A Kiss Like This (19 page)

Caleb does the same, pushing the door firmly closed behind him, sliding the deadbolt into the lock and setting his painting on the counter by the fridge.

“You can probably just leave that unlocked,” I say, shrugging off my jacket.

This gets a reaction from him, and his eyes go wide. “I’m sorry, but are you nuts? You can’t just leave the door unlocked in the middle of the night. Wait. How often do you do leave it unlocked like that?” His hand is braced on a kitchen chair, leaning onto it for support and giving me a hard stare as he waits for my response.

Quietly, I gaze up into his dark brown eyes. “But…
you’re
here.”

That’s all it takes. That’s all it takes for his expression to soften and his resolve to disappear. Caleb steps toward me, lifting his hand to cup my cheek and bring his mouth down onto mine. Tenderly. I raise up onto my tiptoes and press my lips full against his.

He walks me backwards until my back is pressed against the stove, and his kisses whisper down my chin and neck.

Groaning, he buries his face in my neck. “You smell so good. Like. Like…” He searches for the words as he runs his hands slowly up and down my back.

“…baby powder,” I fill in for him, sighing into his hair and threading my arms around his neck. My palms run lightly over his bent shoulders, memorizing every smooth contour of this boy’s sinewy muscles—this shy boy who kisses me so sweetly that my heart could actually burst from the joy of it all. This shy and cautious boy who makes me feel beautiful.

Wanted.

Confident.

Like I steal his breath away.

The way he steals away mine
.

~ Caleb ~

But
you’re
here
.

But you’re here
…

Her words—those three simple little words—are a fucking arrow aimed straight at my gut. I reach for her, uninhibited now by those three simple words, and walk her back,
back
, until she’s pressed against the shoddy kitchen stove. Reaching to cup her face, I groan and bury my face in her neck, inhaling the sweet musk of her hair.

“You smell so good. Like. Like…” I search for the words and run my hands slowly up and down her back, imprinting myself on the delicate spine hidden under her thin gray tee shirt.

“…baby powder.” She supplies the words, sighing into my hair when she threads those toned, porcelain arms around my neck. Abby’s palms skim lightly over my taunt shoulders, and the pleasure from this timid gesture discharges sparks from my shoulders, straight to my cock. This shy, beautiful girl who is tenderly kissing me in the middle of her shitty kitchen, in her crooked shamble of a rental, who overlooks the fact that I’m an awkward, edgy piece of shit.

She makes me feel… protective. Virile. Wanted.

Like I steal her breath away.

The way she steals away mine
.

Abby sighs into me, and my hands automatically go to her hips, pull her closer, and lift her off the ground. When I set her on the stove top, she immediately scoots forward, pressing into me, wrapping her long legs around my hips. With a quick flick of her wrist, she knocks my ball cap to the floor and her fingers through my hair.

She kneads my thick strands, tugging.

“I’m never wearing that fucking hat again.” A groan rumbles from my chest as my lips seek the soft, warm skin behind her ear.

She moans. “Shut up. I like it.”

Whoa
.

My nostrils flare and our mouths collide for wet, wide, open-mouthed kisses. Abby’s tongue laps at my lips like they’re covered with sugar. We kiss and kiss and kiss, and I rotate my hockey player hips, grinding my hard dick into the apex of her spread thighs. The motion rocks the stove, and it occasionally hits the wall behind it with a hollow, metallic bang.

Just as her hand begins tugging the polo shirt from the waistband of my jeans, the kitchen door flies open and Jenna stumbles in, holding up her keys and giggling. She halts in the threshold. Her hand flies up to cover her mouth, and her eyes widen with shock. Two seconds later, in walks…

Fucking. Cubby
.

“Holy shit, Showtime. Do the two of you do anything but grind on each other with your clothes on?” Cubby asks without ceremony, breaking the stunned silence. Neither of our friends even have the common courtesy to look apologetic at having caught us, uh… doing what we do best.

His eyes dart down to my discarded hat on the floor, and he bends at the waist, scooping it up and dangling it toward me with his forefinger. He offers it over. “Here. You must have dropped this when you started fake fucking.”

“Oh my god,” Abby mumbles, mortified, burying her face in my neck.

I take the hat and place it on my head, backwards.

