Chapter 14
Fourteen
CALLUM
E vie’s been in the bathroom for almost half an hour. The tiny guest room above the café is opposite Iris’s room. Her light went out ten minutes ago. Down to my briefs and T-shirt, I lie in the full-sized bed that’s more like a single. If Iris had a sofa, I’d be on it.
She doesn’t, and I’m not.
The kindest move I can make now is to roll over and feign sleep.
May as well tell me to stop fucking breathing.
Just the thought of Evie sliding under this damn sheet in the tiniest bed known to man has me rock hard. I roll over, hoping if she ever comes out of the goddamn bathroom I don’t make a fool of myself with a raging hard-on for a woman I won’t have.
Can’t.
And there is no pillow wall or big king size here.
Light footsteps finally close in on the opposite side of the room and I swear she is muttering something under her breath.
She reaches the bed, only to pace to the window.
Iris’s pajamas on her are baggy, and the sleeve of the wide neckline has slipped off one shoulder already.
The T-shirt is more like a tank, and she is tugging it down as she looks out the window and over the harbor.
It’s pretty by moonlight. Nothing new to me.
Evie glances over her shoulder. Probably checking to see if I’m asleep. I tamp down a smile and wriggle to get more comfortable on my side. “You gonna sleep standing up?”
My gruff words see her turn back, her bottom lip pulled through her teeth as she worries herself over this whole situation. You and me both, girl. I don’t take on Mother Nature. Only idiots think they can outrun a storm on the water.
The thought burns brighter than I imagined it would.
“Be there in a bit,” she says softly, uncertainty lacing her words.
She turns back to the window and her hair falls over her shoulders, slipping from the rough, messy bun she had it wound up in. One elegant hand trails over her bare shoulder. My molars clench.
Closing my eyes, I think of anything else but the woman by the window.
Muttering something I can’t make out, Evie pads to the bed and climbs in under the covers. She lies still, the only sound in the room is her breathing mixing with the echo of mine. When she clears her throat and rolls over, I open my eyes and stare at the wall. Good. She should get some sleep.
We both should.
Tender fingertips press into my shoulder. “Cal?”
The way my breath hitches at that one syllable should be fucking illegal. “Yeah?” I manage to choke out as my body responds to the tiniest touch from her.
“Thank you for bringing me with you.”
This makes me roll over. “You were invited, Evie.”
Her eyes are burning as she studies my face. “I know, but...” She tucks the sheet around her like she’s shielding herself. “This is your family, your friend. I’m only passing through, aren’t I?”
Sucking in a breath, I tug at the sheet that’s now pressed up to her neck. “Why do you always do that?”
“Do what?” she breathes.
“Make yourself small. Hide. Apologize for existing.”
Her gaze turns into a tangle of fear and uncertainty. I fucking hate it. Resisting the craving to strip her bare and show her how incredible she is—that I know she is—I close a hand around her hand gripping the sheet.
And to my surprise . . . she releases it.
“Hiding is safe,” she whispers.
The hell?
“From what, Evie?” My voice is gravel.
Her eyes snap away, her palm wandering over the sheet between us in random movement. “Life. People.”
Christ.
How can I blame her for thinking that? It’s a place I’ve dwelled in for so long.
“It will get better.” It’s all I can say. Not nearly enough. The undercurrent of grief sucks you down when you least expect it. I know this. She’s shaking her head, and silver swells below those beautiful browns.
Hell.
I take her face in my palms. She leans into my hand.
A rock explodes into my throat, pulling every last speck of air from my lungs.
Oh, cailín luachmhor.
“Talk to me, Evie.”
“I can’t.” She sucks in a wobbly breath. “Back home—in the city, there’s... He—” She squeezes her eyes shut. Her chin quivers between my palms.
What is this all about? If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s scared of something. Someone is hurting her?
“Do you feel safe with me?”
She nods, my hands still cupping her cheeks.
“You are safe on the island. I will make sure you are safe. Whatever is haunting you won’t take a second breath if it ever steps foot on Fire Island. You hear me?”
“Yes,” she rasps.
It’s now I notice her chest rising and plummeting way too quick.
Her eyes are dark, her fingers now curled around my own.
Her body tipped toward my own. The sheet has slipped down further.
Her hard nipples push against the soft T-shirt fabric.
Evie’s lips part on her next inhale, and her gaze sinks to my mouth.
I sink my hands into her hair and down her neck before reality catches up with me.
My hands fall away as she must have realized the same thing. Shuffling back on the bed, she grips the pillow. A small smile eventually tips her lips upward. “Tell me about Iris and Emmett.”
The words sit between us as I try to discern her meaning.
“They’ve been friends for as long as Emmett and I have been, I guess. Nothing to tell there. He’s like her second brother.”
Evie frowns, giving me a quizzical look before rolling onto her back, her eyes searching the ceiling.
A beat later she turns her head to look at me, her hair falling over the pillow with the movement.
Heaviness sinks in my gut. My cock throbs as the last of the blood in my body leaves, heading south.
“Good night,” I rasp, hoping those brown eyes will close and save me from myself.
“It was, wasn’t it.” She flips to face me on her side and props up on her elbow. Leaning over, she dots a kiss to my cheek. “Thank you. It’s the best night I’ve had in a long time.”
That was the best night she’s had?
Fucking criminal.
I can think of about a hundred different ways I could give her a night to remember. None of them involve other people or damn clothes.
Christ.
“What?” she says with a laugh.
Fuck.
I clear my throat. “Nothing. Go to sleep, Evie.”
She frowns and rolls onto her back. “Night, Cal.”
Dammit.
This is why us staying overnight was— is —a bad idea.
I fold my arms over my chest like it will force the throbbing from my cock to return the blood to my head. Evie’s gaze is on my face; I can almost feel it slide over my skin. All warm and needy.
