Chapter 19 #2
She flinched. “But our hour…”
“It was a bad plan and foolish to entertain it,” he interrupted briskly, holding out a cup of wine. She shook her head, refusing to take it.
“Callum, I am sorry. I never meant… I just thought…”
He threw the cup of wine aside in a swift, powerful movement.
The cup shattered against the opposite wall, leaving a red streak dripping down the stone, the spilled wine puddling at the base.
He strode toward her, coming close enough that she could feel his warm breath tickle her forehead.
A finger curled around her chin, forcing her gaze away from the broken cup and up toward him.
Callum stared down at her, brow furrowed, jaw set. A muscle throbbed in his cheek.
“Ye thought what, lass? Nae afraid of me, are ye?” he breathed. “Are ye still so brave? What are ye thinkin’ about at this very moment, let me ask ye that. This very moment. Nay lies, nay pretense, just truth.”
She swallowed, her eyes darting across his face.
His hair flopped forward over his brow, hanging in his eyes.
She longed to push it back. More than that, a tension was forming in her stomach, tight and determined.
Sensation flooded through her limbs, vague and blurry enough that she could only call it ‘sensation’, a rough, ordinary term that did not seem to explain what she felt.
“I was thinking that it’s a terrible waste,” Melody murmured at last, holding his gaze. “A waste of perfectly good wine.”
Surprise flickered across his face. He let out a reluctant huff of laughter. The pad of his thumb slid across her chin, and she couldn’t quite decide whether the movement was deliberate or not.
“Ye are goin’ to be the death of me, lass.”
He released her chin, leaving the ghost of his touch still lingering on her skin. Resisting the urge to run her knuckles over the place he’d touched, Melody swallowed, refusing to look away.
“I only want to know you, Callum. That’s really all it is.”
He shook his head. “Be careful what ye wish for. If ye kent me, truly kent me, ye would hate me.”
“Why would I?”
“It’s just the truth. I ken ye prefer to ignore established facts for as long as ye can, but it’s true. Ye daenae want to ken me, believe me.”
“Well, can I not decide that for myself?”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Let’s have a wee recap here. Ye are nae afraid of me, and ye want to get to ken me better, despite all ye have learned about me. Is that correct?”
She cleared her throat, lifting her chin. “Yes, it is.”
“Do ye ken what that tells me?”
“Enlighten me.”
He leaned forward until the tip of his nose nearly brushed hers.
“It tells me that yer instincts are truly terrible.”
He didn’t lean away. He stayed close, his face inches from hers, his scent overwhelming her. She swallowed hard, her mouth drying up.
“Worse than you think,” she whispered, and kissed him.
Melody could not have said what spurred her forward, or whether the terrifying events of that night had given her a madman’s sort of courage. Either way, she pressed her lips against his with a determination and desperation that he must surely taste.
He gave a surprised grunt, low in his throat. Melody had fully expected him to pull away, or perhaps to push her away.
He did neither.
Strong arms wound around her waist, pulling her tight against him. His body was firm and warm, and something shivered in her. His palm flattened against her spine, pressing her chest and shoulders against him.
He took charge of the kiss almost immediately, pressing forward and tilting his head.
His lips were warm and soft against hers, a counterpoint to the scratch of his stubble.
The hot point of his tongue ghosted against her lips.
Melody gasped, her lips opening. He delved inside, a warm and thrilling intrusion that made her legs shiver more than she should.
The pulsing insistence in her chest had drifted lower and now throbbed between her thighs. What did that mean? What did she want?
The wall knocked against her back, startling her out of her reverie. Had Callum pushed her back, or had she wandered away? No, she couldn't have moved on her own, not with her legs turned to jelly.
He broke the kiss, moving back only an inch or two.
Melody stared up at him, her breath catching in her throat.
His arms had disappeared from around her waist. She wanted them back.
Why couldn’t he touch her again and hold her tight against him?
There was something thrilling about the pressure of his body against hers, something that tugged at the wanting inside her that would not quite go away.
“Och, lassie, what on earth are ye doin’ to me?” he mumbled, his voice a hoarse rasp that she could barely catch. “Ye make me want to… to…”
Melody licked her lips, swallowing hard. She was suddenly afraid that he’d move back, and that idea seemed extremely, extremely bad.