“What the hell are
you
doing here?” I ask through narrowed eyes, glancing from him to Jenna, who’s watching Abby and me with open interest. She definitely looks buzzed—but then again, so does Cubby.

“I’m here to
do
Jenna. What the hell are
you
doing here?” He cackles, grabbing Jenna by the waist. He tickles her and she slaps his roaming hands away with a, “Stop it, Chester, save it for the bedroom.”

Chester?

Jesus. Christ.

“As much as I’d love to comment on this whole…” Jenna waves her hand around airily “…
whatever
this is, we’ll just leave you two kids alone. Come on, Cubby.” Jenna takes his hand and tugs him through the kitchen. “My bedroom is this way.”

Cubby gives me a salute then gives Jenna a light slap on the ass. They disappear down the hallway, giggling and bumping into the walls. A few moments later, a door opens and slams shut, leaving the kitchen quiet, save, of course, for the muffled laughter now coming from the other room.

“I can’t even,” Abby says, raising her head from my chest. Her pupils are still dilated and her cheeks are flushed, but she gives me a cheeky grin.

“That was painful,” I chuckle, smoothing my palms down her forearms and leaning in to plant a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Granted, it wasn’t as painful as you trying to invite me in the house.”

She pokes a finger into my solid chest. “Hey now, watch it, Mister. It’s not like I have a ton of practice inviting guys over.”

“But you’re so good at it,” I tease, and she bites down on her lower lip, dragging her teeth across it.

“Caleb?” Her voice is soft and full of hesitation.

I brush a loose hair from her brow and tuck it behind her ear. “Yeah?”

“I really like you.” The way she says it—like an exhale—all breathy, like she’s only just discovered it herself and had to blurt it out… it makes my adrenaline spike. It’s the same rush I get whenever a hockey puck is flying toward my mitt: pure exhilaration.

“That’s good, because I like you, too.”

***

Abby:…
and then we headed to Lone Rangers

Cecelia:
God I HATE that place. But that’s where Matthew and I had our first fight, remember?

Abby:
Uh, yeah. That wasn’t a fight. That was foreplay.

Cecelia:
Yeah. It was awesome… And tell me what you meant when you said Jenna is hooking up with Cubby? I hope you’re wrong. Definitely going to have a talk with her about her unfortunate taste in men. I just threw up in my mouth a little.

Abby:
Well you’re not the one who had to listen to them having sex half the night. I had the honor of suffering through that.

Cecelia:
Okay, but on a positive note—your date with Caleb tonight went well???

Abby:
No, it went GREAT. He’s amazing. Cece, I like him so much it scares me. I’ve never felt this way before and I have no idea what I’m doing. The good news is HE doesn’t know what he’s doing. Basically we’re a hot mess.

Cecelia
: Do you think he feels the same way about you?

Abby
: Yes, I think so. Yes.

Cecelia
: Then stop overthinking everything. What did I tell you before? JUST GO WITH IT. Take me for example: I moved across the country after “dating” Matthew only 2 months. WHO DOES THAT?

Abby:
Crazy people :-)

Cecelia
: Amend that to crazy people AND people crazy in love, and you are correct.

Abby
: Love. There is that…

Cecelia:
Wait. ARE YOU FALLING IN LOVE WITH HIM, ABBY???!!!!

Abby:
Oh, come on. It’s way too soon for that. But I am falling in LIKE with him. Definitely in like…

Cecelia:
Before I forget
.
Why on earth does everyone think he’s celibate?

Abby:
Best guess
-
because he’s not a manwhore like his friends.

Cecelia:
But he put the moves on YOU, right?

Abby:
I mean. If you count him grinding into me while he slept as “putting the moves on me” then yes. He put the moves on me
.

Cecelia:
That definitely counts. And it’s better than actual sex. Wanna know why
?

Abby:
Sure, why not.

Cecelia
: It means he respects you
.

Abby:
How is that respecting me?

Cecelia:
He’s not pushing you to have sex with him, but he’s still getting you, um… off?

Abby:
Oh god!!! Could you NOT????

Cecelia:
Sorry! Sorry. Matthew’s open attitude about sex must be rubbing off on me
…

CHAPTER 21

Abby

Campus is beautiful this time of year; the snow has completely melted, and with each passing day, the damp air and seasonal chill are replaced with new spring growth that begins brightening the places winter had forgotten.

