Chapter 54
CALLUM
noche de san juan - Hey Kid
Bonfires were lit along the beach, but he knew a place where he could take Alejandra—just for a moment alone—to make her forget the ocean, the shoulder, the injury.
And for him to forget the conversation with his taid and now, Vanessa’s stupid remarks.
He hadn’t missed how his mother had sagged her shoulder, turned around, embarrassed probably.
And why did she mention who his father was to Vanessa, and not him? How did she find out?
Callum shook his head. Right now, he couldn’t make that a priority.
He refocused his attention on Alejandra sitting next to him around the fireplace, lost in a chat with Rhiannon.
She’d jumped across the fire with a bright, bold smile, and even without asking, he knew what she had burned, what she was leaving behind.
He, on the other hand, hadn’t figured out what he’d burn.
His taid’s illness? Impossible.
Vanessa still giving him crap? Not relevant enough.
His relationship with Alejandra? God, no.
His father’s identity? Mmh, maybe he wanted to know now.
Maybe work.
Maybe how damn good it felt to not sit through meetings, not live in spreadsheets, not be boxed into a life in London.
Maybe he’d ask Leif and Asma about working remotely or for that full sabbatical Leif was so eager to give him.
Because wherever Alejandra went, he wanted to follow.
He knew she was it. His future. And she needed to understand that.
An alert about a missing kid had briefly rippled through the beach—false alarm, quickly resolved—but it had left his taid weirdly unsettled.
He kept asking around if the kid had been found, and even though they had been repeating it several times his brain clearly hadn't registered the information. It hadn’t stayed, and he looked around with wide eyes, as if he was trying to spot the missing kid already in his parents’ arms.
“Can you stay with him for a bit?” Callum asked his mother, who was talking with a friend near the fire. They had taken turns watching him, and he had spent the last hour or so dividing his attention between Alejandra and him. “I want to show Alejandra something.”
“Of course. Don’t worry. All of Aber is watching him,” she said, kissing his cheek. She had completely ignored what had happened with Vanessa. It had been swiped under the rug but he knew he had to find a time to talk to her about it, about Mick.
But that wasn’t the time. He wanted to enjoy Calan Mai, but mostly, he wanted to enjoy Alejandra. He turned to her and spun her into his arms, cutting off her conversation with Rhiannon, apparently about the superiority of smut over literary fiction.
“I’m kidnapping her,” he announced.
“Rude!” Rhiannon called out, grinning wide.
“Where are we going?” Alejandra asked, her green eyes catching firelight and shadows, full of mischief.
“Somewhere private. Just us.”
He led her to a curve in the coast he knew like muscle memory, a pocket of sand protected from tide and sightlines, a hideaway where he’d once come to think, or sneak kisses behind his mother’s back to the farthest corner of the beach .
Now, he was here with the woman who made him want to rewrite every memory.
“One of the things Calan Mai celebrates is fertility and passion,” he said, turning her toward the wall that gave them privacy. He caged her in with his arms, heat curling in his belly. “And since you’ve got your IUD… maybe we could properly celebrate passion.”
Alejandra looked up at him and nodded. “I think it’s a great idea.”
“But we’ll have to be quiet,” he murmured against her lips, his voice rough, breath warm as it ghosted over her mouth. His body was already pressed against hers, heat bleeding through layers, a promise he wasn’t even trying to hide. “Like in Ericeira. We’re not covered now.”
“I like it better this way,” she whispered back, and fuck—that nearly undid him.
Something in his chest tightened—sharp, possessive, completely out of his control.
The thought of being seen with Alejandra like this, out in public where anyone could notice them, sent heat rushing through him.
Not because people were watching, but because despite the noise and movement around them, it still felt like they existed inside their own private world.
Like somehow, in the middle of everyone else, she was only his in that moment.
His hand slid up, until it wrapped around her throat, firm enough to feel her pulse jump wildly beneath his fingers. His thumb pressed just under her jaw, tilting her head back, exposing her neck to him like she was offering it.
His favorite place. Always.
He felt it—the exact second her breath hitched. The way her lashes fluttered, the way her lips parted just enough for him to steal the air from her.
He loved that reaction. Loved knowing he could pull it out of her so easily.
“You like that,” he murmured, voice lower now, almost a warning, his grip tightening just a fraction—enough to make her swallow, enough to make her lean into it instead of away. Her eyes darkened, pupils blown wide, locked on his. That was it. That was the look that wrecked him every time.
He didn’t give her space to answer, he kissed her hard, hungry, like he’d been holding back for too long. His mouth moved against hers with urgency, teeth grazing her lower lip before soothing it, claiming, taking, devouring.
