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“He’s good. He’ll find a quiet spot to curl up in. Probably on the bench in your kitchen, since that’s about the only place he knows at this point.” I put one foot on the stairs following Callan, who still hadn’t released my hand.
He paused about four steps up, and turned to me, doubt painted on his face. “I don’t want to make assumptions here. My invitation to stay should have included a verbalized wish that you spend the night. With me. In my bed.” His grin turned wicked. “Not necessarily sleeping.”
I know my smile back was eager. “I’m good with all that. Especially the not sleeping part.”
I wasn’t expecting it, but suddenly, Callan’s arms were around my back and he hauled me up against his chest. He pulled me higher still, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, his erection a hard edge along my front, his hands warm on my butt. He spun and continued up the steps, two at a time. I kissed and licked his neck and jaw as he climbed.
He wasn’t winded by the time we arrived at the top. He paused, put my back against the wall, holding me in place with his hips and chest. His mouth went wild on mine; deeply longing and lusty, thrusting, sucking, aggressive. He cupped my breast and squeezed and deepened the onslaught of his mouth and tongue until all breath was frozen in my lungs and a puddle of need grew in my stomach. I had my answer about how his hands would feel on my breast.Absolutely astonishing.
I wound my fingers through the natural wave of his hair, making a mess that neither of us cared about. He was panting by the time he ended the kiss.
“Aw, Catie, we are magic together,” he commented.
Still reeling from his kiss, I could only nod.
Tightening his arms under my butt, he stepped away from the wall and hurried down a long hallway toward a set of double doors.
He set me on my feet, only to push close and back me against the wall again just inside the door. Oh, the man loved having me between two hard places: his rock-hard body and the unforgiving wall. He was so tall, and I so short that he had to bend his knees to get his mouth level with my face, which gave me ample opportunity to ride his hard thigh, the friction between our bodies a craving I needed as much as I needed to breathe.
I tightened my arms around his shoulders, not about to complain when his big body held me in place as he stroked his tongue around my lips, then delved inside. He shifted slightly, lowered one hand to my breast and kneaded. I arched my back, wanting more of that contact. Then I skimmed my hands down his chest to the hem of his T-shirt, under it, and danced my fingertips on his hot, firm flesh. I rolled my hips, sensation shooting like a star through me, and settled my fingers in his waist band, near the button of his jeans. As I tucked my forefinger between his jeans and his skin, he moaned into my mouth.
My head spun as he ended the kiss as swiftly as it began, then lifted me suddenly, cradling me against his chest, and hurried across the room. When he laid me down gently, I had the impression of cloudlike softness at my back only an instant before the solid planes and angles of his body pressed me into the mattress. One of his legs was between my thighs, one hand on my breast and his mouth never far from mine. The solid strength of him stretched along my side as he plundered my mouth and sought out all my erogenous zones with his hands.
His touch was light and erotic as he skimmed his fingertips down my belly and stopped at the button on my pants. He pushed his knee higher between my legs until the hard muscle of his thigh massaged my clit, and swear to God, a rainbow bloomed in my head. Between his wild, seeking kiss and the friction between our bodies, he’d set me ablaze.
Slipping the button of my jeans free, he slipped his fingers inside, then down, under the elastic of my panties, and further still. His groan as he brushed my clit, circled the slick heat of it, echoed my breathy moan.
I tucked my hands under his T-shirt and cataloged the muscles around his waist, counted each rib as I stroked upward. He dipped his hand further between my legs and slipped one finger into my sheath. I arched off the mattress, pressing my breasts to his chest, seeking more, more of the addictive sensation of his touch.
He raised over me, his sea-green eyes smoldering as he held my gaze, now moving his finger faster, the heel of his hand rubbing the bundle of excited nerves. I was panting, on the edge of coming, ready to fly.
With a grunt, Callan stilled his hand, never releasing my gaze. He kept his eyes open as he captured my mouth and used his tongue to let me know what he wanted. The kiss went on and on, and I closed my eyes and lifted my hips. I wanted his fingers plunging inside me the way his tongue was. Hard, fast, hot.
“Open your eyes, Catie-belle.” His words coasted along my nerves, a seductive whisper.
I complied, my lids sluggishly raising to find his ardent gaze searching my face.
“The first time I make you come, I want to be inside you.” He withdrew his hand from my pants.
I mourned the loss of his touch inside my seeping channel. I grabbed his wrist to hold him there, but he easily broke my hold, then lifted onto his knees between my legs. I pressed my palms to his heavy quads, and wasn’t the least bit shy about skating upward toward his groin. The heat of his cock burned through his jeans.
“I’ll be back, I promise,” he chuckled as he reached behind his head and ripped off his shirt. Next, he reached for mine and I lifted to help him remove it. Tossing it aside, he lowered his mouth to the bra still covering my breast and closed with precision over one of my nipples.
“Oh, God,” I breathed. I flattened my palm over his penis and stroked through the heavy denim. “Oh, Callan.”
He nuzzled from one breast to the other, hips moving against my hand. I arched my back as he wiggled his hand behind me and released the lacy lingerie. He rose over me, pulled the fabric free, then laved his tongue in a circle over the tight nub, once, again, and then bit gently. A deep, guttural, needy moan ripped from my throat.
Callan kissed his way down my belly, the muscles jumping with the light touch and the soft scrape of his beard. His fingers on my waistband, lowering my zipper, brought my hips upward, seeking his warm fingers or his hot dick. Then suddenly, he was gone, the bed rocking a bit as he pressed off the mattress. He peeled my jeans and panties down and off my legs. As I watched, he tossed them to the floor, then shoved his hands along the sides of his hips, pushing down his jeans and underwear, revealing his engorged cock, the reddish-purple crown standing proudly against his taut abdomen.
I pushed up to my elbows to let my gaze roam his naked form. Dark blond hair sprinkled across his well-defined pecs, slightly darker on his pubic bone. He didn’t have a six-pack, more like a four-pack, but the muscles on both sides of his chest stood out and tapered to a narrow waist and hips, a near-perfect recreation of DaVinci’s Vitruvian man, a form I’d studied in art school. His broad shoulders and thick thighs were works of art as well.
He looked amazing in clothes, but naked… “God, you are well made.”
He smiled. “I could say the same about you. Your body is a masterpiece.” He reached into the bedside table, and pulled out a couple foil-wrapped condoms, then tossed them on the surface.
He climbed back between my legs, lifted my knees and spread me wide. “Glistening, pretty, and pink. I knew I’d find this perfection the second I got your clothes off.” He lowered his mouth to my slit and licked his tongue through my folds. He nuzzled his nose against my clit and sparks showered through my body. “And to be fair, I wanted to get your clothes off from the moment I saw you in Bad Dog’s office that day. When you opened that damn Viking cover file.” He laughed, then licked me again, his eyes trained on my face, watching for my reaction.
The sweep of his tongue left me breathless, but I managed to reply, “I pictured the mysterious man I’d met on the trail that first day as I designed that. When you walked into that office, I thought my face was on fire.”
