Chapter 18
eighteen
brEE
I’ve never felt this free. This alive. Hell, at this point, I’m not sure I’ve ever actually felt before.
I’d let this man ruin me in every way imaginable.
He moves, shifting to the edge of the bed, and the loss is immediate.
A whimper slips out before I can stop it, because good god, the ache is unbearable, like something vital has been ripped away.
“Easy, Sunshine.” He scoops me up effortlessly, carrying me into the en suite like I weigh nothing. My brain? Nowhere to be found. My body? Fully at his mercy.
He sets me on the counter, his warmth leaving a ghost of itself on my skin, and I can’t do anything but watch, helplessly mesmerized as he adjusts the water.
Patient. Unhurried. Like he has all the time in the world.
If it were me, I’d be throwing the damn thing to full blast and climbing him like a tree, but he waits, completely in control.
Finally, he comes back to me and slides his hands underneath my thighs. My legs, apparently having a mind of their own, wrap around him instantly. I could probably be mad about that if I wasn’t so damn distracted by how perfectly he fits against me.
As soon as we step into the shower, there’s no doubt that round two is no longer a possibility… It’s inevitable. My body knows it. His body knows it. The universe probably knows it, too.
Steam wraps around us, clinging to me, hot and heavy, as I finally find my feet on the cool tile.
The water’s scalding, but it feels like pure heaven.
It pours over us in a steady cascade, trailing between us and over every inch of our skin.
I’m trying really hard not to get distracted by the way he looks standing there, water running down his torso and the muscles that never seem to quit, but here I am. Completely distracted. Again.
I may or may not be drooling. This man is fine.
I can’t help it. My arms curl around his neck, pulling him closer, because I need him. I need his lips and his body against mine, right now.
He groans into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me and all the way down to my toes.
That low, rough noise just might shatter me in the best way.
When I think I might lose control, he pulls back, his hands sliding down my spine with a slow, deliberate touch that’s almost too much to handle.
They settle on my ass, squeezing gently.
“I brought you in here to take care of you, lass,” he mutters. “Not to fuck you up against a wall.”
I can’t help the grin that pulls at my lips, even though my pulse is thundering in my ears. “I guess I could be cool with either option.”
“You’re insatiable,” he murmurs. Before I can blink, he spins me around.
His hands are sure as they reach for the shampoo, and I swear, I shiver from the mere brush of his fingers through my hair. It’s so gentle, so tender, as he massages the shampoo into my scalp.
I should be lost in it. I am lost in it, but then a soft ache creeps in behind my ribs. This is so sweet. Too sweet. My heart can’t quite keep up, and it physically hurts with the thought that this is fleeting.
I’m leaving. This has an expiration date stamped clean across it. Still, his hands are in my hair, and he’s being so careful with me.
I want to tell him not to stop. To keep doing this. Keep looking at me like I mean something. Even if it’s only for now. Even if it’s only until I pack my bags and get on a plane.
I want it all to last. And I hate myself a little for wanting.
I don’t pull away, though. I stay there, letting him rinse my hair, his hands working with such care. He lathers my body with slow, careful hands, and in between each touch, he presses kisses to my shoulders, my neck.
Somehow, amidst the quiet ache, I lose myself in the softness of his kisses.
When the water finally shuts off, the loss of his touch is too sudden, but he wraps a warm towel around me and takes my hand. I follow him into the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, my heart still fluttering as he pulls on a pair of boxer briefs and nothing else.
God. The sight of him, half dressed and ridiculously sexy, does things to me that probably shouldn’t be legal.
Heat flares low in my stomach, and a pulse races in places it definitely shouldn’t.
He’s completely oblivious. He throws me a casual glance over his shoulder, like he’s the most dangerous thing in the room.
“Here, lass.” He hands me one of his shirts, and my skin heats up like I’ve been left in the sun too long. It’s a shirt, but the way he gives it to me? It’s a gift. I’m not giving it back. “Put this on and meet me in the living room.”
I’m already halfway melting. There’s no point in trying to hide the effect he’s having on me. “Yes, sir.”