Her hands climbed up his back instantly, fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him closer like she needed him just as much.
His other hand moved without hesitation, sliding down her waist, over the curve of her hip, finding the button of her jeans. He didn’t break the kiss as he worked it open, the small metallic sound loud in the quiet around them, the fabric loosening under his touch.
The cool air hit her skin as he pushed them lower, his fingers brushing over warm, bare flesh, and he felt her shiver against him.
“I’m taking you right here,” he growled against her lips, his hand still wrapped around her throat, anchoring her to him, keeping her exactly where he wanted her. “On this rock, facing the ocean—”
He dipped his head, his mouth brushing along her jaw, down to her neck, where his grip already held her steady. His lips lingered there, breath hot against her skin.
“—so you remember,” he continued, voice low, almost reverent now, “that it’s not the sea that owns you.”
His thumb traced lightly over her pulse again, feeling it race under his touch. He lifted his head just enough to meet her eyes again, something darker, deeper settling in his expression.
“I do.”
She chuckled, breathless. “Poetry.”
His grip on her throat tightened just enough to make her gasp, the sound soft but sharp. It went straight through him.
“Such a smart mouth,” he muttered, his voice rougher now, less controlled.
He dipped his head, teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her neck before he bit down, then soothed it with his tongue.
He lingered there, sucking just enough to leave a mark.
A replacement for the one that had already begun to fade.
He wasn’t done with leaving his trace on her. Not even close.
Her hands moved between them, impatient now, undoing his jeans with a kind of urgency that made his breath hitch. When she pushed the fabric down, the cool Atlantic air hit his skin, but it barely registered.
All he could feel was her.
Her warmth. Her closeness. The way she trembled slightly under his hands.
“Are you wet, my love?” he asked, his voice dropping, almost reverent as his hand slid lower, brushing over her, finding her exactly as he imagined.
Her breath caught. “All for you.”
That nearly wrecked him.
“I fucking love you, you know that?” The words came out like a confession and a warning all at once, like something he couldn’t hold back even if he tried.
“You’ve mentioned it,” she teased softly, but her voice wavered, giving her away as she pressed a kiss to his neck.
His hand tightened again at her throat, not enough to stop her, but enough to remind her. To anchor her there, with him.
He shifted, guiding her back against the rock, his body aligning with hers, every movement intentional, unhurried, like he wanted her to feel all of it. To remember it.
Her eyes met his—green, bright even in the dim light, filled with something that hit deeper than anything physical ever could.
Everything.
He paused there for half a second, just looking at her, like committing it to memory.
Then he moved closer, slower this time, letting the moment stretch, letting her feel every inch of him, every second of anticipation. Her breath broke against his shoulder, her fingers digging into him as if she needed something to hold onto.
“So perfect,” he murmured against her skin, voice unsteady now, betraying how close he was to losing control.
She wrapped herself around him instinctively, arms tight, legs pulling him closer, like she wasn’t letting him go anywhere as he aligned with her entrance.
His hand slid from her throat to cradle the back of her head, steadying her against the wall, fingers threading into her hair as he kissed her again—slower now, deeper, less about hunger and more about claiming the moment.
The world around them faded—the wind, the waves, the distant crackle of fire—until it was just breath and skin and the space between heartbeats.
“Together?” he whispered as he thrusted into her, slowly, with no rush, savoring every moment, his forehead resting against hers, voice barely there.
She answered without words, her body pressing into his, her breath syncing with his, her hands pulling him closer like she needed him just as much as he needed her.
And when they finally let go, it wasn’t quiet.
It was breathless, overwhelming, something that shook through both of them at once, leaving her clinging to him, her face buried in his neck, his arms tightening around her like she was the only thing keeping him grounded.
He pressed his lips to her skin, softer now, almost reverent.
“Mark me,” he whispered, voice low, unguarded. “Alejandra… mark me.”
Her answer came in the way she held him, the way her fingers tangled in his hair, the way her mouth found his skin, leaving something behind that wasn’t visible, but felt.
He held her through it, through everything, like she was his anchor, his center, the only steady thing in the tide.
“I love you,” she breathed against his jaw.
He closed his eyes for a second, letting it settle into him.
“I love you,” he echoed, softer now, brushing her hair back, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
They stayed like that, tangled together, hearts still racing, breaths uneven, the sound of the waves crashing around them like applause. Her legs still wrapped around him.
Her head tucked beneath his chin. And he wasn’t thinking about anything else. Nothing else mattered.