Chapter 41 #2
Then the spark returns, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a way that makes my stomach flutter. “But just so you know,” he adds, leaning in slightly, his breath warm against my cheek, “a little less hesitation and a little more kissing wouldn’t be the worst thing.”
I take a deep breath, the closeness of him stealing the air from my lungs.
My hands rest against his chest, his solid heat beneath my fingertips sending tingles up my arms. When our lips meet, the world tilts, a shiver coursing down my spine as the kiss deepens.
Our movements are unhurried but charged, our tongues teasing, exploring, learning each other all over again. It feels like coming home.
His hands slide along my waist, his fingers curling against the fabric of my shirt.
When he pulls me closer, the possessiveness in his touch is matched only by its gentleness.
It’s a contradiction that leaves me breathless.
His arm wraps around my back, anchoring me to him as his lips trail to my jawline, the softness of each kiss sending goosebumps cascading over my skin.
The desire radiating off him is a perfect reflection of the fire burning inside me. It’s as if every moment of stress, every worry of the past few weeks, melts away.
“God, I’ve missed this.”
His voice is rough, almost broken, as he whispers against my neck. My throat tightens. My heart feels like it’s about to burst, but words are useless right now.
His lips brush over my skin, trailing lower, leaving a path of heat in their wake. When he reaches my collarbone, his lips linger, and my knees threaten to give out. There’s nothing but the feeling of his mouth on me and the way he presses into me like I’m the only thing holding him up.
His grip turns possessive, but his touch is still careful, like he’s balancing on the edge of restraint.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I’m not thinking about anything but us and how we’re supposed to be.
My fingers slip into his hair. I tug gently, just enough to bring his mouth back to mine. “I’ve missed you, too,” I breathe against his lips.
And then he smiles. God, that smile.
It’s affection and heat crashing together. Like he’s starving yet savoring this at the same time.
But then Callan winces, his body tensing against mine. I freeze, my heart skipping a beat as I pull back, worry rushing in to replace the bliss from just seconds ago.
“Are you okay?” I ask quickly, my hands moving to his shoulders as I search his face. “Did I hurt you?”
He shakes his head, a half smile tugging at his lips. “Nah, just a little twinge. It’s nothing.”
I take him in. There’s pain in his eyes that he’s trying to mask. I take a small step back. “We should slow down.”
His hand moves quickly to mine, pulling me gently back toward him. His thumb brushes over my knuckles in slow, soothing circles. “You’re not making anything worse,” he murmurs. “I promise, it’s just a little soreness. Nothing I can’t handle.”
I raise an eyebrow, still not entirely convinced. “You need to sit anyway. Come on,” I say, slipping my hand under his arm to help guide him to the couch. He goes willingly, though I don’t miss the slight wince he tries to hide as he lowers himself down.
“Fine.” He sinks into the couch, his broad shoulders filling the space as if it was made just for him. His legs spread, one arm draped over the back of the cushions, the other resting on his thigh. God help me, I can’t look away.
“I won’t argue,” he continues. “But just so you know, my face is fine. In case you wanted to sit on it later.”
“Callan!”
He grins. “You love me.”
“Maybe,” I say, pretending to consider it as I sit beside him. “Or maybe I just keep you around for your charming accent.”
His deep chuckle rumbles through the room, and before I can react, his arm snakes around my shoulders, pulling me firmly against his side. His heat seeps into me, and I can’t help but melt a little. “I’ll take it, lass,” he says. “Whatever keeps you by my side.”
I lean my head against his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent. “Hey,” I say softly, my fingers absently trailing up his forearm. “I was just talking to my parents. Guess what.”
He leans down, brushing a featherlight kiss against my temple. “Mm, what?”
“My parents are coming to visit soon, and they’re bringing Nugget.”
Callan’s whole face lights up at the mention of Nugget, the discomfort I remember from their first meeting nowhere to be found. “The wee terror himself! I can’t wait to see how he takes to Scotland. Think he’ll remember me?”
“Are you kidding? He probably dreams about you,” I tease. “You’re the only one who lets him get away with stealing food off the table.”
“Ah, he’s just got good taste,” he says with a wink. “So, your parents, too?
I nod, warmth blooming in my chest at the thought of them being here. “Yeah, I’m so excited for them to be here. Oh, shoot.” I pause, the realization hitting me. “I should’ve asked first. Is it okay if they stay with us?”
He turns his eyes to mine, and the affection in his gaze pulls me in completely. “Bree, of course they can stay here. You don’t need to ask.”
Relief washes over me, and I press my mouth to his. My lips linger until I feel the hitch of his breath. Then I tilt just enough, letting my tongue trace the seam of his lips until his mouth parts for me.
When I finally pull back, his eyes are still closed like he’s chasing the ghost of it.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He groans. “You keep doing that, and I’m gonna end up fucking you right here. Or…well. You might be fucking me, since I can’t really move”
I let out a laugh. “Behave yourself, sir.”
He leans back against the couch with a theatrical groan, throwing his head back like he’s been mortally wounded.
“You’re killing me here, lass. One minute, I’m trying to be a gentleman, and the next, you’ve got me all worked up.
” He presses a hand to his chest, shooting me an exaggerated look of despair. “I might need some pain meds for this.”
I roll my eyes and laugh, but the sound dies off when I notice the way he shifts, like even sitting upright costs him.
His hand moves to his ribs, lingering there a second too long. It’s not part of the act.
I ease down beside him. “Hey,” I say, quieter now. “Jokes are fine. But let’s get you through this first, okay?”
He doesn’t answer, just nods once, his gaze dropping as if the pain’s finally catching up to him.
I sit there for a moment, watching this man who jokes through broken ribs and pretends nothing hurts.
But it does. I can see it, even when he tries to hide it.
And the truth is… I’m not fine, either. Not while he’s like this.