6. Melanie
melanie
When I come back to reality, I’m exhausted to my bones.
My eyes feel swollen and gritty, my face still wet.
A flush of embarrassment creeps into my cheeks at the feel of the wet cotton under my cheek, followed by a rush of heat when I realize how intimately we’re sitting; me, curled sideways on his lap, his thighs firm underneath me, his arms pinning me to his chest. I inhale shakily, lungs filling with his woodsy scent, my belly tightening.
I sit up, and he loosens his hold on me, his eyes burning into the side of my face as I scrub the tears away, keeping my stare averted. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
He cups my chin in his hand, his thumb pressing against my lips, cutting my words off. I flick him a startled look, finding his brown eyes glittering back at me. He drags my lip down, calloused fingers stroking my skin. I shiver, even though the last thing I feel is cold.
“Don’t apologize,” he rumbles. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“Cale?” I breathe, not sure what I’m asking. My pulse stutters as his eyes go hooded, flicking between mine and my mouth, his brow furrowing. Neither of us says a word.
The moment feels fragile—a glass teetering on the edge of a counter, waiting for one strong breeze to push it off and shatter it. Cale’s hand shifts downward, fingers circling the base of my throat, his thumb now resting over the thrumming beat there.
“I just…” His voice is a husk of sound. I wait for him to finish, but he shakes his head, like he’s trying to clear his thoughts. And then his hand is on the nape of my neck, pulling me closer, our breath mingling.
For a beat, his eyes lock with mine, searching, and then his lips brush against mine.
It’s so soft, I wonder if I’m imagining it, but then a groan is dragged roughly from his throat.
Cale’s fingers squeeze around my neck, just shy of stealing my air, and his other arm wraps around my waist. His head angles to the side as his mouth fully covers mine, his tongue sliding against my lips, coaxing me to open for him.
I move before I realize I’m going to, twisting to straddle his lap, knees tucked into the space between the sides of the chair and his thighs. I loop my arms around his shoulders right as his hand skims up under the hem of my light hoodie, gripping my hip.
“Darlin’,” he mutters. “You sure?”
The tips of our noses brush when I lean in, meeting his stare with a steady one of my own. “I’m sure,” I say huskily.
Cale’s eyes turn molten, so hot it feels like he could burn me up without even blinking. “Yeah, baby?” His fingers play with the waistband of my leggings, dipping underneath to drag over the top of my ass and then back out. “Tonight—”
Already knowing what he’s going to say, I cut him off with my mouth, our tongues dueling for dominance. I grind my hips down against him. “Please, Cale. I don’t want to think about what happened. Not anymore. I just want…” I nip his lip, smiling when his breath hitches.
“What do you want?”
I press kisses along his jaw, his scruff tickling my skin. My mouth meets his ear, and I whisper huskily, “Take me to bed.”
A wicked chuckle leaves him, and then he’s palming my ass and standing in one smooth motion. I yelp, wrapping my legs around his hips, the movement grinding the apex of my thighs against the bulge in his jeans.
“Whatever you want, baby.” He pulls me hard against him, fingers digging into my ass cheeks.
And then we’re walking through the darkened house into his bedroom.
He stops in the middle of the room, slowly sliding me down his body.
When I’m on my feet, he steps back, reaching out to flick the light on.
I look around, curious about his bedroom.
The walls are covered in a textured gray wallpaper, his bedspread a dark cobalt blue.
I’m not sure what I expected—a messy bed or clothes on the floor—but the space is tidy.
The only clutter is a small pile of coins and a receipt on the dresser, as if that’s where he empties his pockets at the end of the day.
There are no personal effects, no pictures.
It feels like a temporary space, even though I know he has lived here for years.
I bring my attention back to Cale, finding him already watching me, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. His posture is casual, unthreatening, but his eyes give him away-—dark, hooded, and focused on me with sensual intent.
“I don’t want to take advantage of you,” he tells me, voice guttural. “You’ve had an emotional day, so—”
“You don’t need to treat me with kid gloves,” I interrupt, gripping the hem of my hoodie and yanking it over my head, revealing the cotton tank underneath. “I know what I want.”
He doesn’t move, even as a muscle in his jaw ticks.
