Chapter 14
Something crashes. Loud. Followed by a stomp and a hissed “Shit!”
My eyes snap open.
At first, I think I dreamed it. But then I hear a frantic rustling. Fabric? A thump. A whisper of curses. More frantic rustling.
I turn my head toward the noise slowly and nearly laugh out loud when I see Blair on all fours, crawling across the floor like a sexy, foul-mouthed burglar.
She’s wearing nothing but my damn shirt, which is halfway unbuttoned and hanging off one shoulder like she’s starring in a low-budget rom-com called Walk of Shame: Couture Edition.
Her hair’s a full-blown disaster… which I’ll gladly take credit for, and she’s patting the floor with both hands, I presume, looking for something.
I don’t move. I just prop myself up on one elbow and watch.
This is… new.
This is the first time a woman has actually tried to sneak out on me. Not fake sleep. Not awkwardly linger. No, Blair is full-on trying to crawl her way out of my room like I’m some kind of post-sex velociraptor she needs to avoid. It’s almost impressive.
And she hasn’t even noticed me yet. Rude, honestly, considering the amount of dick I gave her last night.
Her ass wiggles as she keeps searching under the dresser. “Where the fuck… ugh, come on…” she mutters to herself, yanking the shirt she was wearing yesterday out from under the nightstand like it personally wronged her.
I wait. Because I’m patient. And a little evil.
Just as she reaches for her pants, victory in her grasp, I say, casually:
“Are you trying to sneak out on me, Peach?”
She screams.
Like full-body, jump-scare, haunted-house scream.
Her head whips around, eyes wide in pure terror, hair flying like she just heard footsteps in a horror movie. “Jesus fucking Christ, Calvin! Are you insane?!”
I grin. “Up for debate.”
She grabs the shorts, clutching them like a life preserver. “I wasn’t sneaking out!”
I raise a brow. “Oh? You just felt inspired to army crawl out of here like a guilty raccoon at sunrise?”
She snorts, face flushed. “I was walking out… quietly…”
“On your hands and knees?”
“I…” She scowls. “You know what? I’m not doing this with you. I need to leave this room and maybe bathe in holy water.” Blair tries to jam one leg in her shorts. She nearly topples over.
I don’t move from the bed. Just smirk. “Or you could crawl back into bed, and I can make you beg the way you begged for my dick last night.”
She spins to glare at me. “This isn’t a joke, Calvin.”
“It felt like a joke, the way you tried to sneak out.” I deadpan. “Next time, though, if you’re going to attempt a stealth exit, maybe don’t shout ‘shit’ loud enough to wake the neighbors.”
She groans and runs a hand through her tangled hair. “Seriously? Are we just going to ignore the giant, screaming elephant in the room? You know that you’re engaged. To my sister. And this… whatever this was, was supposed to be a one-time thing. Get it out of our systems, remember?”
I sit up. “Technically, it was three times. And I’m pretty sure we still haven’t gotten it out of our systems.”
“Calvin, be serious.”
“I am being serious.” I lean forward, my arms braced on my knees. “If you want to walk away, if you tell me you’re done, I’ll let you go. But if there’s even a part of you that’s still curious… still wanting, then come back to bed.”
She looks like she wants to argue, but the fire drains from her eyes and is replaced by something that looks a lot like heartbreak. “It doesn’t matter what I want. This is wrong. So, so wrong.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But we already crossed that line. No point in pretending we didn’t. We might as well keep going until we completely get it out of our system.”
Her jaw clenches. “So what? You’ll just bounce between me and Abigail? Is that what you’re saying? That’s disgusting, Cal.”
She storms for the door, but I’m faster. I reach for her wrist, gently stopping her. “Blair. Stop.”
She doesn’t fight me, but her back is rigid, her breath shallow.
I step in front of her and lift her chin until our eyes meet. “I’m not that kind of monster, Blair. Believe me when I say, if I’m fucking someone, I’m only fucking them.” She looks at me with confusion and maybe distrust on her face. And I can’t even blame her.
Her expression softens slightly. “You’re telling me your sex life with Abigail is…”
“Nonexistent,” I finish, and it’s the truth. Whatever Abigail and I have, it’s pure professional. “I would never do that to either of you, Blair.” My fingers trail slowly down her jaw, grounding her, anchoring us both in this moment. “You need to know that.”
She searches my face, her defenses faltering. “You promise?”
“You have my word, Peach.” I brush my thumb over her cheek.
