53. CALLUM
53
CALLUM
“This was your best dish yet.” Chloe is scraping the plate with her fork. “Might be my favorite thing you’ve ever made.”
“Even over that wild mushroom soup last week?”
She groans, eyes closed. “Don’t remind me.” Chloe passes me her plate over the kitchen island. For having an expensive dining room table, I don’t think I’ve ever eaten at it more than once. We usually are curled up on the couch or at the counter. “I can’t pick. . . and don’t make me.”
“I know my favorite meal.”
Chloe blushes. “Doesn’t count, you didn’t make it.”
“It was still designed perfectly for me. Favorite flavor ever.”
Her blush deepens as she stands from the stool. “Let me help you clean.”
My head tilts, giving her a look that says, ‘ we both know better than to let you do that. ’
“Yeah, okay, you’ll just come behind me and redo it.” Pointing over her shoulder, she adds, “I’m going to go change. I have a surprise for you. Come upstairs in twenty?”
My dishes have never been cleaned faster.
Chloe isn’t in her room when I go upstairs. My bedroom door is open, a light breeze comes from where the door to the balcony is also open.
I step outside, finding her leaning against the railing.
She’s beautiful—inside and out.
I love her, I’ve known that. Written into the stars as clear as tonight’s sky, I think I’m in love with her. Fallen like shooting star, I’ve fallen for her.
I think I’ve been searching for love that I forgot to give love.
Have I been too selfish in my pursuit and desires that I missed out on opportunities to show others how deeply I care for them? Do Liam and George know I love them? Does she?
Watching her hair blow in the breeze, the hem of her shirt dance across her tawny skin, I’m struck with reality.
Love doesn’t have to be loud. It doesn’t have to be public displays or social media worthy. It can be, but that’s not what I want anymore—I don’t think it’s ever been what she wants.
Instead the love I have, the love I want is the quiet kind—seeing, knowing, understanding, trusting, encouraging.
Chloe showed me that and in return I’ve been trying to give that to her.
“Dais.” I put a hand on her waist, and her shirt rises. Chloe shivers. “Is this my surprise?”
“No.” She stands on her tiptoes, covering my eyes and spinning us. “This is.” She drops her hands that I’m peppering with kisses.
In the corner of the balcony is a pallet of pillows and blankets. A string of lights hangs from the railing, but they are dim, illuminating the space in a faint glow.
“I know your birthday is next week, but tonight was projected to be the clearest sky to see stars.” My roaming gaze locks back on her face. Her gray eyes are brighter than the stars that are filling the sky. “You mentioned this was your favorite thing to do as a kid, and I. . . well, I wanted you to get to experience it as an adult. With me.” She bites her lip, but I tug it free. “You’ve been experiencing a lot of my favorite things with me. I thought it was time to switch it up. I hope this is okay.”
“It’s perfect.”
“Okay, good. ”
My fingers circle her wrist, giving her a tug. Chloe tilts her head up, and I kiss her. She kisses me back, opening her mouth to let my tongue snake into hers. Her hands tug at the hair on the nape of my neck. My hands roaming her body.
Walking us backward, we move to the pillow pallet she created.
Our kiss finally breaks as we stumble, clumsily falling. “Happy early birthday, Pretty Boy.”
“Best present ever, Dais.” I kiss her. “Thank you.”
“I have one more surprise. Lay next to me.”
I roll off her, tucking her body into mine as I stretch out. Chloe pretzels our legs, tugging a blanket off the chair and over us.
“Should have added more layers to your pajamas tonight.”
“Never.” She taps my nose. “Do you see that star?” I point my hand. Chloe puts her hand over mine, adjusting the direction. “That one.”
“What about it?”
“It’s yours.” She moves my hand. “And that one is mine.”
“You bought me a star?”
“I bought us stars.” Our hands fall from the sky into our laps. “Now, even when you can’t see the stars, you will always be a part of them.”
“We,” I correct. “Why did you get yourself one too?”
She shrugs. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”
I roll onto my side, pressing my forehead against hers. “I’m never alone when I’m with you.”