“W-What?” she ventured. “What do I make you want to do?”
“Ye make me want to live,” he breathed. With his back blocking out the light of the room—it was only the fire casting light through the space, in any case—she could not read his expression. His eyes were dark. “Ye make me want to do this.”
Before she could respond—not that Melody would have trusted herself to venture a word at that moment—he leaned forward and kissed her again.
It was a rough, almost fervent kiss, one that sent tingles right down to her toes.
Hands skimmed up her ribcage, and she was suddenly reminded of sitting on the front of Thunder’s saddle, jogging up and down uncomfortably, with Callum’s warm hand curled around her side.
Fingertips brushed the underside of her breast, and she gave a startled gasp. It felt strange to be touched there, even fleetingly.
Not the bad sort of strange.
Callum gave a low chuckle, breaking the kiss. He pressed his lips against the front of her throat, a tickling sensation that spiked the warmth in her chest. Then, quite abruptly, he sank to his knees in front of her.
Melody wobbled a little at the lack of support, and he lifted his left hand, curling around her hip and holding her in place.
“What… what are you doing?” she whispered. Her voice cracked.
“Ye will see,” he breathed. She still could not read his face correctly, no matter how she strained her eyes in the flickering firelight.
His right hand slid down from her other hip, pressing against her thigh. She could barely feel anything but pressure beneath the layers of fabric. It was a fleeting touch, and his hand quickly fell away. She heard rustling, and then warm fingers ghosted against her calf.
Melody licked her lips. They had suddenly gone very dry. She wished she had some of that wine.
Fingers danced upward, over her stockings, up and up. She pressed the backs of her shoulders against the wall when he touched bare skin. His warm palm pressed against her thigh, just above her knee, and Melody could have sworn that goosebumps broke out in the wake of his touch.
Surely he’s not going to… the thought dissipated into nothing when he reached the top of her inner thigh.
With a slow, teasing movement, he dragged one forefinger along the join of her legs.
Her world narrowed to the simple movement and the chaotic sensation it provoked.
She let out a shuddering gasp, and he grinned.
It was a wide, glittering grin, and Melody thought hazily that he had never looked as wolfish as he did at that moment.
He repeated the movement, slowly at first, then faster and with greater pressure.
There was nothing, nothing at all that Melody had ever experienced which could be likened to it.
The first shuddering gasp that broke the silence of the room made her flinch, and it was a little shocking to realize that it was her.
She reached down, seeking something to steady herself, and found her hand resting against Callum’s forearm, his hand still gripping her hip. He glanced up at her, eyes alight, and grinned again.
His hand worked furiously between her legs, sliding and pushing with an expert touch that she had never even considered could exist before.
Slick sounds filled the room, mingled with her own rough gasps.
He gave a low, amused grunt in his throat and leaned forward, pushing her further back.
She had no idea what he meant to do, not until his lips grazed the side of her thigh.
She twitched, stiffening further. He let his fingers keep working and placed his mouth there. Juddering warmth spread through her, increasing with every movement of his lips and fingers. She closed her eyes, screwing them up until she saw lights inside her lids.
Pleasure built up inside her, the pressure increasing until Melody threw back her head—knocking the back of her skull on the stone wall as she did so—and let out a stifled cry. She had a vague vision of falling from somewhere high before her climax struck her, making her legs shiver.
For a moment, they stayed as they were, with Callum kneeling in front of her, one hand on her hip and the other buried under her skirts. He was breathing heavily, too, she noticed.
He moved back gradually, eyes fixed on her face, and withdrew his hand from beneath her skirt. A knuckle brushed against her leg as he did so, making her shiver. She swallowed hard, trying to work moisture into her mouth and words into her head. She should say something, shouldn’t she? Anything.
“That…I have never felt anything like that. I…rather liked it,” she said blushing. “Should I…ehm…I want to…do the same for you. What was it, anyway?” She asked, breathless, and sure that she was bright red by now.
“That,” Callum said at last, his voice heavy and scratchy, “was a mistake, lass.”