And damn, if that ain’t making it almost impossible to lie lifeless beside her.
She pulls the sheet up and it settles around her, sending her vanilla and spice around me.
I lie awake until her breathing quiets, and only then do I dare to look at her.
She’s stunning in the moonlight. Hair framing her face on the pillow, her elegant lines draw me in like a moth to a flame.
The curve of her lips, the fine architecture of her cheek bones and arched eyebrows.
The soft flesh of her neck that looks like a forbidden fruit.
The dip at her collarbone, the round, plump swell and peaks of her breasts. ..
Something soft pushes back into me, pressing against my cock, and it hardens instantly. I wake to a blurry brown mess in my vision.
Dark hair.
I gently brush it from my face. Evie is on her side, her back to me, her ass pushed into my groin.
She’s hunting for warmth, if the goosebumps on her skin are anything to go by.
I extricate myself from her and pad to the window and pull it down.
Plucking a throw from the chair by the door, I lay it over her and slide back into bed.
“So cold,” she murmurs, pulling the blanket up to her neck. I wriggle back to the sliver of mattress I was on when I woke. This time I wrap my arm around her and tug her into my warmth before letting my palm rest on the bed. She only wants warmth.
“Thank you,” she utters before settling again.
But I’m wide awake.
The ache in my cock is beyond comprehension with her ass pressed against me. My hands tremble with the need to touch her, to tug, grab at any fucking thing I can take.
Inhaling deep, I attempt to douse the fire that’s currently blazing its way through my body. It only serves to stoke it higher when I breathe in her vanilla and spice. I groan into her hair, sinking my face into it.
Christ above, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
Holding Evie without touching her.
Hands down, the hardest.
A little moan slips through her lips, and I almost choke on my last breath.
I slide a hand down to her hip. The tiny shorts barely cover her, but the goosebumps have retreated. That’s one thing, at least. She moves, her back arching a little as she mutters, “Too hot.”
I peel the blanket off her shoulder. Her skin is flushed now. I can’t tell if it’s the warmth of the blankets or the proximity that’s flipped her body temp so quickly. I brush her hair from her neck, hoping it’ll help. Her fine hand wraps around mine.
“Evie?”
“Please.” She drags my hand back to her hip.
I take a rough grip and squeeze. Her back arches further.
“E—” Gravel has lined my throat. “Eve . . .”
Just when I think she must be still dreaming or half asleep, her arm reaches back. Her palm cups my jaw, fingertips trembling as they brush over my beard and ghost over my lips.
Fuck me.
“You sure?” I bury my face in her hair and breathe her in.
“Yes,” she moans, canting her ass.
“Look at me.” The words are sharper than I intend.
But she turns to face me and her hands land on my chest. “I-it’s been a long time. And I can’t stop thinking about your hands on me. Like last time.”
Last time.
The time I caved in to what I wanted. The memory of the decision I made to put space back between us burns.
“It’s not a good idea. I’m not?—”
Her finger presses over my lips.
“I’m not asking for anything more. Just this.”
I study her gaze. Its fire intensifies as her hands travel up my neck. Her fingertips wander the angles of my face.
Hell, it’s been a lifetime since anything this tender found me.
I’ll break her.
I won’t be able to help it.
“How about this, you can have my hands anywhere you want. Even my mouth. But that’s all.” The last few words are harder to push out than I’d like. Her face falls a little as she nods.
“What do you get?” she whispers against my jaw.
A fleeting moment of her softness against my harsh granite. Her wrapped around me. A moment that’ll probably carry me to a place I’m going to have to claw my way out of when she leaves.
But I’ve been the selfish one too many times before. And if age and experience have taught me anything, it’s that selflessness is the only way to minimize the fallout when it happens. It always finds you. No matter how good you think you’ve made things.
Soft, warm breaths tangle with my own. “ Please , Cal.”
This fucking begging.
I’m hard as concrete.
Her hands are threaded through my hair. I drag them down by the wrists and flip her to her back, nuzzling my face into her neck before stringing kisses up her jaw.
I nudge her legs open with my knees and settle over her, my weight propped up on my hands still around her wrists.
Brown eyes stare up at me, her lips parted just the slightest, as her tongue pokes out to wet them.
My body on hers, holding her down, does something carnal to my mind. I smash my mouth to hers. With a whimper, she responds, opening for me. I dive right in, claiming every inch of her mouth, our tongues tangling. Breathlessness devours the last of my air, and I break from the kiss.
These damn clothes are coming off.
How long have I waited to see this beautiful woman naked before me? Too long.
I tug the shirt down, and the stitching tears at the shoulder. One breast overflows over the fabric.
For a moment I think she’s going to struggle free from my grip and tug the shirt back up, but she simply stares at me, waiting for my next move.
“It all goes, Evie. Everything. I want you bare.”
Her breath hitches.
I release my grip, and she sits up a little, allowing me to remove the T-shirt.
I slide it over her head and toss it to the floor.
Leaning back, I tug at those tiny shorts. They slip over her hips easily. They join the shirt on the floor, and her pale-blue panties are all that’s left between me and her. I glimpse up to find her worrying her bottom lip through her teeth.
“Loose the lip, baby girl. We’re not doing that today.”
Her lips part and her eyes intensify as she lifts her hips real slow. Keeping my eyes on hers, I slide the panties over her hips. As the lace reaches her feet, I move the panties over one foot and lift the other. With a kiss to her ankle, I remove the last of the lace, and it flies off the bed.
Lowering her foot to the bed, I spread her wide. Her chest pumps with ragged breaths as I sit back on my heels and take her in. Every delicious fucking inch of her.
Her hands fist the sheets.
“Cal . . .” My name is a plea.
Christ, I knew it. She’s fucking perfect .