“I know,” she whispers. “I feel the same way, Callum.”
Chloe has been using my full first name a lot lately, and I’m not mad about it. Having been called every rendition of my name by everyone else, her saying my full name is intimate and it feels like it belongs to her.
As if I belong to her. I do.
She continues her confession, warming my body. “I didn’t realize how alone I felt till I met you. How unseen, unappreciated, and guarded. Then you walked into my life and literally saw me in my rawest form.”
“Was a fancy lil meet cute—”
“Stop ruining the moment, Pretty Boy.” She nudges me.
“Okay, I’m listening. Keep telling me how much you love me,” I joke.
“I do love you.”
“You do?”
“Yeah,” she bites her lip. “I love you, Callum.”
For months, I’ve felt myself unlacing. The strings that have been holding me together coming undone. Hearing her say she loves me finishes me off.
Loving Chloe has been the undoing of my heart.
In every brilliant and marvelous way you could imagine.
I take her face in my hands, cupping her cheek. “I love you, too, Dais. I think I have for quite a long time now, just didn’t know what the feeling was.”
I’ve fought off telling her those three words, nervous that they’d scare her off. Or that my love for her wouldn’t be enough.
But it’s quite the opposite.
I’ve searched for love my entire life and when I finally stopped, it’s when I found her. Maybe we needed to go through what we’ve been through to find each other. And I think—no, I know — I’d do it all over again if it meant finding her. She’s the one my soul will always long for, a love I’d cross the universe to find, the one I’m meant for in every life.
There’s no trying with Chloe. There’s only being.
“Me too.” She’s bashful, looking like the innocent girl she isn’t. “Can you say it again?”
“I love you, Chloe.” I kiss her, pulling away to stare at the moon and stars outlining her.
“Again.”
“I love you. I love your laugh. I love the tattoos that tell your story. I love your fierce protectiveness. I love how creative and thoughtful you are. I love that your bedroom is chaotic, but you try to keep it clean for me. I love that you aren’t afraid to speak your mind. I love how you are my light in the dark.” I confess to her everything I love about her. . . which is everything.
To most, she is the fine print. The small details that others would overlook—a quick glance or once-over—which is their loss. Because Chloe Henry could never be just the fine print to me.
She’s the chapter header. The dedication. The parts of the books you love so deeply you annotate them and tattoo them on your body one day.
Chloe Henry is a permanent fixture, inked into my skin forever.
I must have spoken those words aloud. Tears speckle her cheeks.
“Are you going to tattoo my name on your body, Pretty Boy?”
“Nope, going to get ‘mine’ on my hand. So when you wear a necklace, you know exactly who you belong to.”
She gulps. Eyes heating, cheeks flushing. “I could never forget.”
I move her body beneath mine, kissing her senselessly. Chloe rotates her head, pushing it against the cushioned floor when I kiss her kryptonite—the spot between her jaw and neck. I kiss down the exposed skin. Her small cries do nothing for the erection that’s eager to get out of my pants and into her.
Pushing the blanket off of us, I lean on one arm, using the other to push up her shirt.
“Slut for,” I start to read.
“I crossed off ugly boys and put British boys.”
“Are you a slut for British boys, Dais?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Only one British boy.”
“You’re my little slut, aren’t you?” She nods, growing with need, her hips buck forward, searching for me. I chuckle. “With a needy, perfect pussy that can only be satisfied by me. Is that right?”
“Please,” she begs. “Callum, yes.”
“Tell me you’re mine.”
“You’ re mine, Callum.”
“Damn right.” I bathe in her possessiveness, grabby hands running over my chest.
I pull her shirt over her head. She tears mine off. Her matching knickers always have me drooling. I love that she wears this under her clothes daily, but I love it even more knowing it’s nothing for anyone but herself.
Chloe loving her body is sexy.
Leaning forward, the lace of her bra scratches across my bare chest. Reaching behind her back, her full tits are exposed when she unclasps her bra. Instead of going for her underwear, Chloe reaches for my belt, letting it clatter onto the deck beside the pillows.