Exiting the science building after my morning lab, I bend my head and pull out my phone, check my Instagram account, double-tap about five pictures, check my email and Twitter, then respond to a few text messages.

Crossing the commons area, I follow the concrete path to the edge of campus, past a few Administration buildings, and only look up when a voice calls out my name.

Tyler.

My cousin jogs toward me, looking like he’s just rolled out of bed, which he probably did, and I roll my eyes as he approaches. Messy mop of hair, baggy jeans, an even baggier sweatshirt and backpack lazily slung over one shoulder.

“Abby, hold up,” he says, breathing heavily when he catches up. For such a young guy, he really shouldn’t be huffing and puffing from such a short jaunt; it was only a few yards.

“You really should lay off the pot. It’s turning you into a complete Sally.” I playfully lob the insult at him while hefting my backpack to the other shoulder.

“Got a minute?” Tyler asks, hunching over and resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. Wow. He really needs to start taking better care of himself, or he’s going to drop dead by the time we graduate.

I keep this to myself.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Just wanted to make sure we’re cool. You know, after that whole climbing-out-of-my-window thing.” He rubs his nose with the heel of his hand and my face scrunches up. Gross.

“Of course we’re cool. You didn’t exactly shove me out the window, Ty. I did it myself.” I pause before adding, “You didn’t seem so worried when I was dangling out your window. Besides. That happened almost three weeks ago.”

He scratches his head. “It did?”

Oh boy. Time to call Aunt Monica.

“Yup, sure did. But don’t worry, as you can see, I survived.” I give him a weak smile and readjust my heavy backpack. And I’m sorry if it sounds harsh, but struggling through this conversation—or lack thereof—with Tyler is killing me softly. He’s my cousin, but I’ve been a witness to his irresponsible and erratic behavior for twenty years. Therefore, I’m allowed to be irritated.

“Are you coming to the Kappa O ‘Comeoniwannalayya’ Luau this weekend?”

I laugh, shaking my head, and fan my fingers through my loose hair. “I think I’ve filled my yearly quota for your frat parties. Sorry.”

“Seriously? You’re gonna let one walk of shame keep you from coming back? That is weak. So weak.”

Pfft. “I only came to the last one because you begged me to, and because you were celebrating your appointment to executive board.” And because my mom paid me fifty dollars. “You know those things aren’t my scene.”

He looks about as disgusted as a stoner can get. “How is it possible that we’re related?”

“Trust me, I wonder the same thing every single day.”

I glance over his shoulder to the campus beyond, having lost all interest in the discussion, and give a start—Caleb is walking toward us, crossing the campus commons, his steely gaze fastened on me like I’m in his crosshairs.

I straighten and try not to completely ignore Tyler beside me, but it’s hard.

Impossible.

This is the first time I’ve seen Caleb on campus, and it’s disarming. Tall, broody, and determined, his stride a relaxed gait, and the closer he gets, I can see a smile tipping his mouth into a curve.

And he’s wearing his glasses.

Wow. Just…
wow
.

If I thought he was cute before, I was sadly mistaken. This Caleb… sheesh. He's a hybrid, athletic, and sexified version of Superman’s Clark Kent. A studly, silent, glasses-wearing jock I’ve developed a big, fat, sloppy, teenage-style crush on all over again.

Ugh, he’s so damn good looking.

And he doesn’t even realize it.

His eyes move from me to Tyler, and instantly his hooded stare gets moody from beneath the ball cap, hoodie, and black frames.

He approaches almost cautiously, removing his ear buds before arriving at my side and bending at the waist slightly to plant a quick kiss on the top of my head. “Hey.”

If I died now, I would die happy.

“Uh… hey?” I blush from the tip of my toes to my hairline as his arm slips possessively around my waist. Guh! Physical contact in public! I swallow a nervous squeak.

“What the hell is going on?” Tyler interjects, his confused expression comical as he glances down between our bodies at the hand resting on my hip.

I clear my throat restlessly. “Tyler, this is Caleb. Caleb, this is… um, my cousin, Tyler.”

Neither of them reaches out to greet each other with the customary handshake.