Chapter 16 #2
He leaned down, his lips grazing my neck, teeth nipping just enough to make me gasp, and I watched in the mirror as his mouth trailed lower, leaving a path of bliss across my collarbone.
My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and he obliged, his tongue flicking over my skin with deliberate intent.
The mirror reflected every move—his hand sliding between my thighs, parting me with a slow, teasing stroke that drew a moan from my throat.
I was wet, aching, and the sight of his fingers glistening as he teased me sent a jolt of arousal straight through me.
“See how much you want this,” he growled, his eyes locking with mine in the reflection.
He positioned himself, the thick length of his cock pressing against me, and I arched into him, desperate for more. With one smooth thrust, he filled me, and I cried out, the sensation overwhelming as I watched his muscles tense, his hips rolling with a rhythm that was both controlled and wild.
The mirror showed it all—his powerful thrusts, the way my body welcomed him, the bounce of my breasts with each movement. My long hair swayed, framing my face, and the image fueled my desire.
This was heaven.
He gripped my hips, angling me so I could see every inch of him sliding in and out, the slick heat where we joined driving me wild.
“Look at us,” he urged, his voice thick with need, and I did—watched as he reached down, his thumb finding my clit, circling it with expert pressure.
The dual sensation—his cock filling me, his thumb pushing me closer to the edge—had me trembling, my moans growing louder, echoing throughout the house.
The harbor lights flickered through the window, casting a soft glow over us, but the mirror held my focus. I saw the way his jaw clenched as he fought to hold back, the sweat beading on his brow, and it pushed me over.
My orgasm hit hard, a wave crashing through me, and I watched my own face contort with pleasure, my body shuddering beneath him. He followed moments later, a low groan escaping as he thrust deep, his release pulsing inside me, the mirror capturing the raw intimacy of it all.
Breathless, he collapsed beside me, pulling me into his arms, and I nestled against his chest, the mirror now showing a softer scene—us tangled together, his protective hold a silent promise.
This wasn’t just sex anymore.
He was quiet, but I felt the shift in him as clearly as I felt the tide tugging at the pilings in the harbor outside. Something had settled in his chest. Something dangerous. Something permanent.
“I scared you,” I murmured, voice soft in the low light.
“No,” he said immediately, then added, “You scared me before. When I realized you didn’t take the first note seriously. That’s when I wanted to break something.”
I turned my head slightly, just enough to catch the edge of his jaw. “You’re really not good at pretending this is just a fling, are you?”
He didn’t laugh. Didn’t blink.
“No,” he said. “I’m not pretending anything.”
That silenced me.
He ran his knuckles gently along my arm, and I could feel how tightly wound he still was beneath the calm. Like the soldier in him hadn’t stood down yet.
“I meant what I said earlier,” he added. “You don’t have to handle this alone.”
I swallowed hard, the remnants of adrenaline still thick in my blood. “You’re not responsible for me, Caleb.”
“No,” he said again, slower this time. “But I want to be.”
That cracked something open in my chest.
“I’m not used to people wanting that,” I said. “Not without strings. Or agendas.”
He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look at me directly. His eyes were clear, focused, burning.
“I don’t have an agenda,” he said. “I came into your restaurant because I was curious. I stayed because of you.”
“You don’t even know me.”
He smiled faintly. “That’s not true. I know how you taste. I know how you breathe when you’re focused. I know you work yourself half to death because there’s something you’re still trying to prove.”
My throat tightened.
“And,” he added, brushing a strand of hair back from my face, “I know you’re scared to want anything for yourself because the last time you did, it hurt.”
The words landed too close to the truth. I looked away.
He didn’t push.
“I see you,” he said quietly. “Even when you don’t want to be seen.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
Outside, the harbor shifted in its endless rhythm, the world still turning.
“I don’t expect you to feel the same,” he said. “But I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’re making promises you might not be able to keep.”
“I’ve kept harder ones.”
There it was again—that steel in his voice. Not arrogance. Certainty.
I let myself lean into him, pressing my forehead to his chest. “If I let you in, you have to understand something.”
“What?”
“This life—Promenade, my work—it’s all I’ve got. It’s the thing that kept me breathing when nothing else did. I can’t let someone tear it down, even by accident.”
“I’d never do that.”
“I’m not just talking about the notes.”
He nodded, like he understood more than I was saying. Maybe he did.
“I don’t want to be a distraction,” he said. “I want to protect you. It would be my honor, Meg.”
The word hit differently. Meg. Finn called me that sometimes, the way only he could—like it belonged to the version of me that still believed in people, the version that hadn’t hardened all the way through.
And now Caleb was saying it, too, his voice low and steady, as if he knew the weight it carried.
Maybe there was something in the universe about only good men calling me that, the rare few who saw past the armor.
I laughed under my breath, the sound brittle. “You say that like it’s easy.”
“It’s not,” he said. “But it’s simple.”
We fell into silence again. But it wasn’t heavy now. It was something else—charged, vulnerable, laced with something new.
“I should go check the perimeter,” he said, half-teasing.
I rolled my eyes. “You’re not in a war zone.”
“You’re a woman with a stalker.”
“I don’t know that it’s a stalker.”
He didn’t argue. But the look on his face said it all.
I stretched, sore in all the best ways. “You staying?”
He hesitated just a breath. “Do you want me to?”
I nodded once. “Yeah. I do.”
That was enough.
He shifted, pulled me closer, tucked a blanket over both of us without asking. His arm stayed around me like it belonged there.
“I’m not scared when you’re here,” I whispered.
He pressed a kiss to my temple. “Then I’ll stay.”