Unbuttoning my pants, she pulls them down with my boxers. I snake my hands into her underwear, pushing inside of her. Chloe moans loudly.
“Shhh. Neighbors will hear,” I remind her.
“Then you better give them something good to listen to.” Lips I love curl into a dangerous smirk.
Chloe pushes at my pants and underwear. I hover my body and help her take them off me. She reaches her hand, curling it around me. Dragging her hand up, she rubs her thumb over the slit, collecting pre-cum and rubbing it over me.
Coated in myself, I pull her hand away, placing it on her breasts. She nods excitedly.
Pulling my fingers from her, I rub her arousal on her chest.
“Spit on me.”
I inhale sharply. Spitting between her chest, she rubs it in. “Push your pretty tits together.”
Rubbing my tip at the base of her breasts, I slide in between them with a hiss. There’s already another bead of pre-cum at the tip. Chloe focuses on it as I thrust myself in and out of the channel she’s created.
Her hips buck, grinding at anything that can provide her some sort of friction .
“Is this turning you on, Dais?”
“Yes.” Her chest rises and falls quickly.
I fist her underwear, pulling it against her. I can feel her withering underneath me, rubbing herself against the lacey fabric pulled taut.
Chloe moans out my name, squeezing herself hard.
“I’m not going to last long,” I tell her as my movements become unhinged. Desperate for this woman.
“That’s okay, we have forever to keep doing this.”
“Move in with me. Don’t go back to your apartment.”
“I already live with y-you,” she says breathily. I’m surprised her underwear hasn’t ripped with how hard I’m tugging on it.
“My room. Move your things into my room.”
Neither of us can keep talking as we cascade over the edge together. I paint her chest, twitching as I slide a few more times between her, milking it all out.
Chloe’s chest rises and falls but steadies as she comes down from her own high.
I lay next to her, holding her hand for a few moments before grabbing the blanket to clean her up.
“You mean it?” she whispers.
“I do.” Chloe bolts up. “Where are you going?”
“I have a busy night. Didn’t you hear? I’m moving in with my boyfriend..”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, he is insistently annoying that I never leave his bed. Says he can’t fathom a minute— second —without sharing the same air,” she says all dramatically, but her words are valid.
We’ve already spent every night for the past month together, tangled in my bed sheets, forehead to forehead, butterfly kisses. Kind of like high schoolers discovering love for the first time—it is everything I imagined it would be, truly loving someone for the first time. Whispering sweet nothings, telling each other stories from our childhood, clinging to everything good and holding on to each other during the bad.
I smile at her, and I can’t help the flurry of butterflies that explode from my skin. “Maybe tomorrow? I want to sleep right here.”
“Or maybe he should come help me?” I arch a brow. “I promise we can end up here again.”
I throw the blanket off. I crawl to the door. Her mouth hangs open. All I can envision is having her on all fours later, crawling to me and begging. From the twinkle in her eyes, I know she’s thinking the same thing. I should have given her romance books a lot sooner.
“You look like a dog.”
“ Woof. ” I bark. “I’ll be the goodest boy.”
“Last chance to back out.”
I stand and walk forward. “We already live together. I don’t see the point of staying in separate rooms.”
I follow her into my room, kneeling on the bed so we are eye level when I lean back on my heels.
“But I could keep my room. I should probably. You might get sick of me, and I’m so messy. Kick me out when my clothes are tossed on the floor.”
“There’s a no clothing rule.”
“Since when?”
“Effective immediately.”
“I’m still messy.”
“Yeah, you are. Especially when you are touching yourself with your mouth wrapped around me”
She pushes at my shoulder, but I catch her wrists.
“I’ve told you once before, Chloe, I want you here. Living with me. I’ve always wanted to live with my best friend, who knew I’d also get to love her.”
“Being sweet isn’t going to get you out of moving my stuff. ”
I jump from the bed, chasing after her. Picking her up in a swell of laughter, I toss her over my shoulders before depositing her on her bed and putting my head between her legs.