Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
SAbrINA
C ool? Awesome? That’s what I said? Even thinking about it made me want to cringe. I wanted to jump him right then and scream, “Yes!” in his face. Instead, I’d said, “Cool.”
Cal’s lips twitched with restrained laughter, which triggered my flight-or-fight response. I scurried away like a scared bunny, exclaiming, “Oh, I want to go to the top of that waterfall!”
Everything went downhill from there. Twelve minutes later, I was on the ground, sprawled out across the rocks that made the edge of the waterfall, soaking wet. I tried to push up, but my hand slipped on the wet rocks, and I got nowhere.
Cal held out his hand, offering to help me. His eyes danced with merriment.
“Don’t you dare say I told you so .” I slapped at his hand.
“I don’t have to; you just did.” A smirk popped up, but he had the good sense to wipe it off his face before I threw a handful of mud at him. “Can you stand?”
All I’d wanted to do was stand near the falls and put my hands in the water. Cal had warned me that the rocks might be slippery and advised against it. His words, “I advise against it, Reenie.” So cocksure. So bossy.
I had proceeded with caution and gotten to do exactly what I wanted and had been feeling super smug and cocky only to fall on the rocks as I was trying to make my way back to the not-as-slippery grass. My previously injured ankle was still weak, so when I’d started to slide, the ankle had offered no support. My butt—my entire backside really—was soaked, and my ankle was throbbing.
“Don’t you dare laugh at me. Busting my ass isn’t funny.” I slapped my hands against the shallow water in frustration.
He gave a clipped nod. “Though it was a spectacular busting of the ass. How is it you can look pretty, falling?”
The spray from the waterfall had dampened my hair, and now strands clung to my face. I was muddy and wet and knew my face had to be a hundred shades of red. But his words were sweet.
“I’m not so vapid that calling me pretty will make me feel better.” Mostly. It did make me feel a little better.
“I never thought you were vapid. It was simply an observation.” His arms were akimbo as he studied me.
“Thanks, though. I appreciate the compliment.”
“Can you stand?” He was still on the safe grass at the edge of the rocks.
I tried to adjust to stand, but my hands lost purchase. “I think if I flip over to my knees and crawl, I can get off the rocks. How humiliating is that?”
Cal opened his mouth to say something, a flash of lightning lit the space, followed by an ear-deafening crack of thunder, which shook the ground. Have I been sitting in the water so long the storm caught up? I had been careless, and he had been right, and now I was going to get struck by lightning and die out here. At least the backdrop was lovely. But the universe had to hate me if it was going to let Cal Beckett be the last person I ever saw before I’d had a chance to jump Cal version 2.0 and see what that was like.
Irony, thy name is karma.
There was another flash, and hand to God, I thought maybe the bolt had struck near us. The boom that followed made the water tremble. I looked at Cal as I butt-scooted toward him, my hands and feet sliding. I had stayed back from the edge of the falls because I knew that had to be the slipperiest, but when I caught air, I’d landed right on the edge.
I was literally living on the edge, constantly fighting the rush of the water as it maniacally ran toward the precipice to create a waterfall. Though the drop wasn’t that high, maybe ten feet, I did not feel like taking a plunge. It was bad enough that my jeans were wet, the feeling of such grossed me out.
But getting struck by lightning while being in a pool of water made wet jeans look like a nonissue. Getting electrocuted would dry those jeans right up, like a speed cycle on high heat, and my clothes and I would be cooked.
Cal looked in the direction of where I’d thought the lightning had struck, and he then stomped out to where I was but stayed away from the edge. “Give me your hands!” he barked.
I did, and he pulled me toward him. When I was closer to him than to the drop-off, he scooped me up, one arm around my back, the other under my knees. And he did it so effortlessly. He didn’t even need to toss me slightly to readjust me. If I had been standing, I would have swooned.
Fat raindrops began to pelt the earth.
“Please don’t fall,” I pleaded as I clung to him.
If we got stuck out here, would we have to fight off wildlife. I’d heard stories about elks attacking people. And there were bears. Oh, my word, bears. Cal might not have seen any, but that didn’t mean they weren’t out there, because why else would Cal have bear spray?
He made getting back to not-slippery land easy. In three large steps, we were there. “We need to get to the shelter. I don’t want to be out in this. Can you stand?” he asked.
Our faces were so close, and his body was so warm. Mine was cold from the water. Goose bumps covered my skin. “I think so,” I said.
He eased me down to a stand. “You really twisted your ankle when you fell.”
I tested putting equal weight on both feet and gasped in pain, lifting my injured leg up immediately as I used his chest for balance. “I think that’s a no on the standing.”
