8. Melanie #2
It doesn’t help that I know what his lips feel like on me, softer than they seem, and how just last night he blazed a searing path over my face and down my body, not leaving a single inch of me unexplored by his mouth, teeth, and tongue.
I can still feel the way his hair caressed my inner thighs, his broad shoulders pushing me wide open, those bronzed eyes filled with an intense hunger that never seems to be satisfied.
There’s still an ache between my thighs when I move, and bruises on my hips from when his large, calloused hands gripped my hips, holding me in place for his rough thrusts.
“Mom?”
“Hm?”
“What’s wrong with your face?”
I jerk in my seat, reality crashing back in like a bucket of icy water being tipped over my head. We’re still sitting in the car, and I’m white-knuckling the steering wheel. A quick glance in the rearview mirror shows too-bright eyes and my cheeks flushed with heat.
I cough, my voice tight as I avoid looking at my eight-year-old. “Nothing’s wrong with my face. Come on. We need to figure out what’s for dinner.”
“Spaghetti,” he says firmly, sliding out of the car and slamming the door closed before I can argue. The two men look up as we approach, and I try to ignore the way Cale’s expression warms, his mouth curving up.
“Good timing,” he says in lieu of greeting. “Looks like we’re all finished.”
I pause, surprised, looking between the two of them.
“You’re done?” My eyes flit over their shoulders to the house, uneasiness clutching at my chest before I paint a smile across my face. “Well, that’s great news. Hear that, bug? We can sleep in our own beds tonight.” Cale’s eyes darken briefly before his lashes flutter, hiding them.
“Oh.” Oakley is frowning, looking unsure.
I give him a reassuring smile. “This is a good thing, Oak. It’ll be nice to be back in our place, right? And I’m looking forward to not having your big flippers kicking me all night.”
He gives me a cheeky grin.
“It’s not that. It’s just…Cale said we could watch that movie tonight. The one with giant robots and explosions.” He stares up at the man in question hopefully, and I brace myself, preparing to deal with a disappointed kid.
Before I can let him down gently, Cale says, “So, I did.” He winks down at Oakley.
“And our plans don’t need to change just because the location does.
I need to show your mom how to use the new alarm anyway, so I’ll just come watch it at your place.
” He leans down, whispering conspiratorially, “You got popcorn, right?” Oakley nods, eyes bright and eager.
“Good, because I’ve got M&M’s. Can’t have one without the other, right? ”
“Right,” Oakley breathes out. I curse inwardly, visibly able to see the hero worship burning bright in his eyes. He was already obsessed with the guy, but Cale riding in to save our asses, making promises of games and movies…It’s making everything worse.
We need some distance before this becomes a problem, because Oakley already has one man in his life who keeps letting him down. I’m not opening the door for Cale to be another one.
As he straightens, Cale locks eyes with mine, one brow cocking when he catches the irritation on my face. He watches me closely before humor fills his stare, and he steps closer, leaning down to brush a kiss across my cheek, murmuring, “I’ll be back over in an hour or two.”
He saunters off, and Garth gives me a curious look before he follows, leaving me standing there with an excited kid and that ball of tension unfurling into a solid heat that sinks low in my stomach.
“Come on, Mom!” Oakley calls. I look back at him, seeing that he’s already skipping up the steps of the house. “Let’s go check it out!”
Swallowing thickly, I follow him, unable to shake the sense that any distance I force now will already be coming too late.
“I don’t know why Cale couldn’t come with us,” Oakley grumbles behind me, and I don’t have to look to know that he’s still got his arms crossed and a mutinous expression on his face.
The school has blocked off the parking lot, leaving the large space open for everyone to set up their stalls for the bake sale. We make our way past the first few, Oakley dragging his feet while I smile in greeting at people I know.
“He’s not interested in coming to a school bake sale,” I remind Oakley quietly, slowing down until he reaches my side. “And remember, he said he wouldn’t start the yard work until you get back.”
Oakley grunts sullenly. I avert my face as I roll my eyes. It’s been just over a week since the break-in and, for the most part, he’s been really resilient, but in moments like these, I can see the toll it’s all taken on him.
I press a hand to his shoulder, squeezing gently.
“Look over there,” I urge, pointing with my finger.
“Frothy Cakes has a stall, and Nell’s already there.
You think there’ll be some lemon bars?” The line for the stall is easily the biggest one in the parking lot.
It’s not a surprise. The bakery is the best one around for miles, and the owner, Jamie Walker, is a hometown sweetheart of Sterling Creek.
There’s a war going on behind Oakley’s stormy eyes as he struggles to hold onto his foul mood. It takes several painstaking seconds before his desire for a sweet treat wins. He sighs, his shoulder loosening under my hand.
“I hope there is,” he mutters. “Can we go there first?”