Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
EVIE
R esearch is what I’m doing... so why is my body lit on fire, my breaths so quick I can barely draw a proper lungful?
I flip the page on the book I borrowed from the library.
The way my face burst into flaming heat when the librarian scanned this one to check it out still sears over my skin like a surly ghost.
The pile of books sits to my left as I hunt through the pages for different ways to up the chemistry and deepen the main characters’ connection.
I’ve been here, tucked away on this sofa, for hours.
The book in my hand, The Joy of Sex , is packed with illustrations.
Images I am sure will be burned into my brain for the rest of my days.
My panties are slick, nipples pert, and I all but pant as I turn the page.
The things an author has to do to get a scene right on the page...
I drift a hand over my chest, my fingers slipping past my lips as I take in a man bending a woman almost in half as he?—
A throat clears somewhere nearby.
With a start, I slam the book shut, eyes darting to the sound.
Cal stands in the door frame.
Of course he does.
The pile of sex books may as well burst into lurid red flames as I fumble the pile, trying to hide them under a cushion.
“What’ya reading?” he drawls. The smirk over his face tells me his question is redundant.
Oh, good lord.
“Um, just those research books I grabbed. Nothing interesting.” The words are far too breathy. And by the way his brow snaps up and he closes the distance, he notices.
He stands over me, head tilted.
“Research gets you all hot and bothered, does it, baby girl? That’s your thing?”
“Ah! I—” I sink back into the sofa.
Leaning down, he swipes the cushions away.
“Heavy stuff.” He picks up the pile of books.
I pray the sofa will do me a solid and suck me into its velvet maw, never to let me see the light of day again.
Sliding through the books, one after the other, he glances at me.
“ Your Pleasure Map .” He slides it from the top and drops it onto the cushions.
“ Fabulous Foreplay .” A half smile pops over his cheeky damn face as it lands on top of the last one.
“ Couples’ Kama Sutra ...” The rest of the pile topples to the sofa as he moves between my legs. “This is what your book boyfriends do?”
“Well—they—I...” I close my eyes, his scent fencing me in, and I swallow.
Hard. “In the scene I’m working on, the female main character is captured by the enemy.
Tied to a chair and... but she gets herself free.
I wanted an intimate scene for them, but everything feels so vanilla? Not really them.”
Cal’s face turns to stone, his eyes darkening. “So she is like a warrior of some sort?”
“She’s a fae pirate, actually. Admiral’s daughter, so she has rank. Fights, leads, all that heroine stuff, you know?”
“Mhmmm,” he rumbles.
Walking to the table, he plucks up a chair and brings it over. “She was tied to something like this?”
“Yes,” I breathe as he drops it in front of me and walks back to the kitchen. He rummages through a drawer before returning.
With rope in his hands.
“What’s that for?” I ask tentatively.
“On the chair, baby girl.”
“I—we . . .”
A rough hand reaches under my arm, tugging me to my feet, spinning me round, and depositing me on the chair. Cal steps around, and his mouth dips to my ear. “You don’t need a book to help you write this. You have me.”
Electricity skitters over my skin. I lay my head back on his shoulder. He slides my glasses from my face, placing them on the sofa.
“Is this the first time they’ve been close?” he rasps.
“Uh-huh,” I say with a rapid nod.
“And he just found her in a room where she’d been tied up?”
“Yes.” The word is thin against my parched lips.
A growl vibrates through his chest as he ties my wrists to the slatted chair back. Every breath heaves. His fingers brush over my skin, and I tamp back a whimper.
Damn sex books. I’m a writhing mess, and I still have my clothes on.
“Your book boyfriend is in love with your heroine, I assume?”
I nod, my eyes burning into the man in front of me.
He leans over, forehead pressing to mine. “Does she feel the same way about him?”
I want to pull his mouth to my own. To drown in him.
But my wrists are secured tight to the chair. I pull at them, and my movement jostles the chair.
Cal nips my bottom lip. “Does she?”
“Yes, she does.”
I don’t think I’m answering for my heroine anymore.
Deft fingers travel down my neck, slipping behind my button-down shirt. They dip behind the lace of my bra, ghosting over my hard nipple. I arch against the chair, mouth agape.
Cal’s mouth finds mine. It’s all I can do to open and let him plunder what he wants.
Panting, we break apart.
“Your book boyfriends take what they want, that’s what you told me.”
I nod.
Before the next heartbeat falls, his hands grip my shirt, ripping it apart. I gasp as buttons fling over the floor, and my shirt hangs open. Cal drops to his knees, kissing his way down my belly.
Short burning parcels of air wash through my chest. My clit throbs, achingly so.
The cutoff shorts I wear tighten around my thighs as they fall apart.
Tugging at the button, he rips the zipper open and pulls the shorts over my ass.
A moment later, they hit the floor, leaving only lacy panties behind.
