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She doesn’t answer.
And fuck, I wish she did, because I would have stopped. I would have pulled away. But her silence is a signal. And I do hope I read it fucking right.
I take the Band-Aid and rip the protective cover, then take the excess medicine off her skin, wiping it on my shorts, because there is a swamp of it, the mess that I’ve made—the fucking Dr. Droga—and put the Band-Aid on.
It’s done.
But I don’t say the words. As soon as I do, she will flee to the other side of the room or try to leave. And if she does, I will go mad here by myself thinking of her.
I am shameless, I know. Desperate, for sure.
I put my hands on her waist, lean over, and kiss the skin around her scratch.
Her entire body shivers as my lips touch her skin.
My heart pounds in my chest as I expect her to push me away.
But I do it again.
And again.
And once I inhale the scent of her and kiss that skin, I beg the universe for her not to stop me.
I let the tip of my tongue slide between my lips and follow those kisses up her back to her shoulder. Carefully. Slowly. Like I am stalking the prey. But she is not my prey. She is a trap. And she caught me a long time ago. I want her to want me. Because I’ve wanted her for so long it seems like a never-ending story. Right now, I am begging in my mind for her to submit. Just this once.
Let go of the past and just be with me.
It’s like a mantra on repeat in my head.
My kisses reach her neck. My nose brushes against her damp blond strands, and she tilts her head, exposing her neck to me.
Yeah, she wants it.
Excitement spikes through me like an arrow.
The air around us is still, salty, and sprinkled with light music and the sound of crashing waves from outside.
I bring my lips to her ear. There is so much I want to say and I don’t because I don’t want to scare her. My feelings will do that. She will run. Like she did four years ago.
But her head turns. Her face tilts up. An inch. Another inch.
Her eyes are closed, unlike mine. Her lips, full and delicious, slightly parted, inch closer to mine. And when they meet mine, I am on a highway to hell and paradise.
Forget the highway.
It’s a race track that rewinds four years to when kissing Callie Mays seemed like an impossible dream.
When being next to her was magical, and nothing else mattered.
28
KAI
I haveto restrain myself from attacking Callie like an animal as I take her lips. I suck on her lower lip, then sear her mouth with a kiss that is no match for my want for her.
My lips push hers open, and I slide my tongue in.
Some invisible walls start crashing between us, in slow motion.
