20. Callum #2
“That’s Corona Sarina,” she says, her voice taking on a storytelling tone, like an ancient myth told around a campfire.
“Local legend says she was a witch queen centuries ago who fell in love with a mortal man from across the sea. The universe gave them one single summer together before the tides were meant to pull him back home. They fought it, of course. Tried every spell, every piece of magic to pause time, to stretch one summer into a lifetime.”
She pauses, her fingers gently twining with mine where my hand rests on her leg.
“Did it work?” I ask quietly.
Winifred lets out a bittersweet laugh. “No. Time moved on anyway. Because magic can bend a lot of things, Callum, but it can’t stop the clock.
When he had to leave, she plucked the crown from her head and threw it into the sky so he’d always have a map to find his way back to her, no matter how far away he went. ”
She turns her head back toward me, her face inches from mine in the starlight-dappled darkness of the abandoned room.
“It’s a cautionary tale,” she whispers, a tiny, teasing smirk trying to cover the sudden depth in her eyes. “A reminder that there’s never enough damn time, no matter how much you wish for it.”
I tighten my grip on her hip, pulling her a fraction closer until there’s no space left between us at all.
“Then we better not waste it,” I say, and lean in to kiss her again.
Her mouth parts against mine instantly, hot and soft. She smells like honey and wildflowers, the way summer smells right before a thunderstorm rolls in. I can’t get enough of it.
I cup the back of her head, my fingers tangling in her silky smooth hair, holding her right where I want her, angling her so I can deepen the kiss. She kisses the way she does everything else—with her whole damn self. Like she’s not holding anything back.
My other hand grips her waist, thumb pressing into the soft curve of her hip. She makes a noise against my mouth—low and approving—and I swallow it like it’s oxygen.
Then she shifts, and I realize what she’s doing a second before she does it.
She swings one leg over, then the other, turning in my lap until she’s straddling me.
Her knees settle on either side of my hips, the fabric of her dress riding up her legs, and the weight of her, the heat of her, the way she’s pressed against me—
“Fuck,” I breathe against her mouth.
She laughs. “Good fuck or bad fuck?”
“Very good fuck.”
She grins, and then she’s kissing me again, and I can’t think.
I can only feel. The slide of her tongue against mine.
The way her hips shift, settling more firmly against me.
The pressure of her body, warm and solid and so perfectly aligned with my own it feels like she was made to fit here.
I drag my hands down her spine, my palms gripping the full curve of her waist to keep her anchored against me.
I break the kiss first, dragging my mouth along her jaw, down the column of her throat. She tilts her head back, giving me more access, and I take it. I kiss the spot where her pulse flutters beneath her skin. I suck gently, and she gasps. “Callum—”
Her thighs tighten around me as she starts rolling her hips against mine, and I groan against her neck. The sound she makes in response is desperate. Needy. Her fingers slide into my hair, tugging gently, and she does it again, a slow grind that makes my head swim.
“Win.” My voice is rough. “Win, you’re going to—”
“I know.” She’s breathless. “I know, I just—I can’t help it. You feel so good.”
Her hands slide down my chest, over my stomach, and I feel the brush of her fingers against the buckle of my belt. She fumbles with it, her nails scraping against the leather, and I grab her jaw with one hand, pulling her mouth back to mine.
“I better help you out of these before you ruin them,” she murmurs breathlessly against my lips, her thumb tugging at the leather strap. “Because you’re definitely not wearing my dress home.”
A short laugh erupts from my chest, my breath hot against her cheek. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
I trail my lips down to her collarbone, nipping gently at the soft skin. “Never,” she breathes out, her fingers still clumsily working at the buckle.
I move my hand over hers, stilling her fingers. “Win.” I say it against her mouth, soft. “We don’t have to do that.”
She pulls back. Her lips are swollen, pink and shiny, and her cheeks are flushed. Her hair is a mess, falling around her shoulders. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“I like being with you,” I say. “Just being with you. I didn’t bring you here because I expected sex.” I reach up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just wanted to spend time with you.”
She nods. Her fingers trace the gold chain around my neck, following it down to where it disappears beneath my collar. Then they drift up, brushing against my mustache, and I can’t help the twitch of my lips.
“I know that,” she says softly. “I do.” Her fingers trace the line of my jaw, and she leans in, kissing the corner of my mouth.
“But I want to,” she says. Her lips trail along my jaw, and I feel the ghost of her breath against my skin. “I want to, Callum.”
She kisses my neck, and I tilt my head back, closing my eyes. Her lips are soft, leaving a trail of heat wherever they touch. Her hips shift against mine again, and I’m very aware that ruining my pants is becoming a real possibility.
“Careful,” I say, and my voice comes out strained. “Win.”
“Like I said, I can’t help it,” she murmurs against my throat. “My magic likes this. Us together. I can feel it.” She pulls back, just enough to look at me. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide. “I know that sounds crazy. But I can feel it.”
The starlight from the broken roof reflects in her eyes. “If you don’t want to, I’d never pressure you,” she says softly, her fingers resting lightly against my chest. “But I want to. I want you.”
I don’t waste another second. My hands slide up the back of her thighs, bunching the silk of her burgundy dress until it’s pushed up past her hips. She shivers, a full-body tremor, as my thumbs skim the soft skin of her inner thigh.
Her hands go under my shirt, impatient, and she starts tugging it up. I help, yanking it over my head and tossing it somewhere into the dark. Her eyes roam hungrily over me.
“Jesus,” she whispers.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just…” She traces a finger down my sternum, following the line of hair. “You’re really fucking attractive. Did you know that?”
I laugh. “I might have heard a rumor.”