a comfort to see him hanging on by a thread, just like me.
“And I thought you hated me,” I say before gasping.
“I never hated you.” Somehow he manages to keep the slow, even pace while talking. “But I can dislike someone and also think she’s hot. I’m a bloke, remember?”
I giggle through a moan. He’s hitting somewhere deep and fucking hell, it’s amazing.
Digging my nails into his back earns me a hiss, then a groan. “I don’t hate you anymore, Callum.”
“Good.” He leans up, deepening the angle between us. “Because I don’t hate you, either, Nikki.”
I hold my breath while he hooks his hands under my thighs. When he resumes, it’s faster, harder, and a whole new level of euphoria.
I press my eyes shut just as they start to roll back. That spot. That elusive spot every man had such a hard time locating is front and center now. I silently dub him the G-spot whisperer. Another deep thrust hits it again. Good thing I’m not trying to speak anymore, because I’ve lost all my words. All I have to offer are huffs of hot air and whimpering. Lots and lots of whimpering.
The edge of Callum’s mouth turns up, and I have to swallow to keep from choking at the divine sight. He looks like a god in this moment. His skin is a golden glow, painted in specks of sweat, highlighting every single cut muscle he possesses. And his expression—a cross between concentration and satisfaction. It’s hard physical work what he’s doing, but he relishes it. I can tell by the glimmer in his eyes, the way his hands cradle my legs so I’m comfortably supported. I can tell by the pinch of his jaw, those soft grunts he lets loose, that this is blowing his mind too.
For the second time in one night, pressure builds inside me. The feeling is almost too much, but all I want is more. These long, deliberate thrusts are the greatest physical sensations my body has ever experienced. I could explode at any moment, but I want this to last. Forever, if possible.
Arching my back, I press my head against the pillow. I cry out, sounding like a rabid banshee.
A muttered curse falls from his lips. “That’s it. Don’t hold back.”
Pressure and heat collide, and I couldn’t hold back if I tried. The deep thrusts keep coming like an endless loop of crashing waves. Callum and my G-spot are new best friends, it seems. Over and over, he hits it. Over and over, the sensations build to an overwhelming peak. His pace shifts from impressive to phenomenal. If Callum were a sex doll, I’d buy a dozen. His stamina, his technique, his adoration of me and my body, it’s all perfection.
When I burst, I’m even louder than before. And just like before, I’m ablaze from the inside out. Ecstasy pulses through every inch of skin and bone. My blood pumps hot, like lava flowing through my veins. Every muscle tightens, then loosens. Panting, I clutch Callum’s forearms and watch his face as he hits his own peak.
He’s a million times quieter than I am, and it’s endearing as all get-out. His teeth clench, his face reddens, his brow wrinkles, and every vein in his neck bulges. There’s a grunt, then a low groan. It’s so very masculine, and I wholeheartedly adore it.
Collapsing on top of me, he buries his face into the side of my neck. I wrap my arms and legs around his torso, my rapid panting finally easing.
“Good God, Nikki,” he wheezes into the pillow.
“Speak for yourself.”
He chuckles, rolls off of me, then grins as he settles to my side. I burrow my face into his chest, and he wraps his arms around my torso.
Afterglow sets in, and I’m instantly drowsy. After a while, through the fatigue, Callum’s words from earlier seep in.
I just want you.
I drift off, wondering what exactly the cost of bedding my enemy will be, how badly I’ll burn.
Chapter 10
I wake cradled against Callum’s bare chest, sunlight warm on my face. Eyes closed, I hum, satisfied. Then I check my phone on the nightstand and breathe a sigh of relief. No panicky texts from my aunt and uncle checking up on me. Thankfully, I had the foresight to text them last night just before falling asleep and tell them that I lost track of time during drinks and would stay with my “friend.” Again, that familiar tinge of guilt for lying to them hits, but I remind