Truth be told, as embarrassed as I was, if a girl was going to get hurt in the woods during a thunderstorm, there were worse people to be stuck with. My friend Nick for one. He had zero survival skills or instinct. Then there was Jace. He would be very confident in this situation, as he’d been raised in this forest, and so would most of my friends in Wyoming. So okay, maybe it was no big deal that Cal was with me. I was lucky I had so many capable friends. But regardless, I was glad Cal was here. Protecting me was where he excelled, and I felt like I needed some protection.
Lightning flashed. He turned his back to me. “Hurry, get on.”
I climbed him like he was a tree, scurrying right up like a squirrel looking for a hole to hide in, and held on for dear life, burying my face into the crook of his neck as the thunder rolled across the land. “We’re going to die!” I cried.
I didn’t know why I was so scared. I lived in Texas. Hurricanes, hello. But I was usually indoors and wearing warm clothes during those.
Cal chuckled but didn’t waste a second getting out of the open space. He paused only long enough to grab his pack and cooler before heading farther up the trail. I looked up to see where we were going, and ahead of us was a worn-out-looking hunting shack. If I were honest, shack was too good a word for it. He made good time, and we only had to endure two more flashes of lightning before we were in the cabin and Cal was latching the door behind us. The place smelled musty and a little like body odor, a remnant of all the dirty hunters who had passed through.
He pressed my back against a wall for support. “You can get down now. But hold on to me so you don’t have to put weight on your ankle.”
I slid down him like rain on a window, slow and clingy. I put my hands on his waist as I balanced myself. He dropped the stuff he’d been carrying, did a half turn, and flung a long arm over my head to rest against the wall.
When I stopped wobbling, he turned fully and placed his other hand on my hip. “You good?”
My hands were on his waist, and his face was close as he bent down to hear me over the heavy raindrops beating against the wood shack. I moved my hands to his shoulders and looked up, meeting his gaze. His brow was knitted with concern, his eyes dark and questioning. Where his fingers steadied me, heat moved like a current from him and surged through my body.
Am I good? Hard to say.
Parts of me were fine. Small, insignificant parts. Other parts, like my racing heart and my mind with its naughty ideas, were out of control.
A drop of water rolled down the side of his neck, and without thinking, I licked it off him, dragging my tongue along his skin. Cal groaned and not in a way that said he was annoyed. As I pulled back, his hand brushed away wet strands of hair stuck to my face. I shivered with longing.
“You cold?” His voice was a hoarse whisper. One hand held me steady as the other brushed up and down my arm, trying to warm me and chase away the goose bumps that textured my skin.
I shook my head, unable to speak.
He swiped his thumb across my lower lip. “You have goose bumps, and your lips are pale.”
“That’s not why I shivered.”
His eyes flared with heat. “We have to get this boot off you to look at your ankle.”
“It’s just an ankle. I have another one.”
He smirked. Leaning in, he whispered gruffly, “I might have to take your pants off to see the whole ankle.” His hand brushed against my leg, going under my knee. “Let the wall support you.” He lifted my leg, running his big hand up the back part of it, and held it up.
If I’d been limber enough, I would have thrown that leg over this man’s shoulder, because I suddenly wanted his hands everywhere, not just on my leg. I sagged against the wall, letting go of his shoulders to place my hands on the wall behind me.
The hand on my hip slid up and under my wet shirt. He shifted toward my injured leg and moved his hand to my ankle, sliding into my boot, my calf on his forearm. He didn’t even look like he was straining from the weight.
“Maybe we should leave all this on. What if keeping the boot on is helping with the swelling?” His fingers lightly probed my ankle.
I hissed, and his eyes went to mine. “Just tender,” I said.
Then his eyes dropped to my lips, and he leaned forward and lightly brushed a kiss across them. A wave of desire slammed into me so hard I gripped the wood wall, my nails digging out splinters. This man, this idiot who’d broken my heart and left behind an emptiness I hadn’t yet found a way to fill—he simply did it for me. There was no greater truth than that. It was the way he moved smoothly and with ease, the touch of his hands, soft yet firm, and his outdoorsy yet manly smell with a top note of cedar and a down note of bergamot.
“I’m so wet,” I said. Heat flushed my face when his gaze snapped to me. “My clothes. My clothes are wet from my shirt to my jeans. It’s not comfortable.”
His hand was still under my thigh as he slowly straightened, holding my gaze. “I don’t want just this, Reenie. This one time. I want no regrets. I want to put my hands on you so damn much it’s making me insane. But I want us to be on the same page.”
