Chapter Eighteen
Liam
Jesus fuck.
I run my hands through my hair and let out a deep breath. Calypso and I tend to jump into situations without asking a lot of questions, at least when it involves each other. It hasn’t let me down yet but maybe we should have talked about this one.
My hands fall to the mattress next to me—her mattress.
Calypso’s small townhouse is similar to a loft.
The bedroom is its own walled off area, but it, along with the adjoined bathroom and closet, are the only spaces upstairs.
She didn’t mention that earlier today. Not that I mind; being in the same house as her but not with her would be far worse than being close to her without touching her.
Every day feels like I’m walking on a tightrope, except the closer I get to showing Calypso that what we have could be more than a fake scheme, the higher off the ground I get. One misstep and I will go tumbling down, losing her from my lack of patience.
Tonight was good, enjoyable. No, actually, it was fucking great. I’m more comfortable here than I am staying at my own mother’s house for a night.
We skipped past any awkwardness, partly thanks to Rosie, who gives Calypso something to begrudgingly comment on when the silence starts to wear on her. I don’t mind it as much. Knowing someone is nearby is enough, especially after the last few months of being alone.
Most of Calypso’s need to fill in the quiet faded as the night passed by.
We continued to look through her CDs while we ate dinner, making the floor our own picnic area as Rosie snoozed nearby.
Then we cleaned the kitchen together, which she tried to fight me on.
I’m offended she thought I’d impose on her space without helping.
That energy quickly morphed into acceptance when my help made it possible for her to watch an extra episode of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.
Apparently, she’s rewatching the entire franchise in her free time.
I’ve already seen most of it, thanks to my sister Piper, so I pulled out my sketchbook and hunkered down for the night too.
The entire time, I kept asking myself the same question: when is the right time to push for more with Calypso?
A one-night stand is very fucking different than whatever we’re doing now.
This… This is intimate.
We both know it, even if neither of us has said it.
When Calypso asked if intimacy was the problem between Hannah and me, I said no because I knew she meant the physical kind—It wasn’t totally the truth.
Wanting different things in life is what ended us, but emotional intimacy was what first started to decay the relationship years before we actually called it quits. Our enjoyment of each other didn’t extend to marveling at the mundane moments of life together.
I’m not going to overlook these firsts with Calypso, especially when our time together is limited. Even if it doesn’t end in December, it’s only a matter of time before Calypso changes her mind or runs from her emotions.
Tonight feels especially monumental, though.
I’ve never seen her ready for bed. The night in my hotel room doesn’t count because she was limited to what I had available for her, which wasn’t much when it came to skin care and pajamas.
At first, I thought she would probably be someone who wore matching sets and sleep masks. The image is adorable, but the longer I get to know her, the more wrong it feels. She’s not that put together—not in a bad way.
In a quietly chaotic but alluring way.
So, my guess is that she just throws on whatever feels comfiest that night.
And based on her large pile of laundry in the corner, whatever is clean.
The knob turns and I slowly look up, taking in her long, bare legs first.
She walks out more shy than I’ve ever seen and I’m completely enraptured by the sight.
Calypso wears an oversized, threadbare band tee and a pair of cotton panties. I can only see them because she fidgets with the hem of her shirt. Her hair is pulled into a bun and her face is shiny from her skin products.
“You probably had a different idea of how tonight was going to go,” she says. Her walls are erected, the same ones I thought were coming down after the last few days.
Leaning back on my hands, I make myself comfortable and watch her. I’m only in a pair of boxer-briefs and athletic shorts. I considered wearing a shirt but I hate sleeping in one. Plus we’ve already been intimate, and we are fucking adults.
I’m glad to see she agrees.
I crook a finger at her. She crosses her arms, mentally digging her heels in.
My lips slowly tug upward. “Please,” I say in a low, gravelly voice.
That one simple word has her feet moving closer to me.
When she’s within reach, I grab her hips with both hands and pull her between my legs. “I tried to imagine what you’d look like when you came to bed,” I admit. “None of them did the current moment justice. It never does.”
She squints at me and I stare up at her with raw intensity. Her hand skims up my arm, stopping at my shoulder and tracing the outline of the devil horns with a finger. Electricity sparks in her wake, making my next words hard to get out, but they feel necessary.
“We’re just going to bed tonight.” The words taste like tar, trying to stick to my vocal cords before it’s too late.
Her head whips in my direction. I can’t tell if she’s surprised or disappointed—maybe both.
She eyes me. “You said the choice would be mine.”
“I did.” I nod. “But I want to make sure things are really okay between us.”
“What are you talking about?” Her voice lowers, matching the warm lighting around us.
Tilting my head, I give her a patient look. “I’m talking about the beach. Er, rather, what was said after the beach.”
That blank, unattached expression slowly slides into place. “So they thought we were fucking—not like we haven’t before. I don’t care what they say.”
No one actually saw anything, as far as we know, but the rumor mill was bound to turn our fairly innocent moment into something far more illicit.
“Neither do I.” Her brows raise, questioning me. “I care about you and your comfort. I’d rather be here with you, dying from blue balls—” she lets out a surprised snicker and a small smile cracks through, “—than have one more night with you, only to lose you to your own mind in the morning.”
She swallows, and her fingers twitch against my skin. I expect her to pull away, to start reinforcing the shield around her heart. Instead her nails dig into my shoulders as she makes herself hold on to me.
“So what you’re saying is…?”
“Tonight, I’m not ready,” I admit.
Understanding washes over Calypso. Whether she truly wanted to cross that line tonight or not, she accepts my hesitancy, not seeing it as a game or rejection anymore.
She runs her hand up my neck and across my jaw. “You’re on my side of the bed.”
Chuckling, I stand, coming chest to chest with her. Her soft, warm hand flattens against my lower stomach. Holding back a groan, I swallow and meet her eye.
“I don’t care about the rumors,” she says again. “I just… I thought—I don’t know.” She shakes her head at herself and a lock of hair falls loose.
Brushing it behind her ear, my thumb lingers on her cheek.
“I thought it was a private moment, something just for us.” My confession makes her shoulders visibly relax.
“Just because we’re dating for the town, doesn’t mean every moment we share has to be theirs.
This new arrangement gives us more time, which is why I’m not in a rush. ”
Nodding, she lets out a pent up breath and crawls into bed. After I pull back the comforter, she watches me settle into the spot next to her. I’m immediately enveloped by her sweet honey butter scent—it’s ingrained into her sheets, her pillows, my fucking soul.
We both lie back, turning on our sides to look at each other and she slides her hand closer to me. “Good night, Liam.”
I interlace our fingers. “Good night, honey.”
She’s about to say something else when Rosie starts whining and trying to jump up on the bed. It’s a few inches too high for her, and I usually keep stairs at the foot of the mattress so she doesn’t hurt her back.
“Oh my God,” Calypso groans and turns away from me. I’m leaning over, ready to tell Rosie to go back to her bed on the floor when Calypso adds, “Just bring her up—but she better stay by your feet.”
Rosie looks at me like yeah right, but I scoop her up anyway.
We’re silent after that, each of us falling asleep easily in the new comfort of our temporary home.