Chapter 12 #2
Caleb noticed her gaze on the dance floor. “Wanna get a few steps in before they bring our food?”
The song ended, and they had a brief reprieve before they had to start yelling at each other again. “You dance?”
He smiled but it faded quickly. “Yeah. I discovered it was a good way not to, uh…go home alone.”
“Oh.” She patted his thigh. “I doubt you needed dancing for that.”
“When I didn’t have much at home, it helped to keep them running away in fear. No one wants to fall for the guy with no money.”
“Then I guess you weren’t bringing the right women home.”
His solemn expression didn’t change. “I knew I wasn’t.”
This man.
Another song started, the male lead crooning the first few lines a cappella. Caleb grabbed her hand and helped her out of the booth.
Dancing with him was…foreplay. His strong arms were around her, leading her left and right, maneuvering her where he wanted. She submitted to him, giggling when they bumped feet or when she tried to take over without knowing. His smile only widened as he spun her faster and held her closer.
His gaze strayed to where they’d been sitting. “We should go eat.”
“Sure,” she said with breathlessness that had nothing to do with the movement. Her body tingled from head to toe, her breasts were heavy, and she had an exquisite ache between her legs.
His gaze heated, promising all sorts of wicked things when they returned to the hotel room. “Then more dancing?”
“Absolutely.”
The elevator doors opened, and it was all Caleb could do not to tumble out.
He hadn’t had more than one drink, but he was tipsy with lust. Holding Brigit half the night, witnessing the way her fully clothed body moved and writhed, the smile on her face, and those moments when she bit her lower lip as she concentrated on the steps—they were intoxicating.
He secured her to his side and managed not to run to their room. His erection would’ve made that difficult anyway. His arm was around her shoulders with her shopping bags in the other hand. They moved in sync to the room door, both on the same page.
Dancing had always been a means to an end. A little two-step. A twirl here and there. It cut out the awkward chitchat and he could tell if his partner was receptive to more. But tonight…
He and Brigit had laughed, they’d slow-stepped like they were back at the middle school dance, and she’d let herself go. She’d trusted him enough to let herself go.
It was enough to take the sting out of keeping quiet while she passed all the trendy joints and settled on a bar and grill that could just as well be in Moore. Only they hadn’t known anyone.
But he wasn’t going to dig into her actions now. He just wanted her.
It took three swipes before their lock registered the key card. They stumbled in, the door slamming behind him. She let her coat slide to the floor and he did the same. Next, they each kicked their wet boots to the side.
Then he yanked her to him and planted his mouth on hers, too impatient to take the few steps to the bed. Fortunately, the outfit she’d tortured him in all night would be easy to get out of the way.
“I need you, now.” He turned her around and her hands gripped the floor-length mirror.
She looked at her reflection and then at him. “Maybe we should…”
He crowded behind her and caught her gaze in the mirror.
“No, we’re not moving.” Holding her attention, he yanked up her sweater and pulled down her leggings.
He palmed the creamy flesh of her ass. “You can watch me fuck you.” Proving at the same time that her height was perfect.
She was perfect. That they fit perfectly.
Her lips parted, and she ground back into him. She probably didn’t even realize the strength of her response. He didn’t either. The mirror hadn’t been planned, but he had a sudden need to make his mark, to take her in a way that she’d never forget.
Maybe in a way that she’d never be able to walk away from.
He’d always been a wishful thinker.
With one hand, he opened his pants and shoved all the material out of the way. With his other hand, he took care of protection. His shaft was hard and throbbing, and he stood so close to Brigit that her heat both soothed the ache and dumped fuel on the flame of his need.
Her sweater was bunched around her waist, but he left it. Feathering his hand around her hip, over the soft velvet of her skin, he dove his fingers between her folds. Her hot, wet flesh welcomed him, and she widened her stance to give him better access.
Licking along the rim of her ear, he circled her clit at the same time.
She moaned, but there was one problem.
“Open your eyes, Brigit.”
Her eyelids fluttered open, the blue barely visible around her pupils. She was close, her body tight. But he wanted to be inside of her when she came.
Moving enough to slip himself between her legs, he dragged his cock through her seam, coating himself. He did it again.
A low groan eked out of him. “Fuck, Brigit. I could come just like this.”
She was rocking against his hand, her lip pinned between her teeth, her breath clouding the mirror. Gripping her hip with his free hand, he pulled her back, bending her slightly.
He kissed under her ear and held her as she shivered and ground into his hand. “Watch me.”
She met his gaze. He pushed into her slowly, watching her expression change as he filled her. From pleasure to bliss. And when he moved, thrusting slowly, to ecstasy.
He barely moved, keeping his arm around her to stroke her clit.
“Caleb.” A cloud of condensation gathered on the glass. She writhed against him, oblivious of her reflection, uncaring of what she revealed to him. The way her desire played across her face, flushing her cheeks, was the most erotic show he’d ever seen.
He only hoped to last long enough to climax with her. “Come with me, Bridge.”
A whine came from her and she tightened around him, going so molten he was shoving over his peak and growling her name as his body went rigid.
“Caleb!” She clenched his shaft so tightly he could barely move. It was too much. Too much sensation. Too much emotion. Too much—but never enough.
He loved how she said his name when she came. He loved when they orgasmed together. He loved her—he had forever.
She trembled in his arms as he buried his head in her nape and tried to catch his breath and keep them both up.
When she quieted, he withdrew and kicked his pants off the rest of the way.
He squatted and helped her out of her leggings, then rose and stripped her top off.
Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her to the bed, setting her feet down only so he could whip the covers back. She dragged him in with her.
He circled his arms around her and covered them up. “I need a few minutes, then I have more planned.”
“Mm. I do have to sleep too.” She yawned and snuggled closer. “And pack so we can leave right after the interview.”
She wanted to leave after the interview? Her interview was at eleven. It’d take an hour, tops.
“No more plans for the city after your interview?” he asked.
“Not really. I shouldn’t spend any more money I might need for moving, and I don’t want to risk you being late for work. There’s more snow coming. We can’t afford to be stranded.”
It sounded logical. Her words made sense.
But the disappointment cascading through him was anything but.
First the bar and grill, and now she didn’t want to spend any more time with him in the big city.
This was their first opportunity to travel together, get away from everything, and have some time to themselves.
For him, it’d been a time to ponder his life.
Where was he going? Or rather, where could he go?
He loved his ranch. It meant the world to him.
But if keeping it meant he’d live a long life alone, it wasn’t exactly serving the purpose Grandma and Grandpa had bought it for.
They’d worked the land so they could build a family, and while it hadn’t been the brood of kids they’d hoped for, they’d raised Mom and him.
But Brigit wanted to go home. Was it because that was where she thought he belonged? They wouldn’t be here for her big interview if Moore was where she thought she belonged.