Forever Checking (Checked Series Book 3) (20 page)

BUZZ.

My phone is buzzing on my dresser.

I grab it. One Unknown Number text.

Open.

Are you finished with your night routine?

He’s still up?

Reply.

I am.

Send.

I crawl into bed, still holding my phone. Still smiling. Still thinking about tom—

Buzz.

Open.

Do your leaving-the-house routine then. I’m picking you up in forty minutes.

I can’t sleep without you tonight.

Chapter 19

him. him. him.

{IL DIVO. STILL SINGING IN Spanish.}

My skin begins to burn.

Bare arms. Bare neck. Bursting with heat.

He’s on his way. He’s on his way. He’s on his way.

I push the covers off of me, feeling every movement of the blanket on my legs, my thighs. I step out of bed. My skin notices every brush of my silk pajamas. Each graze of fabric.

Skin. Alive. Aware. Scorching.

I start out of my room to do my leaving-the—

Wait.

I need to change my clothes. I have to change my clothes.

I can’t exactly go out like this.

Back to my room, ripping the silk camisole and silk shorts from my body.

Brush. Graze. Tingle. Brush. Graze. Tingle. Brush. Graze. Tingle.

I fold the pajamas and place them on my hamper. Then I fling on my clothes for tomorrow.

Black dress on. More silky fabric. Grazing and brushing and—

And feeling. Feeling everything.

I head downstairs to (quietly—don’t want to wake anyone up) start my thirty-three checks.

Checking and checking and checking. My dress rubbing against my skin. My body reacting…and burning. Sensitive to everything. Feeling everything.

{Il Divo singing. “Alone.” Soon. Almost alone. Almost alone. Almost alone.}

THIRTY-THREE CHECKS. DONE THREE times. Without waking anyone up.

I grab my purse and phone, and I—

BUZZ.

A text. Obviously from him. It’s almost three o’clock in the morning. No one else is awake.

Open.

When you are finished, just open your front door.

He’s here. He’s here. He’s here.

He’s only a few feet away from—

My feet move to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open quiet—

Eyes on eyes.

He looks like I feel. Alive. Impatient. On—

His arms reach out and—

And take me. Pull me in.

His lips go right to mine. Mouths moving frantically. Tog—

A cough in the silence.

We both freeze, lips frozen together.

A young cough. Abby. In the living room. Coughing in her sleep.

His lips move maybe a millimeter. “Shh. Let’s get out of here.” His words fall right against my mouth. He says it again. “Let’s get out of here.” Each time his lips move, they hit mine. I—

I kiss him again. I can’t help it.

His mouth breaks into a smile against my lips. After a second, he pulls back a little, taking me with him, tugging me through the door. “Let’s go, Callie.”

IN HIS CAR.

It’s silent. But it doesn’t matter. My ears are fuzzy. Buzzing.
{And Il Divo is still singing in Spanish.}

He starts the car and backs out of my driveway. We—

One of his hands leaves the steering wheel and—

And moves right to my bare legs.

Warm fingers on my lower thighs. Rubbing back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Heat. Heat. Heat. Everywhere.

My back pressed against my leather seat. My arms—

His fingers slip under the hem of my dress. Reaching further and further up my thighs.

More heat.

So. Much. Heat.

{John Legend reappears with “
All of Me
.” All of me quivering. All of me burning. All of me—}

The car stops. Red light. No other cars anywhere. No one else out at three o’clock in the morning.

My hand moves over. Over to his jeans. Over to his leg.

His leg. Hard. Firm. Warm.

His breath catches. His hand pauses on my legs. Under my dress.

Light. Still. Red.

My hand slides slowly. Further up, up, up his jeans, his leg.

Touching him. Feeling him. All of—

Green light.

He groans. Breathes heavily. Takes his fingers off of the steering wheel and gently moves my hand back down, back down to his thigh.

He whispers. “Callie, if you don’t stop, I’m going to have to pull over and…and—”

He stops. Looks at me. Fervently. “I’d rather have you in my bed.”

In his bed. In his bed. In his—

He turns his head and puts his hand back on the steering wheel. He starts to drive again.

His other hand remains on my thighs. Under my dress. Still. Paused. Waiting.

My fingers rest on his leg. Waiting too.

Impatiently.

In his bed. In his bed. In his bed. Have you. Have you. Have you. Have me. Have me. Have me.

{John Legend. “
All of Me
.”}

WE ARE HERE. PULLING INTO his garage.

His hand still under my dress. My fingers still resting on his leg.

Still waiting.

Silent. Except for our breathing. Heavy breathing.

{And except for singing. Loud singing. John Legend singing.}

He turns off the—

“Before we go in…” Quiet. Looking straight ahead. Not looking at me. “Before I take you to my bedroom…my bed…”

His bed. His bed. His bed.

His hand, still burning against my—

“I want you to know…” He pauses. “I want you not to worry.”

I’m not worried. I’m not worried. I’m not worr—

“The sheets are clean. I change them every week. The comforter too. It’s clean. And the bed is clean. Rather new. I bought it last year. No one has been in it other than me.”

{Jason Derulo bounds in with “
Talk Dirty
.” Singing so—}

He coughs. Still not looking at me. “Does that sound okay? Because I can ch—”

“Stop.” My voice interrupts him. Stops him.

Is he serious right now? Does he really—

He looks at me. Concerned. Restless. Disheveled.

He’s serious. He’s worried right now. He’s—

Gotta fix this.

My hand steals slowly back up his leg. Creeping. Rubbing. Feeling.

The concern gradually melts away from his eyes, leaving a rawness behind. Raw hunger. Raw desire. Raw need. Raw—

“Let’s go in.” My mouth pushes out more words. Quiet voice. Demanding tone.

