He lays me down on those clean sheets, telling me ahead of time again.
“I’m going to lay you down and then slowly peel the rest of your clothes off. I want to see you. I’ve been dying to see all of you for weeks, Dixon.”
Caleb peels the rest of my clothes off, telling me every step of the way, and somewhere in there, I stop needing the words for the safety of it and start wanting them for how they sound, low and dirty and only for me.
He pulls his own shirt over his head, and I get my hands on all that warm, scarred skin I’ve been pretending not to study for weeks. His breath goes ragged. I feel powerful in a way I never have before.
“You sure?” he says, braced over me, holding his weight off so I have air. Asking with his whole face.
“I made a list,” I tell him. “And you won.”
His eyes darken, and when they’re this deep and dangerous, I can look right at them. No problem. In fact, I could get lost in them if I’m not careful.
“Say it again,” he says, with almost a growl.
“You won.”
He kisses the corner of my mouth.
Then the side of my neck.
My clavicle.
Then the center of my chest between my breasts.
“You sat down and did math about me. You have no idea how hot that fucking is. Somebody choosing me on purpose. On paper.”
“That’s a strange thing to find romantic.”
“I’m a strange guy. I think we’ve covered that already.”
“Well, strange for a hockey player.”
“How many hockey players do you fucking know?” he asks, and I’m not sure if he’s angry…or being possessive?
“Well, I work them all the time, Adams.”
“No, how many of them do you know like…this?”
Ohhh.
“None, just you.”
“That’s the fucking better answer.”
Then he tells me what he’s going to do next, and his hand slides between us, slow, his eyes on mine the whole time so I can stop him with a look if a look is all I’ve got. He touches me exactly where he said he would, patient, reading every sound I make and adjusting, until the patience undoes something I have kept locked my entire adult life, and I’m saying his name into the room.
“Caleb.”
“There she is,” he says, like I’m somebody worth finding. “Stay with me, baby. You’re doing so good. Stay right here.”
And I do.
He trails kisses down the center of my stomach, my hips, my thighs, my calves, and even the soles of my feet. There’s no part of me he leaves untouched by his mouth.
When he finally moves over me, when he tells me it’s coming, when there’s the stretch of his dick pushing its way inside of me and the slow careful press of one body learning another, I don’t leave.
I don’t float up to the ceiling and watch a woman go through the motions as I have before. I’m here. Totally present. Because he made it a place safe enough to stay.