I’d seriously underestimated my feelings. I’d thought time had dulled us to a pale black-and-white. But the last few weeks together had painted over the old us with new, shiny, bright colors, and in this space, with him so close, his hands on my body, I could barely breathe for wanting him.
“We are on the same page,” I whispered.
“It might kill me if you change your mind.”
“I won’t. I have never regretted you, Cal, and I have no regrets now, nor will I tomorrow.”
His breathing was shallow, his pupils dilated. “You are so fucking beautiful.”
He slanted his mouth over mine hesitantly, but when I raked my teeth across his lower lip, he went all in. He kissed me like there was no tomorrow. As lightning flashed outside, our hands reacquainted themselves with each other’s bodies, finding all the favorite parts and making hasty reintroductions. He dropped to his knees, bracing my leg against his shoulder, and undid the buttons to my shirt. He spread it wide.
“I have to get a condom.” His mouth grazed my belly button.
“You brought condoms?”
He stared up at me. “I was hopeful.”
I bit my lip and smiled. “There’s one in my front pocket.”
His nostrils flared, his eyes going wide.
“What?” I said. “I was hopeful too. Though I’m not really worried about getting pregnant, and I haven’t been with anyone in a long time. Clean doctor reports. In case you were wondering.”
I ran my hands over his shoulders, then made hasty work of releasing all the buttons. He pulled both his flannel shirt and T-shirt off. His chest, no lie, was unreal—all defined muscle. To say he had a twenty-four pack would be an exaggeration but would paint the correct picture. The man was ripped.
He had beautiful carved muscles and tanned skin. I ran my hands across the hard planes, pausing at the healing wound, which was a healthy pink scar. I dropped a kiss onto it.
“Same, though I’m certain I can’t get pregnant,” he said with a chuckle.
His eyes asked the question, and I nodded. Consent.
In a flash, he’d flipped out the blanket and had me on the floor in the middle of it. Cal knelt between my legs, drew off my shirt, and tossed it to the side. His hands went to my boobs and cupped them. “I love when you wear red. Holy fuck, I missed these.”
And he buried his head between them. All I could do was cling to him for dear life because I was spiraling out of control. He pulled away and put his hand on my thigh.
“I have to take the boot off.” He cupped my booted foot. “If you want to take those wet jeans off.”
The way he said wet was so dirty I nearly unraveled and tore my jeans from my body like the hulk rips off his shirt. “Hurry,” I said.
And in one swift motion and a hiss from me, he tugged my boot off and eased my leg back down, rubbing my calf to take my mind off the ache. I’d taken the other off at the same time. I went to the snap on my jeans, but he knocked my hands away.
“I do that.” His voice was gravelly. “Please.”
“But you’re going so slow,” I whined.
“I want to savor every moment.” He undid my jeans and slid down the zipper, his eyes on me the entire time.
I watched his every move, biting my lower lip at how erotic being stripped by him felt. With his talented hands, and my skilled mouth, we explored like two lucky people who had found the hidden holy land. My vision swam as he clamped his mouth over one nipple and sucked, wrenching a moan from me.
“You are everything,” he whispered as he traveled kisses to my other boob, then gave that one the same attention he’d given the other, showing me with his mouth and tongue how much he needed me.
“My pants,” I whimpered. He reached for the wet denim, and I arched to help him take them off. His warm hands grazed, down my thighs as he worked off my pants and I dug my nails into his shoulder from the pleasure of his touch. Then he took my hands, placed them together, and held them over my head with one hand. He was in charge, and this was all for me. That was what holding my hands away, not letting me touch him, meant.
Plus, it drove me wild. When Cal loved me, he loved me right. I felt worshiped and cherished and was desperate to show him the same.
His free hand slipped between my legs, and when he touched me, I was electrified and bucked. I wrapped my legs around his waist to draw him in closer as I ground into his hand.
He moaned, “Lord, I’ve missed you.” His voice cracked with emotion, his lips on my neck as his trembling hand spun magic with his knowing touches.
And when I couldn’t take any more, I begged for him. Then he slid into me, his hands lifting me from underneath to change the angle and push his hips into mine, going deep as he filled me.
Sex with Cal had been one reason why losing him had hurt so badly, and for so long, because with him, I was complete. No one had ever loved me like this. Sex had never come close to being an out-of-body experience like it was with Cal. So much was right with the way our bodies fit together, how he knew what angle to tilt my hips to hit my hot spot. I choked back a sob at the tremendous pleasure of it all.
He fisted one hand in the back of my hair, and the other stayed under me as we moved together, Cal saying my name over and over again. And as the thunder crashed outside, the lightning between us combusted, sending a forceful current through us as we took each other to the place we’d both longed to go from the moment our eyes had met in his office.