10. Callum
CALLUM
“Please.”
One word.
That’s all it takes for my resolve to fucking crumble into dust. It’s the naked need and the hurt and the desperation all wrapped up in that one little word that obliterates all my common sense and good intentions.
I slide my arms around him and hold him tight.
The way I did earlier, the way he asked me to just now.
My head drops forward, finding that space between his neck and shoulder, and I breathe him in.
Take his rich, earthy scent deep into my lungs until he’s all I can smell.
It has become way too familiar than is good for either of us.
I didn’t come here for any other reason than to watch over him while he slept.
To keep him safe when I knew how vulnerable he was feeling.
I should walk away.
I know that.
I’m not who or what he thinks I am. And when he finds out the truth, he’s gonna regret asking me to be anywhere near him.
I’m too selfish to do the right thing, not when he fits against me like he belongs there. Not when my wolf hums in contentment because everything about this moment screams right on such a fucking base level I can’t fight it.
I don’t want to.
No matter how badly this could all end.
Will all end.
There’s no avoiding that fact. When Morgan tells him the truth, Ash will never look at me the same way ever again.
So, fuck it.
I’m going to accept what he’s offering, give what he’s asking for, and take the consequences on the fucking chin.
“Bed,” I murmur, trailing my nose up the column of his throat, ignoring the flare of arousal drifting between us because that’s not what this is.
He doesn’t want that, and I’m many things, but an arsehole who ignores consent isn’t one of them.
Reaching down, I hook my hands under his thighs and hoist him up.
That startles a laugh out of him, and he grabs my shoulders. “Warn a guy.”
“Sorry.” He probably weighs about twelve, maybe thirteen stone, and I should probably put more effort into acting human, but I don’t reckon he’s paying all that much attention to how easily I’m carrying him. Or maybe he thinks I’m just strong.
Either way, he doesn’t comment on the way I march inside like he weighs nothing. He tucks his head into the crook of my neck this time, and a happy sound escapes me when he inhales like he’s scenting me too.
I remember the layout of his home from the last time I was here. I don’t bother stopping until I reach his bedroom, where I’m forced to put him down so I can open the door. He slides slowly down my body, the hard length in his jeans brushing against mine and making me hiss.
He glances down between us. “Sorry. I just can’t—”
I put a finger over his lips, shushing him.
“Don’t apologise. Just because we’re both hard, doesn’t mean I expect anything. You already said no to fucking. I’m not here to pressure you to change your mind.”
His lips curve into a small smile behind my finger, expression softening as he takes my hand in his and leads me into his bedroom.
We undress in silence.
My cock hardens more as he reveals all that soft-looking smooth skin and taut muscles. I still ignore it though. I meant what I said. By mutual unspoken agreement, we keep our boxers on and slide under the quilt.
Goddess help me, it still smells like Ash and sex.
There are no other scents, thank fuck. Not sure I could handle lying here knowing he’d recently banged someone in this bed. But it’s testing all my restraint being drowned in such a heady aroma and not acting on it.
We lie side by side on our backs, looking up at the ceiling.
Ash huffs out a laugh. “Well. This is more awkward than I imagined.”
It is. And it doesn’t need to be.
“Come here.” I tug on his good hand until he rolls onto his side, then I lift my arm in invitation. After a moment’s initial hesitation, Ash settles himself against my side with his brace resting on my chest and his head on my shoulder. I wrap my arm around him, my hand splayed over his ribs.
He’s still tense; I can feel it in the way he holds himself, and there’s no need for that either.
I start off slow, tracing my fingers lightly up and down his back.
Bit by bit, he starts to relax, until I’m stroking my whole hand over his skin and he’s sprawled lazily, resting all of his weight on me.
“You’re warm,” he murmurs. He sounds sleepy and I wonder if he has his eyes closed. I slow my movements, finally settling my hand on the small of his back. He lets out a contented hum. “So fucking warm.”
There’s no arousal in his scent now, no lingering desperation either. There’s still that underlying sadness that’ll take a while to ease, but other than that, Ash smells like the forest floor after heavy rain: rich, earthy, alive.
He smells like home.
As his breathing evens out into sleep, finally finding some peace, I’ve never been more terrified.
Lynx: Where the fuck are you?
I stare at the message lighting up my screen. It’s almost four in the morning. If it was urgent, he’d have tracked my phone to find out, so the fact that he hasn’t means he’s just fishing. Odds are he knows exactly where I am. He wants me to confirm so we can ‘talk’ about it.