His eyes smolder, but that smirk—oh, that smirk—plays across his face like he’s got some sort of secret master plan, already two steps ahead and perfectly aware of exactly what he’s doing to me.
Without saying another word, he strides out of the room, leaving me hot and bothered.
I slip into his shirt, the fabric swallowing me, and follow him. I’m still trying to catch my breath from this whirlwind of…whatever the hell this is as I step into the main living area, and freeze.
There’s Callan, casually prepping tea like it’s the most normal thing in the world. The kettle’s whistling, steam rising, and he moves with such ease, like we didn’t just have the most mind-blowing, earth-shattering sex a few minutes ago.
Is this real life? I have to blink because there’s no way this is real. This man, who just completely wrecked me in the best possible way, is now making me tea. What kind of alternate universe have I stepped into?
He turns to face me with a mug in his hand, and time slows as he hands it to me, the heat seeping through the porcelain and into my palms.
I make my way to the couch, my legs a little wobbly, and pull a blanket over my lap as I sink into the cushions. The moment I settle, it hits me how perfect everything feels. Outside, the village and river glimmer beneath the moonlight. It’s romantic as hell.
He slides in beside me, his leg brushing against mine under the blanket. The casual closeness makes my heart flutter, like it’s double-checking I’m still breathing. Because if this is real, then it’s the kind of life I never want to wake up from.
He clears his throat, shifting beside me. “I don’t know how to bring this up, but uh…” He hesitates for a beat before continuing, his voice dropping a little. “We didn’t use protection.”
The seriousness in his gaze would probably be alarming in any other situation, but right now?
It’s kind of funny. I can’t help the laugh that bubbles up.
It’s sweet, really, that he’s worried. This man, who just brought me to the edge of oblivion and back without a second thought, is now concerned about… well, this.
I can’t help but smile at him, the tension easing a little. “We’re okay. I’ve got us covered. As long as you don’t have something I need to worry about…?”
“Christ, no, lass. No, not at all.” His voice is filled with pure relief.
“Perfect.” I grin over the rim of my mug. “Then we can do that again, and again…and again.”
His rich laugh fills the room, and before I can process it, he’s pulling me into his side. His arm wraps around me, strong and steady and I rest my head on his shoulder, inhaling the scent of leather and spice that’s unmistakably him. Comforting, familiar, and yet always just a little intoxicating.
There’s a calm that settles over me as I close my eyes, the rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek grounding me in a way nothing else ever has. This is happiness. Simple, but real. More real than anything I’ve felt in a long time.
His presence is everything. The echo of his laugh still rings in my mind, and this closeness between us, how we fit together perfectly, just feels right. This is where I’m supposed to be.
I will be forever grateful for the way Callan put me at ease yesterday.
I feel like a brand-new woman. One who’s been thoroughly fucked.
Bent over the edge of the couch, on the kitchen counter, in the shower…
and just now, in the truck because I couldn’t wait.
Honestly, I almost had my way with him right there in the middle of the pub.
The way he looks at me like he’d set the whole damn world on fire to keep me warm is enough to make a girl lose all sense of public decency.
No complaints here, though.
However, reality is creeping in like an unwelcome third wheel, and I don’t like it. We’re not technically a thing, and yet, the thought of leaving tomorrow hits like a sucker punch to the ribs. Rude.
It’s stupid how much I want to stay. The pull is so strong it feels like my whole body is in on it, like my heart and bones have already made the decision and are just waiting for my brain to catch up.
The idea of walking away isn’t just sad.
It’s a betrayal to something I don’t even have words for yet.
I’m such an idiot. I did this to myself. This is reckless. It’s hard not to feel like I’m standing on the edge of something that could be so much more. I know I should take a step back—if only my brain had a clue what was good for me.
Who am I kidding? I’m not going to do that.
We’re lying in bed, and it’s as natural as breathing. Like we’ve been doing this for years and could keep doing it for a million more. His body fits against mine like it was made to be here, our breaths syncing without effort.
And maybe that’s why it hits me just how different this is.
With Dillon, I think there were signs long before things went south. His temper would flare over nothing when he drank. Those arguments always ended with me apologizing, even when I wasn’t sure what for. It was never bad enough to realize how easily it could spiral into something worse.