“Do you?” His expression is serious, so I pause, waiting him out. “This isn’t…” Cale sucks in a breath, looking torn. “I don’t do strings,” he finally tells me. “This won’t be anything more than us fucking.” My eyes narrow at his crude words, knowing he’s trying to put me off.
“I wasn’t aware I was asking for more. If you hadn’t noticed, I’ve got kind of a lot going on right now. I thought a few orgasms would be enough to take my mind off it. If you’re not up to the task…” I give him an arch look as I drop the hoodie to the floor.
His hands come out of his pockets, fingers tucking into loose fists. He takes a step toward me. I match it, taking one back, and his eyes darken.
“What?” he demands. “What happens if I’m not up to the task?”
My eyebrows lift. “Well, I’d have two options. I take care of it myself.” I lift a hand, one finger pointed up, giving him a saucy wink. “Don’t worry. I packed appropriately.”
His pupils blow wide, black swallowing the brown. “And the second option?”
I lift a shoulder. “I go find someone else to give me what I need.”
In a blink, Cale closes the distance between us, a hand sliding into my hair and fisting the strands. He tugs my head back, forcing my neck to arch, and our eyes lock. His brows lower, and he growls out, “No.”
“No?” I laugh lightly, even as my heart pounds in my chest. A flush spreads through my body, desire pooling between my legs when he tugs ruthlessly at my hair. “What makes you think you can stop me?”
The corner of his mouth kicks up, his expression dangerous. “I’ve got a few ideas about that.”
When he presses his mouth to mine this time, there’s nothing soft or hesitant about it.
His tongue demands my submission, forcing its way past my lips, stroking against mine as he explores every inch of my mouth.
The stinging pain in my scalp races through my body like an electric current, and my heart skips a beat.
I don’t hesitate, matching him in ferocity as I trace my hands over his body.
I start at his shoulders and make my way down, finding the hem of his shirt and yanking at it pointedly.
He reluctantly breaks the kiss, reaching back with one hand.
As he pulls the shirt over his head, his shoulders flex, his ink dancing, and I bite back a groan.
Davis let himself go, his midsection softening more with each year that passed.
But this man…There’s nothing soft about him.
He’s ripped, hard in all the right places, his chest covered in a light dusting of hair.
His right arm is covered in dark ink, and I follow the artistry up over his shoulders and torso.
It ends just below the shoulder of his left, and I lick my lips, tempted to trace the tattoos with my tongue.
He cocks his head to the side, the look in his eyes sending a delicious thrill through me that makes my stomach swoop.
“You need an orgasm, huh?” He leans toward me, brushing his lips against mine in an erotic tease.
I pretend to think about it. “Well, if you’re only good for one…”
Cale’s eyes widen in surprise, and then he is roughly yanking my tank over my head.
Once it’s gone, I don’t even have time to be self-conscious before he’s planting his palm against my sternum, shoving me.
I yelp as the backs of my knees hit the bed, and I fall backward, bouncing on the soft mattress.
“You wanna bait me, darlin’”—his voice is dark with warning—“you go right ahead.” He grabs the waistband of my leggings and underwear, pulling them down and off in one smooth motion, leaving me completely naked.
I press my legs together, my cheeks heating with something other than desire as I realize just how forward I’m being.
A voice in my head is screeching out a reminder that the last person to see me like this was my ex-husband.
In fact, he’s the only person to see me like this, but he clearly found me wanting.
Cale, on the other hand, has a history of beautiful women strutting out his door with mussed-up hair and kiss-swollen lips.
I clench my hands into fists, fighting the urge to cover myself as I start cataloguing every detail about my body that I don’t love.
My too-soft stomach after carrying Oakley, my skin marked with silvery scars. My breasts aren’t as perky as they once were. And my hips are wide, and my thighs thick—
“Darlin’.”
I drag my attention back to Cale. He’s still standing over me, his stare covering every inch of me, the heat in his eyes only building as he watches me.
“You are something fuckin’ else.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I whisper. “I know the kind of women you’re usually with.”
He clenches his jaw as he leans over me, snatching up my hand. Before I know what Cale is planning, he’s dragging me half-upright, pressing my palm to the bulge behind his zipper. He holds me there, and my fingers tighten reflexively. He groans, rocking his hips into me.
“Feel that?” His voice is hoarse as his cock twitches. “That’s what you do to me.”