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“I’m sure.”
I’m sick of feeling sad, of experiencing nothing but grief and uncertainty. But most of all, I want to reconnect with Caleb. To show him how much his support after Gramps passed meant. To reassure him that while everything else in my life might have changed, my feelings for him have not.
“Ineedyou, Caleb.”
Hunger replaces uncertainty as he pulls my mouth to his. Lust condenses in my stomach and spreads throughout my veins as he rolls above me, his tongue skillfully stroking mine. I feelalive, a mass of emotions and desires. My hands explore the corded sinew of Caleb’s bare back, savoring how the muscles shift and tense.
I can’t get close enough to him, only moving away to pull down my jeans and tug at the gray sweatpants he’s wearing. His mouth moves to my neck. I arch upward, moaning his name and not caring how needy and desperate I sound.
Anticipation tumbles through me like a waterfall when I feel his cock press against my entrance. My heart races and my breathing quickens.
“Fuck,” Caleb groans, as he slips the rest of the way inside of me.
I stop thinking and just feel, letting myself get lost in the sensation of being completely consumed by Caleb Winters.
And hope the way I’m clutching on to him is telling Caleb everything I haven’t found the words for yet.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
LENNON
Caleb is already awake when I wake up the following morning, which rarely happens. I’m usually the early riser of the two of us.
He walks into his bedroom as I’m pulling on his oldLandry Baseballsweatshirt, giving me a warm smile and a soft kiss. “How’d you sleep?”
“Pretty good.” I smirk. He grins back before kissing me again. I’d rather he thinks it was his bedroom skills that made me pass out immediately after sex than the fact I’ve barely slept in days.
“I’ve got practice in twenty minutes,” he tells me.
I glance at the alarm clock. It’s just past seven. “This early?”
Caleb shrugs. “It’s too hot later in the day.”
“Okay.”
“It’s only an hour. I can come back and pick you up after. Or you can come?”
“I’ll go with you.” I’m ambivalent toward baseball, but I love Caleb. For him, I can sit through a practice. After all the times he’s helped me with the horses, it feels like the least I can do.
Caleb’s smile tells me that’s the answer he was hoping for. “There’s a diner we can go to for breakfast after.”
“Do you have coffee?” I slept well last night, but I’m running on a major deficit overall.
He grabs a travel mug from his desk and hands it to me. “Way ahead of you, Matthews.”
“Wow. I could get used to this treatment.” I take a sip of the coffee, smiling when I taste my usual creamer in it.
“You could,” Caleb responds.
I take my time lowering the mug. I wasn’t under any illusion the topic of me attending Clarkson wouldn’t come up during this visit, but I’m not ready to seriously discuss it yet.
“I need some more time, Caleb.”
“Fine,” he agrees easily, but a muscle in his jaw jumps.
We both know time is a finite resource. The Admissions Office was understanding when I informed them of Gramps’s death and requested an extension on accepting or declining their offer, but that leniency is limited. The fall semester starts in just over a month.
After I finish getting dressed, I follow Caleb downstairs. The rest of his housemates are rushing about, grabbing sports equipment and eating granola bars. All of them give me curious looks, a couple of them smile. Caleb grabs two breakfast bars from a kitchen cabinet and waves at the rest of the guys.
