Chapter 34 Annabelle #2
“I know. I mean, he volunteered to help with Fall Fest when half the guys you hired bailed.”
“Oh my God,” she laughs. “That lumberjack show was a disaster.”
I don’t know if it was a disaster—we raised a shit ton of money, which was the point. Tons of money. The crowd went nuts for Harris Bennett and his football buddies.
“He made the entire show,” I agree fondly. “He showed up—wearing suspenders. Trying to chop.”
Lucy coughs. “He was so bad.”
Yeah, that he was so bad at. At one point I had to show him how to use an axe . . .
“The worst. He nearly brained himself with the axe.” I chuckle. “But he stuck it out. He stayed. He did it for you.”
She quiets again; this time it’s that sweet, teary kind of quiet.
“That’s how you know someone’s a good one,” I add softly. “Not because they’re perfect, but because they try.”
Lucy presses a hand to her chest. “Stop it. You’re going to make me cry, and I’m not even the pregnant one.”
I laugh and dab at the corners of my eyes anyway. “Sorry. Hormones. Can’t help it.”
She sniffles, then grins. “So what I hear you saying is that if I marry him, you’ll plan the wedding?”
“I’d be insulted if you let someone else plan it.”
Callum leans against the frame, still shirtless—because apparently, that’s his default now—and gives me a look that could melt drywall. “Hey,” he says, voice low and teasing. “You still on that call?”
I lift a finger. “Five more minutes.”
He crosses the room in three slow, purposeful steps, like he’s stalking prey. Which—let’s be honest—I am. The man has been insatiable since the day we got married.
Lucy squints through the screen. “Is that a towel around his waist?”
I don’t even turn to confirm. “Yep.”
“Is he dripping?”
I sigh. “He hopped in and out of the shower and immediately came to annoy me.”
Callum crouches down beside me, resting a warm palm on my thigh and murmuring, “Baby, I’m clean. You should come test that out.”
I nearly fling the phone. “Callum! Jeez! My friend is watching!”
“What?” He grins, eyes all puppy dog and sin. “It’s been a long day.”
Lucy’s cackling now. “I’m hanging up before I hear something I can’t unhear.”
“No, don’t go! We still haven’t talked about—”
Too late. She’s gone.
The screen goes black, and before I can even set the phone down, Callum plucks it from my hand and tosses it onto the nightstand with the casual precision of a man on a mission.
“Alone at last,” he says, voice low and thick with intent.
I roll my eyes, but my pulse is already thumping. “You’re impossible.”
He shifts me onto my back, bracing one arm beside my head, the towel around his hips loosening just enough to be a problem. His damp curls drip a bead of water onto my collarbone, and I squeak when it rolls down between my breasts.
“Oops,” he whispers, nosing against my jaw. “I missed a spot.”
I arch into him. “You’re usually so very thorough.”
“That’s what you married me for.” His grin is cocky, but his touch is reverent as his hands slide beneath my pajama top, pushing it up, up, until the cotton bunches under my arms. “Arms up, baby.”
I oblige, and the shirt is gone in a blink, tossed somewhere to the floor.
The cool air hits my skin, and then so do his lips, tracing a line down my sternum, pausing just long enough to make me squirm.
“You’re staring.” And I like it . . .
“Can’t help it,” he says, voice thick. “You get prettier every damn day.”
I laugh, shaky and quiet. “You’re just saying that because I’ve got huge boobs now.”
“Absolutely not.” His palms glide over my hips, hooking into the waistband of my pajama shorts. “Though the boobs are a bonus.”
He peels the rest of my clothes away slowly, kissing along every new inch of skin like it’s his personal mission. When he finally pulls back, eyes roaming appreciatively, his towel barely clinging to his hips, I feel bare in every sense of the word.
And I want more.
“Callum . . .”
He stills, like he’s savoring the sound of his name on my lips. His eyes meet mine—dark, tender, entirely focused. “Yeah, baby?”
I reach for the towel. “Lose this.”
“Bossy.”
I tug him closer. “Extremely turned on.”
The towel hits the floor.
He settles over me, his hands bracketing my face like I’m something precious, not someone half naked and begging for his dick. His mouth brushes mine before sinking into a kiss that leaves me breathless.
So, so turned on . . .
“I missed you,” he whispers against my lips, voice suddenly raw.
“I’m right here.”
“I can’t get enough of you,” he murmurs, voice thick. “Even when I have you, it’s not enough.”
He slides into me.
Out.
In.
He groans, dipping his head to my chest. “God, I love that sound.”
The sound of sex . . .
And then we’re moving—him inside me, us finding that rhythm we always fall into, the one that’s slow and deep and desperate and drives me absolutely, completely mad . . .
In a good way.
Still . . . I want to be on top.
Pressing a hand to his chest, breath hitching, I whisper, “Switch with me.”
His eyes flare—surprised, turned on, reverent. “Mmm . . .”
He rolls, guiding me gently until I’m straddling him, his hands skating up my thighs like he can’t believe his luck. I sink back onto him with a sigh, both of us exhaling like we’ve just been handed the moon.
“Oh God . . .”
His hands go to my belly, thumbs grazing the curve like it’s sacred.
Then his giant palms migrate up, sliding from my belly to cup my breasts. I gasp, arching into his touch, his thumbs brushing across skin that feels too sensitive.
I roll my hips, chasing that sweet, aching friction, and he groans—head falling back, jaw tight. My palms flatten on his chest, feeling the thrum of his heart, the heat of him beneath me. Move to the headboard . . .
“Look at me,” he says, voice hoarse, large, beautiful body glistening beneath me. “Let me see you fall apart.”
I force my eyes open, meeting his. He’s glowing in the low light—his beautiful, broad body slick with sweat, chest heaving, eyes locked on mine like I’m a miracle he never expected to hold.
With his name on my lips, a cry caught in my throat, my fingers clutch his shoulders like they’re the only solid thing in the world. My body trembles, breath shattering, and it’s like something inside me breaks open and spills pure light.
When I finally collapse against his chest, breathless and shaky, his arms lock around me. Strong and sure.
Steady.