24. Berg
Chapter twenty-four
Berg
T here’s no denying the magnetism that seems to flow between Caro and I. Having her at the table with all my best friends only solidified how I feel about her. She let me pour my heart out in the truck. Let me lay my hand on her leg, breath quickening as she listened. Now there's electricity in the air that has nothing to do with the storm sweeping across the island. With the windshield wipers on full speed, I pull onto our street. Small branches litter the road ahead, and I tap the brakes as someone’s blue recycling bin tumbles across the street.
“This is going to be a mess tomorrow,” I say, turning off the radio as I park.
Caro unbuckles and glances back. “I think they’re asleep.”
“Of course they are. Would they have ever stopped talking for that long if they were awake?” I joke .
She laughs softly. “Good point. You get Natalie, I’ll get Lou.”
Here we go. Another example of how Caro goes above and beyond to help. How she’s devoted to making sure my daughters are cared for. And because my children are an extension of myself, every time she does something to make their lives better, that love and attention stretches out to reach me as well. I feel it square in my chest whenever she answers their questions patiently, hugs them extra tight, and sneaks them a cookie when she thinks I’m not looking.
As I round the cab of the truck with Natalie’s legs wrapped round my torso, there’s a biting crunch beneath my boot. Shards of glass shimmer as I follow their path right to Caro’s broken window and the inside out patio umbrella beneath it.
“For fuck’s sake,” I breathe, stepping over the rest of the glass and hurrying up the steps after Caro.
What if I hadn’t invited her out tonight and she’d been inside when that happened? The idea makes me mad, and it didn’t even happen.
We ditch the girls' shoes and coats at the door, soothing them when they stir. After they’re tucked in bed and we creep out of their room, I go into damage control mode.
“What are you doing?” Caro asks as I head to the kitchen and rummage around in the junk drawer.
“Remember when you didn’t have a door for a few hours?” I ask, reaching deep into a drawer.
“How could I forget? ”
I find the headlamp and pull it over my head. “Well, now you don’t have a window.”
“Come again?”
I wave my hand so she’ll follow, and lead the way to her door, sticking my arm out against her torso when she almost walks into the mess of glass.
She gasps, covering her mouth with both hands when she sees the damage.
“My stuff!” she cries, and I put my arm around her for a quick squeeze.
“I know. I’m going to get some plastic up. I think I have some in the garage. It shouldn’t be too bad, the umbrella didn’t make it inside. I don’t want you out here. Go move things away from the window and pack a bag for the night.”
“A what?”
“An overnight bag. You don’t have a goddamn window, Caro. Go.” I give her a gentle shove. “Be careful of glass!” I yell after her before heading to the garage.
I find her in her room a few minutes later, trying to sop up a puddle of water beneath the broken window.
“My bedspread is damp.”
“I figured as much. Do you have your stuff?”
“I don’t really need much,” she says, a bit of sadness in her voice as she looks back at her bedroom. The lamp from beside her bed is smashed and there’s a pile of ruined books on the floor .
“Good thing I know a handyman.” Caro slips her hand into mine as we walk back upstairs, and I can’t bring myself not to weave my fingers between hers.
“This weather is crazy,” she says, cheeks pink and hair wind whipped while we take off our shoes.
We’re soaking wet, water dripping down the nape of my neck and rolling down my spine. The overhead head light blinks once, twice, and then we’re cast into darkness. The house feels eerily quiet without the almost imperceptible hum of appliances running.
“At least the girls are asleep,” she says, her voice sounding like she’s moved closer.
I inhale sharply when she places her icy hands at the collar of my jacket and slips them inside.
“You’re freezing,” I say.
I can smell her, feel her, and I’d give anything to see the way she’s looking up at me. I’d bet there’s tenderness and trouble blended together in those blue eyes. She tugs at the wet fabric and I shrug my shoulders to help her slide it down my arms. It falls to the foyer floor, leaving me in my t-shirt, and it’s not lost on me that this is the same spot we had that first accidental but oh-so-perfect kiss. With shaking hands, I return the favour, helping her remove her jacket so it joins mine.
