Chapter 74 Astrid
ASTRID
“Your place or mine?” Callan asks as we race toward his house.
“Would mine be okay?”
“Of course.” He pulls me to a stop, pushing me up against a tree. “Just so you know, the only female who has slept in my bed is my daughter.”
“How did you know I was thinking that?”
“I know you, beautiful.” He leans in, caging me between his arms, and kisses me.
I groan as fresh need dampens my panties and hardens my nipples. “Changed my mind,” I purr against his lips. “Your bed. It’s closer.”
I squeal when Callan throws me over his shoulder and takes off running for the door. “You’re crazy,” I say in between laughing.
“Crazy about you.”
He puts me down to open the door, and then we rush upstairs, stopping to steal more kisses, and my heart is so light it feels like it could float away.
“I love you,” he says, pulling me into his bedroom. It’s a beautiful space, but I don’t take time to examine it because Callan has my full attention when he yanks his tee off before kicking the door closed.
“Fuck me.” His chest and stomach are still ripped, and I’m eating him up with my eyes.
“It would be my pleasure.” He reels me into his arms and claims my lips. “I’m insane with lust for you, baby, but I want to take this slow. I want to savor every touch, every lick, every bite, every thrust.”
“I’ll take you any way I can get you. I already know it will rock my world.”
“Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours, Callan. I’m all yours.”
Resting his forehead against mine, he grips my hips and stares into my eyes. “I will love you until the end of time, Astrid. That’s my new promise to you, and nothing or no one is coming between us again.”
“Forever, Callan.” I fling my arms around him and shut my eyes, committing the feel of his warm body against mine to my memory bank. “A new memory for our collection,” I whisper in his ear.
He takes my hand and leads me to his giant bed, carefully laying me down on it before joining me. “I never thought we’d have this again.” The tip of his finger traces along my collarbone. “I thought I’d lost you forever.”
“No more looking back.” I trail my fingers up and down the ink on his arm. “We only look forward.”
When his lips descend, I melt into the bed, and every beat of my heart is centered on the press of his mouth, the glide of his tongue, and the feel of his familiar weight hovering over me.
We take our time undressing one another, kissing and trading “I love yous” while we shed our clothes and the final barrier between us.
Callan stares deep into my eyes as he sinks inside me, and it’s the most intimate moment of my life. “I love you, Astrid Nevan.”
“I love you, Callan Hunt.”
No more words are spoken as we lose ourselves in one another. Each deep thrust repairs a broken part inside me. Each loving touch papers over any lingering cracks in my heart. My body arches and bends, ebbing and flowing against his as we move in perfect synchronization.
Sitting back, he pulls me onto his lap, and we move together in a slow, sensual dance while he alternates between kissing my lips and kissing my breasts.
Our gazes remain connected as he moves his hand between our bodies, his fingers circling my clit, rubbing me perfectly as I crest a natural high. Callan brings us back down to the bed, kissing me everywhere as I arch my hips and tighten my legs around his waist.
The explosion rocks us both as we fall over the ledge together, and I hug him close as he continues thrusting until we’re both sated.
He drops down onto the bed, curling my body around his, while clinging to my sweat-slickened skin and remaining inside me.
The need to maintain the connection is intense, and I never want him to pull out.
My arms snake around his warm flesh, and I hold him against me as he buries his face in my neck.
I dot kisses into his hair, whispering how much I love him.
A loud sob rips through the air as he shudders and shakes in my arms. Tears roll down my face as I hold him while he breaks down, trying to hug him harder, to suffocate him with my love so he knows I am never leaving.
I don’t offer platitudes that would feel empty.
I just hold him and kiss him, hoping he feels the depth of my love.
“Sorry,” he says, his voice brittle and scratched when he finally stops crying. Easing back a little, he drops his head onto a pillow, and I do the same on the adjoining one.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” I swipe at the moisture under his eyes.
“Sex hasn’t been enjoyable for me for years, and that was everything I hoped it would be and more. Making love to you was always incredible, and I feared it might never be like that again. That it might be something else she took from us.”
“We don’t speak about her in our bedroom,” I softly say, sweeping hair out of his eyes. “She has no place here.”
He nods, taking my hand and kissing my fingers.