I pull my hand away from his lap and start to open my do—

Door open. I move one leg out and then the other, his hand falling away from my thighs as I move.

I push myself out of the car and move toward the white door, the door to his house, to his kitchen.

Legs wobbly. Body heavy. Skin tingling.

I hear him move behind me. Getting out of the car. Shutting the door. Walking up, up, up to—

To the house door. To me.

His hand, his arm, slides around my waist as he one-handedly pulls out his keys and unlocks the door.

His arm around my waist. His hand against the thin fabric of my dress.

Thin fabric. Warm arm. Thin fabric. Hot hand. Thi—

The door opens.

He guides me through it. Moving together. Walking together.

Bodies moving against each other. Leg against leg. Hip against hip.

Friction.

We make it in the door, through the doorway. Quickly, he shuts the—

He moves me, pushes me against the back of the door. Both of his arms completely around me now. Moving up and down and—

And everywhere.

Hips pressing into my hips. His jeans against my dress.

His lips on mine. A frenzy of kissing.

My hands in his hair. On his chest. All over.

My body smashed between the door and him. Solid door. Unmoving.

Solid him. Hard him. Pushing. Pressing. Unyielding.

Urgent kisses. No time for breath—

He pulls back a little. Just his face. Just enough so we can look at each other. Famished eyes on famished eyes.

His hips still press against mine. Crushing me against the door. Making my body ache. Making my body need to—

“Are you ready?” Throaty words. Blazing eyes.

Dizzy. Speechless.

Ready.

Ready.

Ready.

I nod.
{Il Divo starts singing again. A new song. In English. “
Every Time I Look at You
.”}

We stay there for another moment. Or two. Or three.

Bodies smashed together. Ready eyes on ready eyes. And—

He pulls back a little, groaning as our bodies part. He takes my hand in his, leading me through the kitchen and into the dining—

“There are the flowers that I owe you.” He pauses in the dining room, pointing at the table. Pointing at a bouquet of yellow roses in a vase. “I bought them after I left your house. For tomorrow.” He looks back at me. “But I couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

Couldn’t wait. Couldn’t wait. Couldn’t wait. Can’t wa—

He tugs on my hand, and we keep moving, my heels trying to keep up with him.

Through the dining room. Into some sort of softly lit living room. Through double doors and into—

He pulls me back to him. Bodies together. Lips together. Hands roaming.

Darkness. Only a dim shadow of light coming from the living room.

Feet moving. Walking forward and backward and sideways. Together. Moving and moving and moving until—

Until the edge of a bed…a mattress…a comforter…is behind my knees.

His lips move away from my mouth, wandering over my cheeks, my bare neck. His hands slide to my shoulders, pushing the top of my dress down so his mouth is free to move over my exposed shoulders, the top of my chest.

{Il Divo. Whole group. All four men singing at once.}

Body trembling under his lips.

My hands move up to the buttons on his shirt. Two buttons just beneath his collar. Undone.

His fingers find the back of my dress. The zipper.

Two more buttons. At his chest. Opened.

My zipper. Moving down.

My dress. Falling off. Completely off of my shoulders, to my waist.

His mouth, moving down.
{Il Divo. Stronger. Determined.}

My hands make their way past his shirt. Onto his chest. Onto his skin.

Scorching skin.

My dress falls the rest of the way down, the fabric skimming over my waist, my hips, my legs. His hands move to my back, finding the hooks on my—

My hands keep going, undoing one button after the next until I push his shirt off of his shoulders, off of his—

Unhook. Unhook. Unhook.

My chest becomes lose. The top half of me, completely un—

He pulls me against him. Bare skin against bare skin.

{Il Divo. Voices swelli—}

My hands move down to his belt. Pulling and tugging and fumbling.

And…undone.

Button of his jeans. Undone.

Zipper.

He breathes in, chest moving against mine. Heart beating errati—

Zipper. Undone.

Jeans moving down. Down. Down.

He kicks his shoes off to the side and steps out of his jeans in one swift movement. His hands push down on my shoulders. Push me back and down so I am sitting. Sitting on a bed. His bed.

Soft comforter. Cool under my bare legs.

The sound of a drawer opening and closing. The tearing open of a—

I slip my feet out of my heels. Leaving my shoes and dress behind. I move myself back onto the bed, pulling back the comforter and sliding between the—

The at least three million count sheets and—

And he is slipping in beside me. Right beside me.

Pulling me closer to him. So close. Bare legs wrapped around bare legs. Bare chest to bare chest. Bare—

He is completely undressed now. Ready.

Ready. Ready. Ready.

My body clings to his, only the thin material of my—

His hands slide down me. Down my chest, my stomach. Down. Down. Down. Fingers moving over my pair of black—

Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.

Fingers moving and moving and moving.
{Singing and singing and singing.}

Moving and moving and
{Voices swelling and swelling and swelling.}

{Building and building and—}
Building and building and—

{All voices bursting and—}
Tightening and tightening and moving and moving and—

Oh my God. Oh my God. OHMYGOD. OHMYGOD. OHMYGOD. OHMYGOD.

{Il Divo. Finishing their song.}
Releasing and releasing and releasing.

Body needing to be closer to him. Needing to be even clo—

His fingers work to remove my black pair of—

{Four voices. Starting their song all over again. They—}

Nothing covering me anymore.

His hands all over the place.

My hands...everywhere too.

Mouths spreading kisses. Covering bare skin.

Hot skin. Skin on—

He pulls back a little, looking right at me now.

“Are you sure?”

{“
Every Time I Look at You
.” Building back up.}

“Yes.”
Beyond sure.

He rolls himself up. Over me. On top of me. His legs between mine.

Hovering over me. His arms out, pressed down on both sides of my head. Holding himself up. Holding himself inches away from—