40. 40
Ididn’t have to wait long to have the “what are we” talk with Callum.
The morning after the Chateau Desire matching, the villa was quiet, everyone exhausted. The window of freedom we’d been given the night before, uninterrupted by producers, was short-lived. We were all back on the reality television hamster wheel bright and early.
I was standing in the outdoor kitchen, sipping my coffee and willing it to wake up my slowly moving brain when Callum walked in. He smiled at me, slow and sweet, and nodded to the pantry before walking into it and closing its door.
I looked around, making sure the rest of the cast was occupied elsewhere, set my cup down and followed right after him.
“Hey,” I said, once I closed the door behind me.
Callum smiled and reached behind me, switching off my mic pack. It was the same exact scene as all those weeks before: us, in the pantry, having a clandestine conversation. Only this time I didn’t want it to end.
Once our mics were off, Callum leaned into me. He kept his voice low even though he was only an inch away.
“I thought we should talk,” he said.
My stomach sank. Anything that came after “we should talk”, in a romantic sense, was usually not good.
“Oh?” was all I could manage to reply.
What if he was about to tell me that last night was a mistake? That the kissing was fun and all, but we needed to remember it was just for the show?
I was having a hard time focusing as a million what ifs ran through my mind.
Callum must have picked up on the way my eyes were glazing over. “Are you alright?”
“What? Yeah. Yes. Of course.” I took a step back from him. If he was going to say anything about the deal or being just friends, I would handle it. I just couldn't be so close to him while he did so.
“Poppy,” he said. Maybe he could tell I was starting to spiral.
“Callum,” I shot back, doing my best to keep it together.
“Relax, it’s a good talk.”
“A good—”
“I like you.”
Oh.
“You like me?”
“I do.”
When Callum was in the other villa during Chateau Desire, I had imagined this moment, this conversation, in my head a million times; what I would say, how I would confess my feelings in a romantic yet witty and well-crafted way.
That was all for naught. Because when it was actually happening, all I could manage to reply was, “Oh.”
Callum wasn’t fazed by my lack of brain activity.
“Yes, oh,” he said. “I like you and I’m pretty sure you like me, and I think we should give this a go. For real, not just for the show. Well, also for the show since we've already come this far, but for real as well.”
Everything slowed down, time and space contracting, as it hit me what he was saying: He liked me. He like liked me.
The relief was so overwhelming that all I could do was throw my arms around his neck and press my lips to his.
I could feel him smile as I kissed him, feel the vibration of his laugh as he pressed his own lips back onto mine.
When we pulled away, we were both grinning like idiots.
“So, I’m guessing you feel the same?” he asked, laughing at my lack of response.
“Ah! Yes!” I said, keeping my arms looped around his neck. “I like you too.”
“Well, that’s good to hear.”
He kissed me again and we proceeded to make out until the pantry door was pulled open.
“Found them,” Ella called out from the other side. She was grinning from ear to ear. I guess someone noticed we had gone missing.
We shuffled out of the pantry, and I blushed furiously, both over being caught and because I couldn’t quite believe that Callum and I were together, for real. That we were actually giving it a go.
As we both got scolded by producers for turning off our mics, and as the day went on and we went round and round the garden again and again, still discussing the events of Chateau Desire, I couldn’t get that faint blush of excitement off my face.
***
The rest of the week passed in a haze of sun and stolen kisses. Lots and lots of kisses. Once Callum and I were together, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.
The show, which had once been a fun pseudo-vacation from reality, had become my very own temptation island.
I couldn’t get enough of Callum and from the way his hands always managed to find themselves on or near my butt, I knew he felt the same about me.
It was like we had been stumbling around in the cold for the last month and now a match had been lit and everything was on fire.
The burn had never felt so good.
For the most part, the producers were thrilled we were suddenly so physical with each other. “Spice sells,” was what Harry had let me know one evening after Callum and I had spent the majority of the cocktail party making out on the daybeds.
That spice, the spark we had that was suddenly undeniable, was only ever an issue for production at one time: night. More specifically, nighttime in our shared bed. Our very small, double bed.
Part of the original briefing I received back in London before coming on the show was about UK television’s standards and practices.
I had been surprised to learn that while the Brits were relaxed about swearing on air, they had the complete opposite stance when it came to sex.
We could drop all the F-bombs we wanted, but the moment things got remotely sexual, well, you’d better be good at keeping it hidden.
It was a rule that had vexed others over the last few weeks but had never bothered me because there was no one I wanted to be getting physical with.
Oh, how that had all changed.
Since Callum and I made things as official as they came in the villa, it had been an effort in restraint not to have sex.
