19. Freddie #3
The words are out before I can stop them, and instant regret floods through me. What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t know how I’d handle him saying no. I don’t know how I’d handle the rejection, the awkwardness, the everything.
My magic buzzes and itches beneath my skin as Callum slowly steps out from the wall, closing the remaining distance between us.
He looks down at me, his eyes searching mine with an intensity that makes my knees feel like jelly. His hand comes up, and he wraps the ends of my hair around his finger, tugging gently.
“I thought you knew by now,” he murmurs, his thumb catching a strand of hair behind my ear, “that I’d do almost anything you asked me to, Win.”
I suck in a breath. It shudders in my chest, and I can’t even pretend I’m not affected. The way he says my name, like it means something to him. Like I mean something to him.
Callum leans down, his broad hand coming up to cup my jaw, his calloused thumb resting right over my thumping pulse point. He hovers an inch away, his warm breath fanning across my face as he whispers against my lips, “Except get JUICY tattooed on my ass. That’s never happening.”
I laugh. Loud and unguarded and surprised right out of me like a hiccup. I can’t help it. The sound barks out of my throat, and my shoulders shake, and I’m laughing so hard I almost miss—
His mouth is on mine.
The kiss hits like a sudden summer storm—fast, fervent, and completely consuming.
He tastes like whiskey and spearmint gum, an intoxicating mix that makes my head swim.
His mustache scrapes against my upper lip, a ticklish contrast to the firm press of his mouth, and I make this little sound that I didn’t know I was capable of.
His hand slides into my hair, fingers curling at the nape of my neck, angling my head just right.
The other hand finds my hip, tugging me against him.
I stumble forward, my palms flattening against his chest, and he’s so solid.
I can feel the thud of his heart under my fingers, racing just as fast as mine.
Callum groans low in his throat, his tongue licking along the seam of my lips.
I part them instantly, letting him take over.
My hands slide up his chest, over his shoulders, into his hair.
It’s softer than I expected. I grip it, and he makes a noise against my mouth—something between a groan and a growl—that goes straight between my legs.
His hand drops from my hip, slides down, and finds my ass through the thin fabric of my dress. He squeezes—hard—and I gasp into his mouth, my hips pressing forward of their own accord. He smiles against my lips. I can feel it. The cocky bastard.
“Mmm,” I manage against his mouth, “that’s—that’s not vanilla.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, and his eyes are a darker blue. Stormy. His pupils are blown wide, his lips slightly swollen and shiny. “I told you.”
And then he kisses me again, and I forget how to think.
I forget where I am. There’s just him, and this, and the way his hands are everywhere.
On my waist, my back, cupping my jaw like I’m something precious.
His mouth moves against mine, patient but hungry, like he’s memorizing me and trying to consume me all at the same time.
His thumb traces my lower lip when he finally pulls back again. My lips feel raw and tingly. My face is flushed, my hair is a mess, I can already tell, and I do not care. Not one bit.
“Did that answer your question?” he asks, and his voice is a little wrecked, a little rough.
I open my mouth to say something witty. Something that’ll put me back on solid ground. But what comes out is, “I don’t remember what the question was.”
He grins. That full, wide, devastating grin that makes his mustache stretch over his lip. “Good.”
And then he kisses me again, because apparently we’re doing that now, and I’m not complaining. Someone wolf-whistles from across the bar. I hear it dimly, like it’s happening in another room. I don’t care. Callum doesn’t seem to care either, his hand back on my ass, pulling me flush against him.
When we finally break apart for air—we both need it desperately—he presses his forehead to mine. His breathing is as ragged as mine. His lips brush against the corner of my mouth when he says, “You’re addictive, you know that?”
I laugh, soft and breathless. “I did, actually.”
He kisses the tip of my nose. “I want to go somewhere.”
I blink at him, still trying to remember how words work. “Where?”
He shrugs, one shoulder rolling easy and careless, but his eyes aren’t careless at all. They’re still on mine, warm and a little fierce. “I don’t know. Somewhere that’s not here. Somewhere just me and you.” A pause. His thumb traces the line of my jaw. “Anywhere with you.”
My heart does this stupid little leap in my chest, the kind of thing I usually roll my eyes at when it comes to the movies. I can feel it all the way up in my throat, and I know I’m probably looking at him like he just handed me the moon, but I honestly can’t help it.
I flash him a mischievous grin. “I know just the place.”