you didn’t catch me in a day, sucking me back in, making me feel like if you weren’t by my side, I’d die of frostbite.”
Cal wasn’t poetic. Cal didn’t use flowery words. And there was a simplicity in this analogy that only Cal could pull off. But he’d thought this through. He’d worked it out in his head what he wanted to say to her. And it made her throat tight. It made her belly warm. It made her lick her lips because she wanted a taste of Cal. She wanted to warm him up.
She placed a hand on his chest and walked her fingers up to where she knew the sun tattoo lay beneath his clothes.
He reached up and covered her hand with his own. “I know I don’t deserve this, but I’m asking anyway. Be patient with me. I’m opening my eyes, Jenna. I swear I am. But it’s taking my eyes a while to adjust in the light, all right?”
His words—oh, his words—were seeping in all her cracks, and they were heating her body from the inside out. She didn’t know whether her patience with Cal was a strength or a weakness, but right now, she didn’t care, not when he was in her foyer, baring his heart the best he could.
She couldn’t take his voice anymore. She dug through the gravel, felt the soft velvet on her fingers, and crashed her lips to Cal’s.
He was mint against her Dr. Pepper, and she gripped his shoulders with both hands, tugging him closer, walking backward until her butt hit the wall behind her. Her head would have cracked into the drywall, but Cal’s hand was there, cushioning the blow. And that simple touch sent her heart into freefall.
She dug her nails into his skin and moaned into his mouth. Cal echoed the sound, and just when she thought she’d die from the kiss, he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. His breath coasted over her face, and she nudged his nose with hers. “See?” she said. “I can speak in kiss too.”
His eyes fell closed, and then he dropped his head to her shoulder. She threaded her fingers through his hair.
When he straightened, his eyes were a little red, his lips wet, but he looked happy and more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. “I gotta get back out to Asher. I’ll call you, Sunshine.”
And then he was walking out her door.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“DIE, YOU UGLY motherfucker!” Brent hollered from the living room where he sat on the couch with Asher, playing some game that had a lot of guns and blood.
Cal sat at the kitchen table, paying bills, which was something he did most Saturday mornings. Best to get it out of the way so he could enjoy the rest of the weekend.
Although usually, he did it in silence. Today, Brent and Asher were hollering at the TV screen, and Jenna stood at the kitchen sink, finishing up the dishes from breakfast.
He licked the envelope for the electric bill and paused to take her in. She’d turned on the small radio he’d mounted under the cabinets and swayed to the beat of a classic-rock song. She wore a pair of short-as-hell jean shorts and a button-down shirt of his over a tank top.
Her hair was down, a mass of brown waves, which he’d run his fingers through last night. And again this morning. And every chance he got in the last two weeks since that night in her foyer when she’d agreed to be patient with him. They’d both been busy, so he hadn’t had much time with her. She hadn’t slept over yet, because although they were in this unspoken, odd trial period, neither was ready for the emotions that arose between them when they slept together. And even though he wanted to—God, he wanted to—he knew they weren’t ready for that again yet.
Kisses, though? They were allowed. And some heavy petting. Along with heavy breathing. He kind of felt like he was in high school again, where a boob-grab was like winning the lottery.
But this was good, kind of like dating, and Cal was finding he liked this Jenna even more than the high-school Jenna. It made him wonder, if they had stayed together all those years ago, if they would still be a couple. The separation might have been what they needed for Cal to get his head on straight and for Jenna to grow into her independence.
As far as life with Asher,