She doesn’t say anything, not with words. But her body speaks, leaning into me, seeking something even she can’t name. The air between us thickens, tension stretching taut, no longer sharp but heavy with need. Longing.
Her breath stutters as she presses her face into my chest, as if hiding from the truth she’s already surrendered to.
“God,” she says in the barest whisper. “This is the worst thing I could do… but I don’t know how not to want you.”
Her confession threatens to crack something wide open in me. But I don’t let it. I can’t let it. Because if I do, and open that door, I’ll hurt her. That is the last thing I want to do.
This has to stay simple. Just us getting each other out of our systems. Just sex.
So, I swallow the storm inside me and cup her cheek, making her look up at me.
And fuck me, Blair is beautiful. Not in a loud, attention-demanding way.
She’s soft. Gentle. The kind of beautiful that creeps up on you and guts you without warning.
Her eyes are wide, her lashes impossibly long, and her mouth, God.
Those full, pink lips, made to be kissed until they’re swollen.
I push all that down and keep my voice light, casual. “How about this? What do you want to do today?”
Her gaze flicks from my left eye to my right, then down to my mouth, like she doesn’t know where to land. Like she’s trying not to say what she really wants.
“Anything you want to do,” I offer, gentler this time.
She bites her lip, then sighs. “I need to work on Abigail’s dress and edit some videos for my channel… but maybe later we could see a movie?”
“Sure. I don’t have a movie theater room, but I can take you out, anything you want to watch.”
“Hmm… oh, if they’re showing it, can we watch the Barbie movie?”
I blink. “You want to watch a kids’ movie?”
Her head snaps up, eyes narrowing. “It’s not a kid movie. It’s about feminism, existential crises, and plastic shoes that don’t fit… It’s important.”
“Something tells me you’ve already watched it more than once.”
“That’s beside the point. It’s a good movie.”
I stare at her for a beat, then grin. “Alright, Peach. You pick the time.”
I can’t believe I just agreed to watch a movie called Barbie. What the hell has happened to me? But the way she’s looking at me right now, eyes wide, lips parted, like I just handed her the moon, I know there’s no universe where I could say no.
“Really?” she breathes, her whole face lighting up.
Damn it, I feel something in my chest. Warmth. A dangerous kind.
“Really,” I say, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll go see the Barbie movie. And I’ll even buy you popcorn.”
She laughs, giddy and unfiltered. “Thank you.” Then kisses me, soft and sweet, like she means it. Like we mean something.
I start to deepen it, chasing that taste, but before I can really sink into it, she pulls away. “I should go get started on the dress,” she says, her hands dragging slowly down my bare chest like she’s reluctant to leave.
I sigh, kissing her one last time. “Fair enough. But we’re eating first. Then we can both get some work done. I’m not letting you starve again.”
She smiles up at me. “Aw, look at you. Wanting to take care of me.”
I shrug, trying to play it off, but her words hit deeper than I want to admit. I do want to take care of her. That’s the problem. “Someone has to,” I say with a smirk. “You’re a handful.”
She laughs and slips out of the bedroom, and I watch her go, shirt hanging off her shoulder, bare legs still marked with last night’s sin.
My heart kicks hard against my ribs.
No. Fuck, no.
This isn’t a date. This isn’t sweet. This isn’t… whatever my heart is trying to whisper to me.
It’s just sex.
Just a movie.
Just her.
Just…
Fuck.
As we walk into the theater, she’s clutching a pink blanket she insisted on bringing. Of course she’s one of those people who brings a blanket to the movies. She’s also dressed from head to toe in pink. I have never seen an adult this obsessed with pink before.
The movie starts, and she’s all in, eyes glued to the screen, hand clutching the corner of her blanket.
I’m trying to pay attention to the film, but it’s hard when all I can focus on is her, how she bites her lip when she’s concentrating, the way she giggles at the jokes, her head tilting closer to my shoulder as she gets more comfortable.
By the time we’re halfway through, I feel her head gently drop onto my shoulder.
I glance down and smile softly. She’s out like a light, breathing softly, her face relaxed.
I should wake her up, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
She looks so peaceful, and I know she’s been stressed out lately with everything going on with us.
But there’s a problem. My arm is completely numb, pinned between her head and the seat.
I try to shift a little, but it just makes her snuggle closer, her blanket slipping off her lap and onto me.
Great, now I’m wrapped in pink fluff. Still, I don’t move.
I can’t. I’d endure a thousand pins and needles to keep her like this, comfortable and safe.