wrapped around me like a promise I’m not used to being given.
Maybe that’s why I don’t overthink it.
Why I don’t talk myself out of something that feels right.
The word just slips out. “Okay.”
River pulls back slightly, just enough to see my face. His eyes search mine with that familiar patience, like he’s not just looking for consent but for any trace of doubt I might not even know I’m carrying.
“Okay?” he echoes.
This time, I don’t hesitate. A small, nervous smile tugs at my lips as I nod. “I want you to show me.”
His brows lift slightly. “Are you sure?”
There’s a flutter of nerves beneath my ribs. The thought of him watching me do something so vulnerable sends a flush of heat across my skin, but it’s not from fear.
Not with him.
Vulnerability… yes.
But it’s so much more than that.
It’s trust.
The kind that’s deep, quiet, and steady.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
Something shifts in his expression as a tender smile spreads across his face that feels dangerously close to awe. As if I’ve handed him a piece of my heart, and he knows exactly how fragile it is.
“Why don’t you take a shower and relax,” he says gently. “I’ll be here waiting when you’re done.”
With a nod, I slip from his embrace, and immediately feel the absence of his warmth.
In the bathroom, I take my time. Each piece of clothing comes off slowly, like I’m shedding old skin and letting go of all the pieces of myself that once believed I had to earn affection or prove my worth.
The tile is cool beneath my feet. Steam curls around me as I step into the shower, and the hot water rains down over my skin, soothing and cleansing all at once.
I wash my hair twice.
Once to clean it.
And then again, just to feel the quiet comfort of the moment stretch a little longer. It isn’t hesitation. How could it be when every part of me is buzzing with hope, curiosity, and, yeah… nerves.
And when I finally step out and towel off, I feel a little lighter.
A little steadier.
A little braver.
I reach for his robe. It’s thick and plush, wrapping around me completely. What I like most is that it smells just like him. Clean and woodsy, with that warm, spicy undertone that makes my stomach dip and my pulse stutter.
Enveloped in the comfort of him, I take a moment to let everything settle before glancing around the space and pausing near the vanity, checking a drawer, then another, looking for a hair dryer.
When my search turns up empty, I pad barefoot into the bedroom, still towel-drying my hair with one hand. River’s sitting on the edge of the bed. His eyes lift the second I appear before slowly raking down the length of me.
His jaw tics slightly. “You look good in my robe.”
Heat climbs up my neck again, and I cross my arms, as if I’m not affected by the comment or falling just a little bit more with every conversation.
“Do you have a hair dryer?”
“Yup. It’s in the drawer under the sink. Let me grab it for you.”
Rising to his feet, he moves past me into the bathroom before opening the one drawer I hadn’t thought to check, and pulling out a sleek, high-end hair dryer.
“Sit down.” He nods toward the small vanity stool.
I blink, caught off guard. “No, that’s okay. I can—”
“Sit, Callie.” His voice is quiet yet firm. “Let me do it for you.”
There’s no push in his tone.
No demand.
Just a steady insistence that’s laced with care.
The kind I’m not used to.
The kind that undoes me a little more every time he offers it.
A rush of warmth that has nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with this man, skitters through me as I lower myself onto the chair. River picks up my brush, plugs in the dryer, and runs his fingers gently through my damp strands before starting.
The hum of the dryer fills the room as warm air kisses the back of my neck.
His hands move carefully, brushing through the tangles with such patience that it doesn’t take long for my muscles to uncoil.
The bristles glide across my scalp, followed by his fingers.
It’s a rhythm that feels strangely intimate.
From beneath my lashes, I watch him in the mirror. His expression is focused and tender. As if what he’s doing is something to be savored.
When the robe slips slightly off one shoulder, he adjusts it without a word, careful to keep me warm. It doesn’t take long for my eyes to drift shut as the tension in my spine melts away. The steady strokes through my hair lull me into a state of contentment.
“No one’s ever done this for me,” I admit, surprised by how raw the words sound out loud.
He pauses for a second, as if allowing the weight of the confession to settle between us. “Isn’t it about time someone did?”
Even though his tone is low and steady, there’s a quiet intensity behind the question that knocks something loose inside me.
I swallow hard, blinking against the sudden prick of tears that threaten.
It isn’t the gesture. But the care he’s taken with both me and my daughter since we’ve stepped foot in his home.
When he finishes, he unplugs the dryer and sets everything aside before meeting my gaze in the mirror. He doesn’t smile or tease. Instead, he looks at me with a serious expression that makes my throat ache.
I turn slightly in the chair to face him. “Thank you.”
He reaches out and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “Anytime.”
That’s the one thing I’ve noticed about River. He doesn’t rush or push. He gives me space to choose.
And somehow, that makes picking him feel easier.
I rise to my feet, nerves fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird in my stomach. The bedroom is dim and cozy, the lamp on the nightstand casting golden shadows across the mattress.
River walks ahead of me before settling with his back propped against the headboard and his legs stretched out comfortably in front of him. Only then does he pat the space between them. “Come here.”
A shiver of anticipation unfurls within me.
What’s happening feels so much more than just physical.
It’s the kind of closeness you can’t fake.
I climb carefully onto the mattress as my pulse thrums in my throat.
My knees sink into the softness as I crawl forward and ease between his legs, letting my spine settle against his chest. His arms wrap around me, low at my waist. They feel both warm and protective.
It’s exactly what I need. His cheek brushes the top of my head, and I close my eyes.
The robe clings to my damp skin as anticipation coils tight inside me. For now, we stay still. Just wrapped around each other like this is exactly where we were always meant to be.
