A Kiss Like This (16 page)

Everything about his physical appearance eludes power.

Muscularity.

Strength.

Yet he’s so very bashful and restrained with me.

Another turn-on.

“Are you done fluffing?” I ask, teasing as I give my own pillows a solid whack and rolling over on my side to face him.

“Just about.” He’s on his back now, craning his neck to look at me, hesitating a heartbeat, then rolling over too, joining me on his side.

Hands tucked under his cheek, he observes me through those dark soulful eyes, roaming my face before quickly darting down to my breasts. I know without even having to glance down that he’s getting an eyeful of boob, which are no doubt smashed together from the way I’m lying.

Caleb stares a few seconds too long and blows out a puff of pent-up frustration before rolling over and returning promptly to his back, muttering what sounds like, “
This was such a bad idea
.”

“Did you say something?”

He coughs. “Uh, no?”

Disappointed, I lie where I am, watching him. The dark mop of hair, the sideburns, the hard square of his set jaw. Once again, Cecelia’s words from her last text suddenly stick out in my mind:
Just go with it… Just go with it…

She hadn’t finished the sentence, but it came through loud and clear: Just go with it
for once in your life.

“Hey, Caleb?”

He stops staring at the ceiling to give me a tortured glance, brows creased together. “Hmm?”

“I think it would be a shame to be in this big bed and let it go to waste, don’t you?” His eyes widen in shock—and who could blame him? Even to my own ears that sounded so,
so
slutty. I hurry to correct myself. “I mean—I am
not
suggesting we have sex or anything…” Okay, that just made it worse. “W-what I mean to say is…”

He’s staring at me like I’ve lost my damn mind, and yes, maybe I have.

But if he didn’t smell so amazing… wasn’t lying there half naked with that dark, angry scowl… that thick mop of shocking black hair, and didn’t have that oh-so-sexy gap between his front teeth that he hates—this wouldn’t be happening.

Yup. All of this is his fault.

I watch as he pulls his top lip over his teeth and bits the inside of his cheeks to stop from grinning.

“Are you propositioning me?”

I gasp and sit up, pulling the covers up over my chest. “What! Pfft. No!”

Caleb closes his eyes and puts both arms behind his head, smiling. “Huh. That’s too bad.”

I flop back down, embarrassed, and reach over to flip off the lamp with a huff. Out of the newly dark rooms comes a low, sexy chuckle.

“Stop laughing,” I scold, crossing my arms over my chest protectively.

Thank god he can’t see how red my face is.

“Sorry. I can hear you pouting in the dark, and it’s pretty damn cute.” I can hear him smiling, probably a big ol’ grin with his gap showing.

“Being awkward is part of my charm—or so I’ve been told.”

The room is silent, then…

“I’m partial to it myself,” he says quietly.

For a few minutes, we just lie there in the pitch-black bedroom, and I have nothing to do but relive the moment before, when it sounded like I was asking him to have sex, over and over in my mind, cringing in the dark. Until…

“Hey, Abby?” The mattress and blankets shift as Caleb rolls over on his side to face me.

“Yeah?”

“Where’s your hand?”

It’s really dark in here without the lights on, trust me. Pitch black.

My stomach does a little flip-flop, and my heart does too. Breathlessly, I extend my arm and slide my hand flat on the mattress, forward toward Caleb’s voice, the sound of my palms skimming across the cool sheets permeating the air. “Here.” I give my fingertips a wiggle, scratching them against the mattress.

Caleb’s hand grazes mine under the covers and our fingers entwine.

“I want to kiss you, too.” His voice is a hoarse whisper in the dark.

My breath hitches. “Then w-what are you waiting for?” Brave words, terrible delivery.

Gently tugging my hand toward him, he guides my fingers to his lips. I stifle a surprised gasp as he slowly kisses the pads of my palm, his warm breath on my skin only fueling my own need to touch him.

I resist the urge and am rewarded when the fingers holding my hand begin trialing their way up my arm, the calloused pads of his fingers wreaking utter devastation on my girly bits.

His large hand caresses my shoulder, my collarbone, and my neck, as if his fingertips could memorize every plane of my body. Caleb’s hand cups the side of my face, and he tugs me closer still, his thumb seeking out and stroking my bottom lip.

I let out a sigh.