“Berg?” she asks, her voice only a yearning whisper. “Kiss me properly. Kiss me on purpose.”
I can’t see a fucking thing, but I find Caro by instinct. My fingers sink into the soft curves on either side of her waist as I tug her flush against my body. I’d never leave this woman wanting, so I dip my head and seek her lips. She whimpers as our mouths meet. Caro clings to the cotton of my shirt, letting me shore her up. The gasp that she makes when I purposely apply pressure to her lower back so she can feel my hardened cock is enough to make me forget all the reasons I’ve been keeping my distance. The parting of her lips lets me swipe my tongue against hers and I cannot resist grinding against her tummy at the sensation of her slick mouth.
“I can make up the couch for you.”
“I’m not sleeping on the damn couch.”
“I can take it then,” I offer.
“You’re not sleeping on the damn couch, either.”
Caro sounds like she knows exactly what she wants. Lucky for her, I do too. Every excuse I’ve been clinging to for dear life falls away as I make my choice.
I adjust my grip to cup her ass and lift her against me. “Let’s go to bed.”
She squeaks in surprise. “Okay!” I take the opportunity to fill my palms with her round ass and squeeze, grinning when she squeaks again. “This is happening!”
I hush her with my mouth as she wraps her legs around my hips.
She clings to me as I steer us left toward my bedroom. “It’s pitch black! Don’t drop me.”
I shut the door behind us, locking it just in case.
“As if, Caro,” I say against her throat. “I won’t drop you… ”
When I feel my knees brush my mattress, I let go, letting her bounce to the bed. “Far,” I finish.
“You dick,” she teases.
Her beautiful laughter fades as I peel off my shirt and climb over her.
“Hi,” she whispers, skating her fingers up my stomach.
My core clenches at the ticklish sensation.
Caro is only a shadow in the centre of the plush white bedding, and as fun as it is to be robbed of one of our most powerful senses, I need to see more of her. All of her.
“Where are you going?”
“We need some light.”
On my bathroom counter is a candle I sometimes burn after a long day. The matches shake in their box as I pull one out, lighting it with a quick flick of my wrist. The wick catches the flame and a dancing orange glow spreads across the walls. Cupping my hand around the jar, I return to the bedroom and set the candle on my dresser with a gentle thud.
“Come back,” she says, and when I turn to find her laying back against my pillows, my heart feels like it runs over a speed bump.
She’s stripped her top and bra off, so we’re in equal states of undress. Candlelight dances across her bare stomach and breasts as I stride toward the bed, a hand already on my belt buckle. Caro is in my bed, the door is locked, and we’ve got all night.
“I wanted to undress you,” I tell her as the mattress sinks beneath my knees .
“Plenty left for you to do.”
I swear she pushes her chest out a bit as I finish working the leather from my belt buckle, leaving the two ends hanging open.
“I’ll get to it,” I tell her, “I’m distracted right now.”
Caro moans the moment I lift her perfect, heavy breasts in my palms, dark pink nipples peeking out between my fingers.
“Fucking pretty,” I swear, squeezing her soft flesh as hard as I dare.
I dip to reach the tips of her hardening nipples, licking one right through my splayed hands. Her breath quickens, pebbled skin frigid from her wet clothing. I glide my hands up and down her arms to warm her as she squirms beneath me, her thigh grazing against my erection every so often. My hips move of their own accord, desperate to grind against her heat.
But what if I’m squishing her? Last time we fooled around, she was on top. I’m suddenly hyper aware of all the places my stomach is touching hers.
“Sorry.” I shift my weight off to the side so I’m resting on my left hip. “I’m too heavy to be on you like that.”
She hums her disagreement, wiggling closer to remove the space I created. “Don’t think so. I like all the soft parts of you.”
Her hands skim through the hair on my chest and down my stomach to play at my jeans’ button.
The crisp snick of my zipper is loud in the quiet room.
“They complement the hard parts so well.”
The breath goes out of my lungs when she reaches lower, wraps her hand around my cock over the thin material of my boxer briefs, and grips me. “Don’t you think?”