Chapter 14 #2
The Founder's Day Festival is one of Cupid's Creek's most significant annual events. And since Sam “Cupid” Cooper is my ancestor, Nikki and I, and our parents and grandparents before us, are expected to participate. Honestly, it can be fun. We used to love it as kids, thinking the party was just for us. A few of the old-timers enjoy reenacting the cattle days, with some playing the part of rustlers and others pretending to be Sam, saving the town. Travis Kincaid usually offers up a few head of cattle to be part of fun, and of course, there’s storytelling—all of it complete fiction— and an archery contest in the park. This year, with Anna and Harper’s help, Nikki is hosting a dinner the night before for a few of us at the bakery.
“Six,” I answer, then narrow my eyes. “Why? Got plans for tomorrow afternoon?”
His grin turns wicked. “Maybe. They might involve you, me, and very little clothing.”
Heat floods my cheeks, and lower, much lower. “Sheriff Caldwell, are you propositioning me?”
“Absolutely.” His lips brush my ear. “I'm thinking we start in the shower, then we can explore the kitchen counter, and if we still have energy, we can christen that new armchair in your reading nook. It looks pretty comfortable.”
I tilt my head instinctively, giving him better access as his lips trail down to the curve of my neck, leaving little sizzling sparks in their wake.
My fingers clutch at his shirt, sliding beneath the fabric, hungry for the warmth of his skin.
Images flash through my mind of all the places we've already made love in this house and the few we haven't yet. “You've given this some thought.”
“I've given you a lot of thought,” he admits, his voice dropping to that low gruffness that never fails to make my knees weak. “Pretty much constantly since I came back to town.”
I press closer, feeling the hard length of him against my stomach. “Show me,” I whisper.
In one fluid motion, Luke scoops me up, his strong hands gripping my ass, and I gasp, laughter spilling out as my legs wrap tightly around his waist. He sets me on the kitchen island, nudges my knees apart, and steps between them, pressing close until his hard length grinds against my core.
I’m pretty certain the thin fabric of my dress won’t withstand the friction.
His mouth claims mine in a kiss that’s full of promise, his tongue sliding against mine in a dance that has my body aching for more.
Everything else—my tea, his coffee, the book, hell, the rest of the world—falls away as I lose myself in the sensation of his lips, his hands, and his body pressing along mine.
“God, Callie,” he murmurs against my mouth, his voice a low, sexy rumble. “You feel so fucking good.”
I inch forward, grinding against him, my breath hitching as his length hits just the right spot. “Oh, yes, right there,” I manage to say before I bite my lip.
He smiles against my mouth, his hands sliding up to tangle in my hair.
He pulls gently, tilting my head back so he can trail kisses down my neck, his stubble scratching against my sensitive skin.
I gasp as he sucks gently on one spot where my pulse is racing, his hands sliding back down to grip my ass again.
“Bed,” I manage to say, my voice barely recognizable. “Now.”
He chuckles, low and sexy, and carries me to the bedroom, his mouth never leaving my skin. One minute I’m in his arms, the next I’m airborne as he tosses me onto the bed, where I bounce lightly, laughter spilling out of me as he strips off his shirt, revealing the muscles I've been dying to touch.
Sitting up, I yank my dress over my head and toss it aside. My bra quickly follows. When I reach for him, he comes to me, sliding his hands up my thighs to grip the edges of my practical underwear and jerk them down my legs to join the rest of my clothing somewhere on the floor.
His eyes darken as he takes in my bare breasts before he leans down, capturing one nipple in his mouth.
Gasping, my head falls back as he sucks and licks, his hands roaming over my body.
Impatient, I reach for his belt, fumbling with the buckle in my haste to get his pants off.
This, of course, makes him laugh, but he offers his assistance, and soon he's standing before me, naked and gorgeous.
His cock is thick and long and so ready.
I take him in my hand, stroking gently, and he groans, his head falling back. “Fuck, Callie,” he says again, his voice strained.
Feeling powerful, I bend lower him for a taste.
He groans, his hands tangling in my hair as I work him with my tongue and lips. But he doesn't let me play for long. Far too soon for my liking, he pulls me up, kisses me hard, and pushes me back onto the bed before crawling over me, lining up and driving deep inside of me in one smooth motion.
Oh Lord, that feels good. I wrap my legs around him, urging him on, shamelessly whimpering as I beg him to go faster. Harder.
We move together, our bodies finding that perfect rhythm, the right blend of pleasurable torture while racing to the finishing line.
When his mouth finds mine again, teasing and driving me wild, I cup his face, kissing him for all I’m worth, trying to tell him, without words, how much he means to me.
My orgasm is building, my body tightening around him, quivering, waiting for the explosion.
“Come with me, Callie. Come with me, baby.”
I do. I fall over the edge, my body convulsing around him, my nails digging into his back as wave after wave of bliss crash over me.
Luke quickly follows after pounding into me roughly before he cries out, and his body shudders through an extended release.
Much later, we lie tangled in my sheets, my head in the curve of his shoulder, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my bare back.
The room is quiet, except for our breathing, which has finally slowed to normal.
Outside, night has fully settled in, and moonlight spills through the blinds in silver ribbons across the bed.
There’s this certainty that's been growing inside me since he rolled back into town. Perhaps it never really left; it just went dormant all those years we were apart. And now it's bloomed again, stronger than before.
“Luke?” I murmur, sleepy and sated.
“Hmm?”
“Thank you. For the book, for everything.”
He shifts his head to peer down at me, his expression open in a way it rarely is with others. “You're welcome.”
I prop myself up on one elbow to gaze at him, taking in the strong lines of his face, softened now in the dim light of my bedroom. With the tip of my finger, I draw circles around one of his nipples, gathering my courage. “I'm happy you came back to Cupid's Creek.”
His eyes meet mine, serious, caring, and full of an emotion I hope matches mine. “Me too.”
I feel the words rising in my throat, the ones I've been holding back. The ones that terrify me because of everything they mean. “I...” For a second, I'm that seventeen-year-old girl again, afraid of how much I feel for him.
He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering on my cheek. “It's okay,” he says softly. “You don't have to say anything.”
But I want to. After all the pretending, I need to say what I never said back then.
“I love you, Luke.” The words come out in a rush.
His eyes widen slightly, and for one heart-stopping moment, I wonder if I've misread everything.
Then the most heart-stopping, panty-melting smirk forms on his lips.
His eyes shine in the darkened room. “I love you, Callie.
I've loved you for as long as I can remember.
And I don't think I could ever love anybody as much as I do you.”
Somehow, against all odds, after years apart and weeks of pretending, we've found our way to something real. I can't help but think about Anne Shirley and how she believed in kindred spirits because, for the first time in a very long time, I feel like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.