I know this, because it’s what I’d do.
I glance over at Ash, still sleeping peacefully next to me. At some point in the last few hours, he rolled over onto his back. It was an effort not to follow and slot myself against his side, but I stayed where I was because I’m convinced he’s going to regret this come morning.
What I should’ve done was get up and leave the second he moved, but absolutely no fucking part of me wants to leave this bed. It’s soft, warm, and the scents surrounding us are a mix of him and me now.
It’s addictive.
I’ll have to leave when he inevitably kicks me out come sunrise, but until then I’m taking advantage of his invitation to stay.
Lynx: Cal?
Cal: You know where I am
Lynx: I have my suspicions. I want you to admit it so we can have a discussion
I sigh.
Called it.
Callum: I’m with Ash
Callum: In his bed
Lynx: And you’re texting me? Must be losing your touch
I can practically hear him smirking.
Callum: He’s asleep, you arsehole. He was upset, asked me to stay. So I stayed
Lynx: And just happened to end up in bed with him
Callum: fuck off
If I was a wolf right now, my fur would bristle. He’s right to ask, I know that, but that doesn’t mean I have to like what he’s implying. I don’t like it. And that scares me too.
Callum: It’s not like that
Lynx: We’re going to talk about this when you get back
I close my eyes for a second and swallow the groan threatening to escape. I don’t want to wake Ash.
Callum: Fine
Lynx: Don’t be too long. We’ve got shit to do
Fuck.
I set my phone down on the table beside the bed and spare another quick glance at Ash.
Still sleeping.
I don’t know why I’m so rattled by Lynx’s texts. If it was anyone else, I’d be the one sending them, wanting to know what was going on. We can’t have secrets, not within the pack or the club. Our lives depend on honesty and trust.
But this isn’t anything to do with either of those things.
I do groan this time and rub a hand over my face, because I’m a liar. The whole reason I’m here is because Ash might be in danger, purely from being connected to Morgan and consequently our club and pack.
I need to leave.
Even if I don’t want to.
Even if my wolf yearns to slide over to Ash, wrap an arm around him, bury my face in his neck, and breathe him in.
As much as I hate to admit it, Lynx is right. We do have shit to sort out. I can’t afford to waste hours watching Ash sleep. I have a hunter to contact, and I can’t do that from Ash’s bed.
As carefully as I can, I lift the quilt enough for me to slide out from under it. Before I can make a move, Ash moans my name.
“Cal . . .”
His voice is rough with need and desperation, with a hunger that sinks into my bones. I turn to look at him, ready to tell him no, but I’m met with closed eyes still.
Fuck me, he’s asleep.
And dreaming about me.
He moans again, rolling over to face me with his arm outstretched like he’s searching for something. When his fingers touch my skin, he lets out a happy sigh, lips curving up into a smile, and he shuffles across the bed until he’s plastered against me, one leg draped over my thigh.
The quilt lifts with his movement, the scent of arousal drifting up. His cock presses into my hip, and Goddess help me, he’s hard. Whatever he’s dreaming of must be really fucking good, because he moans again and starts to grind against me, slow and filthy, and my body reacts.
I’m as hard as he is in seconds.
He must feel it too, because he smiles against my shoulder, and his hand slides down with unerring precision to grip me over my boxers.
Fucking hell.
I need to put a stop to this.
Now.
As much as I want to let this play out—and I really fucking do—Ash is asleep; he doesn’t know what he’s doing, and that’s not okay.
“Ash?” I ease his hand off my cock, and he laces his fingers with mine instead but doesn’t open his eyes. “Ash,” I try again, a bit louder this time.
Still nothing, and he hasn’t stopped grinding against me either, boxers damp with a sticky-wetness that I can smell.
A growl escapes me, my wolf desperate to roll on top of him and take what he’s apparently offering, but human me is still in control.
It seems to have done the trick, though, because Ash’s eyes snap open. He stares back at me, confused and disoriented, and I watch his mind slowly put the pieces together until everything becomes clear.
“Fuck.” His hips still, hand tightening around mine.
I expect him to push me off or scoot away from me, but he does neither.
“I was dreaming,” he whispers, like an explanation, and I can’t help myself.
“About me?”
“Yes.” He swallows, eyes never leaving mine, then hesitates before adding softly, “It’s always about you.”
Oh.
The scent of sex in his room, in his bed.
Is that all from his dreams?