Holy shit, he’s good at this.

~ Caleb ~

Holy shit, she feels good.

As my rough hands skim and caress the delicate skin of her arms, I let my senses savor every soft, sweet part of her: her narrow shoulders, her toned arms, her porcelain collarbone. I rub her glossy, satin hair between my forefinger and thumb before slowly trailing them along the column of her neck, my thumb caressing the underside of her tilted chin, then her bottom lip.

I found what I’ve been looking for.

Cupping her face in my large palm, I close the gap between us, lean in, and press my full lips against her trembling mouth.

The taste of her mouth is possibly the sweetest fucking thing I’ve tasted on Earth—this gorgeous girl with her pretty mouth muttering my name on a sigh in the dark.

The sweetest. Fucking. Flavor.

“Caleb,” she murmurs quietly when I trail my index finger along the side of her neck, brushing her silky hair aside and whispering kisses down her jaw to that delicate spot just behind her ear.

Abby’s fingertips tentatively trail along my stomach before flattening her palms against my skin—giving me goose bumps—sliding them over my fit torso, cupping the pec muscles I work so hard to maintain, as if weighing them and revering their strength. I cover her hand with my free one as her fingers roam, encouraging the exploration, and moan when her index finger traces a circle around my nipple.

“Abby.”

I shiver, needing this girl, and tilt my mouth as she opens hers farther, our tongues cautiously, finally, introducing themselves.

I could kiss this girl for hours—and that’s exactly what I do.

I found what I’ve been looking for, and I didn’t even know it was missing.

We kiss—just kiss—until our lips are chapped and we couldn’t possibly get our tongues any further down each other’s throats.

We kiss until we’re tired and those kisses are nothing but whispers and sighs and breath across each other’s lips.

We kiss until we’re wrapped in each other’s arms, Abby’s back to my front, her lips pressed against the thick bicep she’s resting her head on.

I sigh, content, and run my hand down her hip before slipping into a dream.

CHAPTER 18

Abby

It’s like déjà vu, only this time, we’re alone and the door is locked.

My eyes open slowly, adjusting to the sun that’s flooding the bedroom with a brilliant morning light, and blink. Caleb peers down at me, chin propped on his palm, watching as I give him my first smile of the day. He dips his head then and kisses my sleepy mouth, letting his lips linger there.

I raise my hand and run it along the whiskers of his face, my fingers stopping at his full bottom lip. Immobile as stone, he waits, anticipating my next move. I can see the anticipation building in his dark, stormy eyes, but rather than the typical brooding, I see nothing but desire.

“Morning,” he whispers, his lips moving to my ear, flicking the outer lobe with his tongue.

With the tip of my finger, I trace his mouth, letting the tip remain at the crest above the bow, and whisper, “Let me see it.”

He knows instantly what I mean: his gap.

Caleb’s brows raise, and his shaggy hair gets a little shake.

“Please,” I sulk. When he just looks back at me uncertainly, I add, “You can’t hide it from me forever.”

But I can try
. I can
see
him thinking it so hard it’s almost out loud.

“Fine, be that way.” Rolling to my side, I face him, giving myself permission to cast my eyes downward to his mesh shorts and openly ogle his groin; the shorts do very little to conceal his erection.

Lazily, still too tired to be embarrassed by my bold actions, I trace his chest, flattening my palm on the hard planes of his abs and firm hips. There is barely an ounce of fat on this guy, which, to be honest, isn’t necessarily a selling point.

In fact, I’ve always made it a point to stay away from guys who are in better shape than me. Call me crazy, but it makes me feel more self-conscious than I already am when a guy is ripped with a six-pack. A guy who spends all his time at the gym.

I know it’s stereotyping, but those are the guys who will probably judge me later when they see me stuff my face with snacks and ice cream.

And I couldn’t handle that kind of pressure, dating someone with the perfect physique when mine is anything but.

Not that I’m complaining!

Because Caleb’s body… Caleb’s body is a masterpiece that I couldn’t possibly begrudge or envy. I’m
proud
of him for it.

“I’m… n-not wearing underwear,” I announce. “It’s too bad you won’t show me your sexy gap.”

“I’m not going to
barter
with you,” he replies stubbornly. But his intrigued eyes give him away, and his hawk like gaze shoots down to my shorts, searching so intently for panty lines they’re likely to catch fire. “This isn’t an arbitration.”

