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Whatever it is, I’ve lost it. All that time spent in my own head, working my shit out, none of it matters.
What was the damn point?
The anger comes out of nowhere, and it’s all I can do to keep from trashing Callahan’s bathroom. I breathe through it, wondering if this is how he feels all the damn time, so furious at the world and everything in it you could split your own skin. Fingers gripping the side of the sink, I don’t hear the door open behind me.
The touch starts out soft, tentatively sliding up my back, around my ribs, her hand flattening over my abdomen.
Callie presses her cheek to my back, hugging me tight. My grip on the sink tightens as her hand moves south.
“Now is not a good time,” I mutter, clenching my teeth as she wraps her fingers around the thick root of an erection I hadn’t noticed before now.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she says softly, her hand beginning to move.
“Maybe you should be.”
I feel her shaking her head, the tips of her hair lashing my skin. Her lips press tiny, chaste kisses along my spine and I snap.
Gripping her hands, I turn, reversing our positions and propping her up on the sink. The steam billows around us. I shove her knees open, waiting for her to stop me, searching for any sign she’s lying to me, that she’s scared, or that she doesn’t want this.
Her eyes are as wide open as the rest of her, offering herself up to me. She takes me deep in one thrust and cries out when I pound into her harder, taking what I need. Her fingers dig into the muscles of my arms, their scrabble for purchase darkly satisfying but not enough.
“More. Give me more.” I don’t recognize the sound of my own voice, but it doesn’t matter because when I fist a hand in her hair and tip her head back, Callie cries out, coming hard all over me, the scent of her body and our sex filling the room.
I drive her up again, as though watching her fall apart will somehow make me whole. Her hands are clinging now, holding on to my shoulders. Need and want and lust and love and that deep, abiding ache for someone who isn’t there volley between us until at last, my body is at peace.
It’s enough. It has to be enough.
Almost.
“It’s been two weeks,” says Cas. He hands me my coffee mug, full once more, and sits down on the couch next to me with his own. “Talk to me.”
“What are you talking about?” As if I don’t know. I’ve been avoiding this subject. And Cas, come to think of it. Silly to think he might not have noticed.
“Mercury is in retrograde and you’re on my couch again,” he says, patting my knee condescendingly. “Not that I don’t love having you here, but if I were sharing a bed with a couple of hotties like you are, I’d never be anywhere else if I could help it.”
I grunt. “What the hell is retrograde?”
“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” says Cas smoothly. “Stop stalling.”
I sigh. “We broke up. Sort of.”
“Oh, Raleigh.”
The story comes out in waves, like sheets of rain, bits of memories coming back all at once. God, we weren’t even together all that long.
It just felt like forever at the time.
I’m horrified to feel my eyes stinging with the threat of tears and glare at the mug in my hands.
“Anyway, that’s it. I still have Callie, thank God. She’s a rock,” I finish lamely. I left out the crazy emotional bathroom sex from last night. Cas doesn’t need to know everything.
“I’m sorry,” he says simply, squeezing my knee in sympathy.
“Thanks.”
“But seriously, fuck that guy.”
“What?”
