Chapter 7 #2
She wades in the direction I suggest, grimacing at each icy pocket she hits in the water. I stand among an underwater boulder field, and when she comes my direction, she’s suddenly sticking halfway out of the water again, delectable torso fully exposed.
She drops to her ass on the rock next to me, the water barely lapping over her chocolately nipples. Goddamn, I’m beside myself for a taste, suddenly burning up despite the icy water.
“I thought you said you weren’t shy,” I flirt, reaching out and drawing her body towards me. Her warm flesh teases my core. I want her so badly I can barely find words … or breathe.
Callie’s eyes meet mine, melty and swirling with emotion. She says in subdued tones, “I’m not shy when you act like you want me to be here. But when you get all grumpy with a stick up your ass, it does make me doubt myself. I guess that could come off as timid.”
I chuckle, my cock in full rebellion, pressing firmly into her stomach as I burn alive beneath the skin. “Unrequested, unexpected. Your visit is both of those things, but not unwanted.”
“Your body conveys that better than your mouth,” she says darkly, pressing more tightly against me. I’d be happy to start talking with our bodies rather than our mouths. Never much of a wordsmith.
Her touch sizzles over my chest. I look down, cheeks heating as I watch her petal-soft fingers caress my pectorals. She traces the wing tattoos on my chest.
“I like your ink,” she whispers.
“And I like you liking my ink, Shivers,” I confess, eyeing her warmly.
“Good,” she exclaims, making her pink mouth the perfect round for my cock. What this woman does to me is a crime. “Shivers again. Is that because of my voice or your body?” she arches an eyebrow.
“My body,” I admit, thoroughly enjoying the level of honesty I share with this woman. “I’m a jumble of shivers with you so close.”
“Shivers of cold?”
I shake my head.
“Shivers of fear?”
I chuckle, grumbling, “Army Rangers don’t know fear. It’s trained out of us.”
“Everyone gets scared sometimes,” she says, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. Never has such an innocent act undone me so thoroughly. My cock digs into the soft flesh of her stomach, but she doesn’t pull away.
“Shivers of want, Calliope.”
“Nobody calls me that except my parents,” she whispers, her warm eyes begging me to kiss her.
“And no one calls me Mateo except my immediate family. I like having those names in reserve for me and you.”
“Like family,” she says, the corners of her mouth turning up.
“Exactly,” I say on a soft sigh, unable to take this wicked game any longer. My head dips, lips locking with hers unhesitatingly.
Her mouth softens, relaxing and drawing me in. Never has surrender tasted more delicious, heat pulsing through my veins and warming the ache in my chest that showed up with this woman’s arrival. The warmth almost makes the pain bearable, though I need far more than one solitary taste of her.
My tongue sweeps into her mouth, savoring my claim. Her kiss is sunshine and laughter and every good thing missing from my life. I’ve always had an addictive personality. Would it be so bad to get addicted to her?
As if reading my mind, her tongue mates with mine.
Her movements are tentative at first, but as my stroke solidifies into something rhythmic and highly suggestive, she follows suit, echoing my actions.
Flames pulse through my veins, need ratcheting in my core, growing tighter and tighter until I can’t entertain any thoughts.
She sighs softly, her hot breath teasing my mouth.
I breathe it in, needing more from her. The taste of her body, the breath from her lips, the essence of her soul.
Her slippery, warm skin slides over mine, and more blood rushes to my cock.
I don’t know if I’ve ever been this hard or desperate for a woman. I need her like I need air.
Calliope addles my mind, forging my thoughts into one of Mack’s sappy love letters. Unlike him, though, I mean the words with every ounce of my being.
Her fingers leave my ink, wrapping tightly around my neck as she stands on her tiptoes, inadvertently dragging her pebbled nipples over my chest. The movement sparks spontaneous combustion, a deep growl escaping my throat as my mouth and hands turn possessive.
My touch transforming from gentle to urgent and dangerous.
My hands slide roughly over the impossibly soft skin of her back, kneading and massaging her as I draw her closer, always closer to me until there’s not a molecule of air or water between our heated bodies. I need a deeper kiss, a better angle, impatiently lifting her by her waist.
She misreads my move, her legs rising and wrapping around my waist. I freeze, my dick enjoying the hell out of this. Gruffly, I warn, “Unless you’re ready for what comes next, you need to find your feet again, Shivers.”
“I’m ready,” she says, her moonlit face filled with conviction. I feel torn, desperately hungry for her, yet still confused by her easy transition from the letter-writing old man to me.
Maybe I shouldn’t let it bother me so much, considering she fell for my photo, after all. “Mateo, I want you,” she says, voice dripping with desire.
Mateo. There it is again. The way those three syllables come off her lips would make me do anything for her. Maybe even take her up on that archaic mail-order bride shit.
But first, I have to show her how wild and untamed I can be, fulfill every one of her deepest, darkest desires. I need her as addicted to me as I already am to her.