“What are you, a business major?” I reach over and play with a thick strand of his hair.

“No. Pre-law.”

“Wow, how did I not know that?”

He shrugs. “I have to do
something
when I graduate.”

“I just assumed, you know, the hockey thing…”

He gives me a nudge, and I’m quickly flipped onto my back again. “No. When I graduate, I’m done. I’m only playing to pay for school.” He hesitates. “Would that bother you? That I don’t want to play pro?”

Would that bother me… if
what
? If we dated? If he was my boyfriend? If we were in a relationship? I want to ask him for clarification, but I don’t.

“No, I think it’s incredible that you want to do something else. That you have the courage to do it,” I whisper as he leans over, braced up on his arm, studying me. With him this close, I take the opportunity to study him back, beginning with his eyes: the darkest chocolate brown eyes that I’ve ever seen, with the tiniest flecks of hazel and thick, sooty lashes.

Mesmerizing.

The straight slashes of eyebrows above are the perfect indicators of what he’s feeling, arching up and down curiously as he lets my intense gaze rake his face.

Other than the indent under a masculine nose that hasn’t been broken by any flying pucks, the only thing sexier than Caleb’s pout is the shadow darkening his jawline.

I crane my head to note the time: eight o’clock. Way too early for anyone to be up and in the kitchen yet—not with all the drinking they did last night.

Caleb shifts his hips, and when his erection rubs against my thigh, he cringes apologetically. “Sorry. I can’t help it.”

His voice is still so deep from just having awoken that I can feel the reverberation against the mattress, and I scoot closer, wanting to be near him.

Plus, the bedroom is cold.

Caleb doesn’t hesitate to wrap his big, strong arms around me and pull me into the heat of his broad chest, and I close my eyes, breathing in the smell of him and relishing the lines of his hard body pressed so tightly against mine. I can feel all the planes of his athletic physique as he strokes my back, first over my tank top, then under it.

He moves over me then, one arm bent at the elbow next to my face, the other rough hand teasing the hem of my sleep shorts, before his fingers skim inside the waistband. “Holy shit, you really aren’t wearing any underwear.”

I gulp, suppressing a nervous giggle. “Nope.”

Growling, his head dips down and our lips meet for soft, pliant, open-mouthed kisses that would have made me drowsy if I hadn’t already gotten a full night’s sleep. Caleb’s teeth pull at my bottom lip, sucking, his tongue swirling erotically into my mouth.

I moan, my hips coming off the mattress when his hockey player hips rotate into the apex of my thighs in an excruciatingly lazy gyration. His palm reaches down into my shorts, sliding over my bare skin and cupping my derrière. He holds me firmly against his hard-on, fingers digging in dangerously close to my ass crack.

Caleb’s hand leaves my bottom, firmly runs along my upper thigh, fingers tracing the lacy hem of my little white shorts before brushing the fabric aside and dragging his thick, mesh-covered shaft deliberately up and down the slit in my exposed crotch.

Holy… mother… o-of…
Mmnnnuhhhhhh

My head tips back, and his mouth presses kisses to the base of my throat, down my neck, on my collarbone.

Wet, open-mouthed kisses.

His thin mesh athletic shorts do nothing but deliver the weakest of barriers to our pleasure. The material provides the simplest chastity chaperone and is the only thing keeping me from tearing my shorts off and slipping him my V-card.

I spread my legs wider; he grinds deeper.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he growls in my ear. “Shit.” His hips continue rocking into me, and I try to speak, but no words come out of my throat. The sensitive nerve endings in my body are exploding like fireworks, and I…
Oh! Mmmmuuh! S-shoot, oh, crap. Yeah, yes. Oh god, Iove his hips, they’re s-so g-good at th-this…

I draw out a moan as I come too.
Uhhh, so good
…

He braces himself over me, kisses my temple, then flops down on the mattress next to me and reaches for my hand.

We lie like this, side by side, for a few moments before a throaty laugh escapes my lips.

“Where’d you learn to dry hump like that?” I tease breathlessly when we’re lying there, my free hand resting on my chest above my heart.

“Middle school.” He laughs.

***

Cecelia:
So… congrats on your first orgasm! I feel like I should send you an edible bouquet. Or a vibrator.