“I mean perfect.” Calvin kissed the side of my head.
I turned and squinted at the LED numbers of the clock. “Is it really seven o’clock?”
“Yes.”
“Dammit.”
Calvin made a sound of agreement under his breath. He pushed the blankets back, swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, and got to his feet. He chuckled as Dillon all but flew off the bed, barked excitedly, and ran to the hotel door.
“I’ll be right back,” he told me, putting on yesterday’s clothes and grabbing the dog leash.
“I’ll be here,” I answered, rolling onto my stomach.
When the door shut behind them, I lifted the pillow over my head to burrow underneath. I shut my eyes and dozed in and out of semiconsciousness a bit longer. The problem with being woken enough for me to form words was that there was typically little hope of falling asleep again. My brain was already problem-solving, asking questions, going over to-do lists….
I pushed up from the mattress and cocoon of moist, wet heat accumulating under the pillow. I got to my feet, stumbled to the bathroom, popped in my red-tinted contacts, and had started brushing my teeth when Calvin returned. I poked my head out of the room and squinted, watching his out-of-focus form pour kibble for Dillon and then strip naked. I moved from the doorway, bumping against the counter as I allowed Calvin to step inside. He pulled the shower curtain back, turned on the water, and got in.
I spit into the sink, rinsed my mouth, and asked, “Got room in there for a plus-one?”
“Sure,” Calvin answered. He opened the curtain once more in invitation.
I shucked off my pajamas and climbed in behind him. I put my fingertips on Calvin’s back and pressed against the rock-solid muscles. Flexing. Powerful. A warrior’s body. In a previous lifetime, he could have been a muse to classic Greek sculptors.
“What’re you thinking about?” Calvin asked over the water. He had his head in the stream, washing out shampoo.
“Greece.”
I picked up the complimentary soap and washcloth and lathered it up. I put it on Calvin’s chest as he turned and wiped water from his face. I got his chest hair nice and sudsy before moving on to his arms.Thismade my mind calm. Helped to slow everything in my head down. Allowed me to take a moment and smell the roses, so to speak. I’d nearly reached a state of absolute tranquility as I scrubbed, focusing on nothing more than the warm water and bubbles soaking freckle-splattered skin, when Calvin wrapped a hand around my throat. My breath caught when he squeezed lightly, and I looked up.
Calvin dragged his thumb across my lower lip. “Lather yourself,” he said just loud enough to be heard over the spray.
I swallowed against his hand, then lowered the cloth from his body, reached down, and began to soap my dick. I hadn’t been hard, hadn’t even considered a morning romp, but the way Calvin’s gaze followed my movements, the way his eyes narrowed as he appraised—approved—I might as well have woken up with this flagpole.
“Now me,” he ordered, giving my neck another gentle squeeze.
I didn’t respond. I wasn’t meant to. I blindly reached for Calvin, never looking away from his face, using touch alone to determine when he was properly soaped up. I dropped the washcloth to the floor, where it landed with a wetsplat.
Calvin closed what little space was left between us. He kept his hold on my throat and took our erections into his other hand. He tightened his grasp and gave us a quick, hard stroke. The angle wasn’t quite right, had I been jacking myself off, but his hard cock wet and rubbing against mine more than made up for it. Calvin kissed my mouth. He seemed to savor every breath I gasped for when he applied pressure to my neck.
“Good,” he murmured.
I reached up, putting my hands on his shoulders before moving them to his wet hair to give a tug.
Calvin kissed me again, tongue soft and warm and so fucking delicious. “You really areperfect,” he said. He sounded breathless. He sounded in love.
Calvin was the Watson to my Sherlock.
The jelly to my peanut butter.
Knight to my prince.
Calvin had me tilt my head back with the lightest touch of his thumb on my jaw. He kissed and nipped my lips, chin, earlobe. “You gonna come, baby?”
I weakly nodded. “Y-yes.”
He sped his hand up and squeezed my neck again while saying in my ear, “Say my name.”
I looked at his face—the strong angles, sharp eyes, and constellations of freckles. That one second between us held suspended. As if time stopped. And despite knowing twelve months ago that I’d found my soul mate, this force felt like a sudden revelation. It took my breath away. I loved Calvin. More than I could ever say. And his name was sacred.