“After all that rescuing, you think a book boyfriend would want to just flee with his girl... I doubt it, any man worth his salt would take his fucking time.” His finger slips behind the fabric covering my soaked pussy. It brushes over my entrance before swirling over my needy, throbbing apex.
“Cal,” I whimper.
The panties join the shorts on the floor. Large warm hands spread my thighs wide.
I wriggle on the chair. “What are you doing?”
I mean, I know what he is doing. But he’s supposed to be...
“Taking what I want.” His tongue plummets through my soaked center.
I tremble on the cool wooden surface.
Wrists bound, I arch on the chair. His hand presses down on my belly, holding me where he wants me. His tongue darts inside me and I can’t breathe.
A low, raw growl vibrates over my entrance when he sweeps his perfect damn tongue over me.
“This is what I want, baby girl. You writhing on the fucking chair.”
He bites down then sucks hard. It’s too much, and I feel too empty.
“Hands,” I rasp.
He stops, lifting his head with one brow raised. “Is that a trait of a book girlfriend, asking for what she wants?”
His finger flicks my clit.
“Of course . . . I-it is,” I splutter.
Another flick over the too-sensitive bud, and I jerk on the chair.
“Noted.” He dips his head, returning his mouth to my center. This time, two fingers sink inside me.
God, and the need to touch him, to wrap myself around his warm, muscular body is driving me insane.
Fingers curling forward, he pumps them, suckling and nipping my throbbing apex. Whimpers and mewls fall from my lips like a damn background instrumental song, ratcheting up in tone and intensity as he works my body, sending it high and higher.
With one long, blissful suckle, he sends me toppling over that edge.
“Oh! Go—Callum . . .”
I convulse around his fingers, pussy grinding over his bearded face. He growls and the orgasm splinters me into two, doubling down. Another bite and suckle, and I can’t help the cry echoing through the lighthouse.
As the bliss fades and I drop my attention to the man between my legs, my breath hitches.
Dark blue eyes look up at me. Something like satisfaction beams through them. Dropping my gaze further, I find the tented strain at the front of his jeans.
What I wouldn’t do to tie him down now.
Cal pushes to his feet, dotting a kiss to my lips, then my forehead. “Get cleaned up. I have something for you.”
“But—what?”
He nods toward the front door. “It’s outside, come on.”
“You were supposed to take what you wanted.”
He smiles at me, adjusting himself in his jeans as my gaze glues to that one spot. He leans down and nuzzles my neck. “I just did.”
Releasing the rope from my wrists, he walks from the house.
I sit on the chair, naked, swollen, and intoxicated. Every inch of my body thrums. His name morphed into the word god . I’m never going to live it down. Doubt he’ll ever let me forget that little moment.
Regaining my composure, I grab up my clothes and head upstairs. Wearing a fresh outfit, I pull my hair into a ponytail and push my glasses up my nose. Grabbing my hat on the way out, I find Cal waiting by the greenhouse.
“You wanted to help with the garden, so I made you one of your own.”
I stop in my tracks. “Wait, what?” A grin splits my face. First, the orgasm of my life, now, my very own garden. This man is?—
“Cal!” I jump onto his waist, hugging him before hunting for his mouth with my own. He kisses me hard but sets me back to my feet.
“You can seed, tend, and harvest this season’s tomatoes.”
My mouth gapes. “Really?”
He chuckles. “Absolutely.”
I squeak out a sound I’m sure any mouse would recognize as he grabs my hand and leads me into the greenhouse. A new bed, soiled and raked level, waits. A packet of tomato seeds, a trowel, and a pink watering can all sit on the ground by it.
“They’re easy enough to grow, and you get the best bang for your buck with tomatoes.
” He squats down, passing the packet of seeds up to me.
“Dig three-inch-deep furrows and scatter the seeds sparsely through each. Fill the furrows in and level it out. Water each day,” he says as he rises to his feet, “making sure they’re always moist, and you should see some green poke through in a few weeks.
Then, in around ten more weeks, you have a harvest. Think you can oversee all that? ”
“Of course!”
I bend down and pick up the trowel, eyeing the bed as I make a plan. The handheld radio at Cal’s hip squawks.
“Trinity to Fire Island Lighthouse, do you copy?”
Cal plucks the radio up in one hand. “Fire Island Lighthouse, read you loud and clear. Over.”
“Trinity to lighthouse, we are in need of assistance. Our nav system’s gone down. Over.”
“Lighthouse to Trinity, what’s your position? Over.”
“Ten miles due east. Over.”
Cal looks to me. “I gotta go, baby girl. You be alright here with your gardening?”
I lay a hand on his chest and push up on my toes, dotting a kiss on his lips. “I sure will. Thank you for the garden.”
“Gotta earn your keep somehow,” he says with a chuckle, slapping my ass as he walks away. “Be back before sunset. Keep the house radio turned up.”
“Okay, I will. Be careful!” I call out to his retreating back.
His hand waves over his head as if in salute to the sentiment between us.