His thumb brushes lightly along the inside of my wrist. It’s a simple touch that feels more like a promise.
When he speaks, his voice is low and rough at the edges. And I feel every word, like they’re not just spoken but etched into my skin.
“Do you still want to do this? It’s okay if you don’t.”
I nod, letting my head fall back against his shoulder. “I do.”
And I mean it. Every word. Every syllable.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel seen. Not for who I’m expected to be, but for who I actually am. I feel taken care of in a way that’s quiet and steady, not performative or conditional.
Unconsciously, my gaze drifts toward the toys resting on the nightstand.
River’s warm breath brushes my ear. “It’s just us. Nothing has to happen. But if you want to explore…” He reaches out and grabs the vibrator before clicking it on. A quiet buzz hums through the air. “Start with this setting. It’s the lightest.”
Already, my skin feels flushed. I hesitate before my fingers loosen the knot at my waist. The robe falls open slightly, the cool air brushing my bare skin as I shift in his lap and part my thighs.
My hand trembles as I take hold of the oval shaped toy and lower it to the most sensitive part of me. I fumble, the angle all wrong, nerves winding tighter with the passing of each second as it glides across my delicate flesh.
I squeeze my eyes shut as embarrassment swamps me. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
River’s hand wraps steadily around mine. “Then let me help.”
With careful patience, he guides my hand.
His fingers rest lightly over mine, never forcing, just offering steady support.
He helps me find a rhythm. It’s a gentle, teasing drag, along with subtle pressure that turns a flicker into a flame.
The vibrator grazes over my clit before dipping lower, and I gasp, my hips jerking as pleasure sparks through me like a live wire.
“Do you like that?” River asks against my ear. His mouth is so close I can feel the brush of his lips on my skin.
“Y-yeah,” I confess. “I do.”
More than I thought possible.
Even though part of me craves the security of his control, he doesn’t take over. He stays with me. His presence becomes a safety net, letting me explore this part of myself at my own pace.
My hips shift instinctively, seeking out more pressure, more friction.
More of this. My breathing quickens, every inhale catching in my throat.
The robe slips even farther from my shoulders, the fabric pooling around me, baring more of my body to the cool air and to him.
But I don’t reach for it or hide from the intimacy unfolding between us.
I spread my thighs wider, desperate for more of the sensation, the delicious rise of tension cresting just beyond my reach.
The vibrator hums, circling with just the right amount of pressure.
My body tightens, the coil in my core winding tighter and tighter, until I feel like I’m hanging by a thread.
And through it all, River doesn’t touch me.
Not directly.
Not in the way that would change everything.
Even so, it already feels like everything has changed.
“You’re so close, aren’t you?” he asks.
“Yes,” I admit. “It feels so good.”
“It should always feel good. You should take your pleasure any time you need to. You deserve it, Callie. You deserve to feel good in your skin. To claim it. Own it. If you were mine…” His words darken with promise, curling around me like crushed velvet.
“I’d worship every inch of you. I’d make sure you came every night, sometimes twice, until the only thing you ever craved was the sound of my voice and the feel of my hands on your body.
You’d never look elsewhere. You wouldn’t need to. ”
His words stroke something deep inside me, something long buried, something that aches to be seen and held. With him, there wouldn’t be any empty places.
No doubts.
Only him.
Only this.
The vibrator circles my clit before hitting it perfectly. Pleasure builds to a breaking point, and I arch, my eyes fluttering shut as a sob catches in my throat.
His arms continue to surround me, making me feel protected.
Like it’s all right to let go.
“I want to watch you fall apart.” His lips graze the shell of my ear. “I want to feel your body shatter from the pleasure you’re giving yourself.”
It’s those words that undo me.
Ecstasy explodes through me like a lightning strike, and my back bows. A raw cry rips from my throat as I come hard and fast against him. My body trembles and my thighs shake. The release is so intense it feels like I’m shattering from the inside out.
I’m floating and weightless in the best possible way.
Once spent, I collapse against his chest. My fingers go limp, the vibrator slipping from my grip as my head drops against his shoulder. My skin is damp with sweat as my legs continue to tremble.
I’ve never felt more alive or sated.
River gathers me up in his arms, as if I’m the most precious thing in the world.
“Thank you.” Emotion careens through me.
He presses a lingering kiss to the top of my head. “You have to know that it was my pleasure.” The words settle deep into my bones.
I tilt my face toward his, my gaze snagging on the curve of his mouth. My pulse stutters, each beat pounding louder as the space between us evaporates. When he leans in, his warm breath ghosting over my skin, I quiver with anticipation.
Instead of claiming me outright, he brushes against me once, then again with careful strokes that are dizzying. His knuckles skim along my jaw, steadying me, as if he knows I need the anchor. My lips part on a shaky inhalation as every nerve sparks with the need for more.
When his mouth finally settles over mine, the kiss is unhurried and deliberate. The first graze is gentle, but then his lips caress mine with more certainty before coaxing them open. Heat twists low in my belly, winding tighter as my mouth parts wider.
The slow glide of his tongue tangles with mine. It’s a soft clash that weakens everything inside me. The taste of him is intoxicating, and I can’t get enough. His hand slides along my jaw, tilting my face to deepen the kiss until the world beyond us blurs.
Every press of his mouth tells me that he doesn’t view this as something to be rushed. Everything about our first kiss is intentional, and it’s every bit as intimate as the way he guided me through my orgasm.
I sink into him completely, giving myself over without hesitation or fear.
It’s only this man and this moment.
And the quiet, life-altering realization that after years, I finally feel wanted.