I’m instantly cold at the loss of contact. And that’s when I know: I want him right here, right now. Any and all consequences can go straight to hell.
I shake my head, panicked at the thought that I’ve given him the wrong idea. All those worries from home don’t matter right now. Callum and I have managed to look past all that since leaving Maui. Now, we see who we really are, what we really want. And that’s each other.
“That’s not it at all. I don’t want to leave. It’s just . . .”
It’s just that I don’t know if one night with him will be enough. After all this buildup, all our flirting, this newfound connection between us, I suspect I’m going to want more.
But that’s impossible. In a few days, we’ll both be in Maui and life will be back to normal. I have no right to hope for anything other than tonight.
This temporary time-out is all we get. And it needs to be enough.
Callum steps toward me, closing the space between us. “Tell me what you want.”
I tug at the bottom of his shirt. “I need to hear you say the words.”
My chest heaves with every breath I take. The simmer inside of me is now a million invisible flames. It’s more than an ache; it’s need. I’m practically panting at how much I want him.
“Tell me this is bad, but you don’t care. Tell me you know what a terrible idea it is for us to do this because of our history, because when we go back to Maui, we’ll have to forget this ever happened,” I say. “Tell me that you’re willing to do it anyway. Because . . .”
Gently, he takes my chin between his thumb and index finger. “Right now I don’t care about any of that. I just want you.”
He finally presses his mouth to mine. Somehow it’s better than I imagined it would be. He teases at first, the tip of his tongue lapping at mine like I’m some delicious ice cream cone he can’t stop licking. He’s taking it slow, savoring me.
Given the expert way he worked my neck with his lips earlier, it’s no surprise he’s a dynamite kisser. I wasn’t expecting this level of mind-blowing though.
My insides are bursting at the intensity of this simple yet addicting kiss. Holy Christ, why don’t all men kiss like this? Slow, steady, tantalizing rhythm. Efficiency is overrated. Taking your time is where it’s at.
Pressing my palms against his chest is the only way to steady myself against the dizzying effect of Callum’s nuclear kiss.
Seconds pass, maybe even a minute or two. Then there’s a pickup, a leveling up of intensity. Callum’s tongue is getting very, very filthy, and I love it.
His hands, which started at my waist, are now in my hair. I’m gripping his wrists for dear life, like holding on to them is the only way I can keep myself alive and upright.
We’re both panting, both letting out soft moans every time the tiniest bit of air slips between our mouths.
I’m the first one to pull away. I need a minute. For oxygen, for my brain to process all the arousing sensations his mouth sends to my body.
With his hands holding my cheeks, he smiles down at me. “How’s that?”
“That’s . . . that’s . . .” I’m seeing stars as I wobble on unsteady feet. Words are simply not enough, but they’re all I have. “Why did you wait this long to kiss me?”
“Anticipation. It does a body good.”
“Whatever you’re doing with your body is damn good.”
He laughs, his face bright with amusement. “Is that so?”
“We’ll talk more about it later. I want to go upstairs. Now.”
Callum leads me upstairs down another stunning white marble hallway to a closed door at the end. He takes me to some random bedroom, shuts the door, tugs off his tie, and I forget where in the world I am. Because that gesture—that simple act of his forearm pulling fabric from his body—has me hypnotized. He’s got the right idea. Less clothes, more skin.
“Wait.” I walk up to him. “I want to do the rest.”
A slow smile crawls across his lips, and his hands fall to the side. Button by button, I release him from the crisp cotton. The white falls away, leaving behind the light honey glow of his skin. I run a hand across his chest. It’s as deliciously firm as I dreamed it would be.