Especially when you added in the summer’s heat and the fact that he spent most of his time shirtless, his broad shoulders and defined abs on display from sunup to sundown.
I was so worked up by the end of each day, I wanted to cry some nights.
Instead, I’d kiss him goodnight and roll over, trying to put as much distance between us as possible so as not to lose my mind.
Callum and his roaming hands didn’t help the matter. He was always dragging them across my body in some way. A touch there, a caress here. It wound me up so much that by the third night of our being together I couldn’t take it anymore.
“You need to stop touching me all the time,” I whispered as I fluffed up my pillow and tried to get comfortable. I was lying on my side, facing him, but had left a wide gap of space between us.
“Oh, do I?” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at me.
“Yes, you do. I . . . ” I trailed off. I wasn’t sure exactly how to finish that sentence. The thought of expressing to him just how much I physically needed him had me retreating inward. It was too intense, too embarrassing to willingly bear that part of myself to him.
So instead of telling him that I was so horned up I wanted to cry, I simply said “yes” again and buried my head into my pillow.
I could hear Callum softly chuckle next to me. Instead of doing as I had so kindly, in my opinion, asked, he did the exact opposite. He wiggled closer and draped his arm across me, rubbing my back up and down in soothing motions.
“What's wrong?” he whispered. I could feel his warm breath on the top of my head.
I peeked up at him. It was either tell him and get it over with or try and fall asleep with another case of blue vajayjay.
I must have really been in deep because instead of listening to the small, insecure voice in my head shouting at me to close my eyes and go to sleep, I looked up at Callum and whispered the truth.
“I’m really horny,” I said.
As soon as the words left my mouth, and I realized that I had actually said it out loud, I turned my face back into the pillow and buried it even farther.
This place will be the death of me.
Callum, to his credit, didn’t balk. He didn’t laugh or dismiss me out right. The only sign that I said anything remotely out of pocket was his hand stilling on my back for a fraction of a second before continuing its movement. It was as if I hadn’t said anything at all.
I was about to roll over and try to forget this whole moment ever happened when I felt his hand drift lower down my back and around to my stomach.
I stilled. It felt like I was vibrating with raw desire, and I was so afraid that he would move his hand away, that he would stop its slow descent, that I didn’t move a muscle. Not even as he leaned down to whisper in my ear, ever so softly, “I think I can help you out with that.”
I almost came then and there, his words flooding through me and his lips grazing the shell of my ear.
I wanted to ask him what he was going to do but as I turned to do so his hand swooped lower, grazing the band of my sleep shorts.
I froze again but this time peeked up at him.
He was grinning like an idiot. It was so hot.
“Just tap my hand when you’re about to finish,” he said.
I didn't have time to question him or say anything else because he quickly—so quickly I was wondering how he did it—slid his hand down my pants.
He kept going, getting closer to my sweet spot, his fingers on a slow, torturous descent. I was squirming so badly I had to clutch the sheets between my hands to steady myself.
The anticipation of what would happen next nearly sent me over the edge. Then, Callum’s fingers found my clit and the world around me shifted into hyperdrive.
Oh, he was good.
His fingers circled around, applying pressure.
I felt suddenly insatiable; like I would never be able to get enough of his touch.
My hands continued to grip the sheet below me, and I kept my head pressed into the pillow, afraid that if I moved, I would make a noise I definitely would not want broadcast on national television.
Callum moved his body closer to mine, covering me so that to anyone else, to the cameras recording our every move, it would simply look like we were cuddling.
The reality of what was happening under the covers was decidedly less sweet. I pressed farther into him, indicating that I wanted more. That I needed more.
So more he gave. He slipped two of his fingers inside of me while his thumb pressed against my clit, pumping in and out while rubbing me at the same time.
It didn’t take long for the fire that had been building in my stomach to reach a full-blown inferno. I tapped Callum’s arm, letting him know I was about to finish.
He, in return, rubbed me even harder, faster, until I was seeing stars. Until my back was arching up and into him, and I was coming on his fingers, grasping at him while trying to keep my head pressed into the pillow to cover the sound of my moans.
I was vaguely aware of Callum having a coughing fit above me. Coming back down to earth, I turned to look at him.
As if on cue, he stopped coughing.
“I wasn’t sure how loud you would be,” he whispered, grinning down at me.
Something about him getting me off, about him covering for me as I had a mind-blowing orgasm, about the way he was looking at me now, made my heart squeeze.
“Thanks for that,” I whispered.
I wasn’t sure what to do next but was saved by Callum deciding for me. He turned me over, pulling my back in close against his chest and threw his arm around me, tucking me into him.
He kissed the back of my head and whispered into my hair, “Goodnight.”
I sighed, settling into him.
I fell asleep grinning ear to ear.