“That was beautiful,” I admit. “The most intimate experience of my life. I hope you could feel how much I love you because, honestly, there are no words in existence to describe how much you mean to me.”
“I felt it. It felt like you were touching my soul.” A radiant smile appears on his face as he belts out a laugh. “Fuck. I’m turning into a sap again.” I quirk a brow, and he brushes his lips against mine. “Just something Travis and I talked about a while back.”
“You’re not a sap.” I trail my fingers over his shoulder and down his arm. “You’re the most romantic man on the planet, and I’m the luckiest woman because I get to call you mine.”
We spend all day and night in bed on Saturday, reacquainting ourselves with one another in all manner of carnal ways.
We eat takeout in bed and watch a movie, talking and laughing, but we’re both avoiding the one subject we need to discuss.
I’m thinking of how to broach the subject on Sunday morning as I’m rinsing dishes, at the sink, when Callan sneaks up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on top of my head. “I could get used to this.”
I tilt my head back for a kiss, and he indulges me.
“I love you.” He whispers the words across my lips after he breaks our lip-lock.
Spinning around in his arms, I place my hands on his shoulders. “I love you too. So, so much, but we need to talk.”
Alarm widens his eyes.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, hoping it’s the truth, but the reality is I don’t know what the future holds, and we’re both carrying so much emotional baggage. “Let’s take our coffees and sit out on the patio.”
He’s quiet as we fix our drinks, walk outside, and settle beside one another on one of the couches.
I turn to face him, nursing my coffee mug in my hands. “We need to talk about Darcy and us and where we go from here.”
“I know.” He clears his throat. “Tell me where your head is at.”
“Spending this time with you has been magical. But—”
“You promised it wouldn’t be a one-time thing. You—”
“Callan.” I set my mug down on the coffee table. “It’s not a one-time thing. I meant what I said. You’re my forever. You always have been; it’s just I think maybe we should’ve discussed your daughter before we tumbled into bed.”
His face falls, and witnessing his vulnerability is hard. “You regret it?”
“Absolutely not.” I brush my lips against his. “I love you, and there’s no going back, but I think we should take this slow, and I don’t think we should be together around Darcy.”
“Because you’re not sure if you can accept her.” He puts his coffee down.
“Because this is new and we still have so much baggage to wade through. We haven’t even started counseling yet. Darcy is the priority. The things we do impact her, and yes, I’m still struggling to get past Gwen. I’m sorry,” I add in a whisper when I see the pain on his face.
“Don’t be sorry. I know you’re not doing it on purpose. You can’t help how you feel, and remember I had similar thoughts before she was born, but she’s amazing, Astrid, and nothing like that bitch that spawned her.”
I take his hands in mine. “I know, Callan. She’s a very special little girl, and she makes it easy to love her.
The issue is all me.” I hate having to tell him this, but we don’t stand a chance at a future together if we’re not brutally honest with one another.
“I hate Gwen gave you something I haven’t.
Darcy is a part of you and a part of her, and it hurts, Callan.
It hurts a lot, especially knowing how she came to be.
I try to look at her as a sweet, little mini version of you, and some days it’s easy because she looks so much like you, she sounds like you, she shares your sense of humor and your love of sports and the outdoors.
She’s thriving under your love. She’s thoughtful and kind and caring of others, the exact opposite of her mother. ”
Tears stab my eyes. “You have done such an amazing job with her. Watching you two together these past weeks has been heartwarming. Seeing you braid her hair, coloring with her, helping her with her homework, playing football with her, carrying her on your shoulders when we go hiking, tickling her, and making her squeal with laughter is beautiful.”
I pause to draw a breath. “Watching Frozen patiently for the hundredth time, eating the pastries she baked—when there’s more pastry than fruit—and telling her it’s the best thing you’ve ever eaten, and so many more examples I could give.
Honestly, it’s incredible. You’re an incredible father to that little girl, and you did it when you were dealing with PTSD, grieving so much loss, and fearing for the lives of your loved ones.
You are so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. ”
“Like you said, she makes it easy to love her. And I’ve had lots of help.”
“You still did the heavy lifting, and I am in awe of you. Watching you as a father only makes me love you even more.”
“But it’s not enough.”