Borrowed Souls (Soul Charmer #1)(57)
She grabbed Derek’s biceps, attempting to pull him closer. His strength might be a turn-on, but it stilled her from getting the closeness she craved. She started to say his name, to tell him what she needed, but his kisses cut her off. A quick, light brush of his lips against her collarbone, a little lick at her sternum, and he began to plant kisses lower and lower until his mouth latched on to one nipple. She whimpered as his teeth grazed her flesh and he redoubled his efforts. He was focused on her upper body, and with each touch he only made her crave him more.
She rolled her hips against his, finding a steady rhythm that spurred her need, but didn’t sate it. Derek’s kisses turned frenzied. They were both too gone to care if they were making out like teenagers. Maybe teenagers were on to something. She skated her hands down Derek’s stomach. Her fingers found the dusting of hair below his navel and traced it to his pants.
Derek pressed a gentle kiss to Callie’s lips. Softness wasn’t what she was after, though. Her skin was becoming more sensitized by the moment. Her jeans were heavy and confining. His bulky muscles could be heavy, too, but his heated body turned her languid. Hot stone massage via his hands? Hell yes. She hooked the tips of her fingers inside his pant waist, and yanked hard. His eyes widened and a deep rose rushed across his cheekbones.
“You sure?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.
He didn’t scare her. Her confidence brimmed as desire welled. “I’m not fucking subtle.”
“No, you’re fucking gorgeous though.”
She was ready to reply with a similar compliment, but Derek was done with banter, and Callie liked a focused man. He wrapped his arms around her, and turned them both, laying her on the couch on her back. He stepped away, and she instantly missed his touch. All she could do was watch as he deftly unbuttoned and removed his jeans and boxers, and then reached for hers. No matter how much of a hurry she was in, she wasn’t going to stop him from helping her disrobe. Warmth trailed behind Derek’s fingers as he dragged her pants and panties down her legs.
He took a moment to put on the condom, and Callie watched with fascination. Now would be the time for regrets, but she had none. If he’d faltered at the Charmer’s tonight, this would have been a bad idea. But he’d come through for her. He’d protected her more times in their short time together than anyone else had. It was nice to have a person who’d rally for her, and it was damn nice to have him naked and all to herself.
Derek’s kisses were no longer gentle or tentative. He went deeper with each one, taking control. She didn’t mind. He gave her enough of his weight atop her to spur thoughts of being delightfully small, but held back enough so she wasn’t crushed under his bulk. She’d expected him to enter her immediately, but he waited. As she arched her body in response to his fervent kiss, his length slowly rubbed against her. The inferno borne of this connection was hotter than any she’d experienced before. She dug her nails into his back. “Now.”
He kneeled between her legs. He traced the tip of his length down her sex and back again, his eyes locked on where their bodies would connect. She arched again, and he spared a glance up at her breasts before continuing to tease. She didn’t need to get worked up any further; she was already close to redlining, and this was turning her delirious. “Please,” she managed to eke out, despite the string of curse words ordering him to act funneling through her mind.
He didn’t need any further urging. Thank God. She didn’t need an extra soul to mask her from this act. She wanted him marked on her soul. The rushes of need and desire and connection fused in a miasma of pleasure. With each thrust of Derek’s hips, Callie slipped further into bliss. She grabbed at him, trying to pull him even closer. His lips found hers again, and she went flying over the edge.
She’d given Derek more than she’d planned, but as his body covered hers, she had no regrets.
—— CHAPTER FOURTEEN ——
One dozen eggs, a loaf of bread, grape jam, a pound of sliced smoked turkey, a nearly empty jar of mayonnaise, a gallon of milk, and a family size box of Frosted Flakes. Despite the grocery store trip the day before, Callie’s kitchen was significantly understocked.
Correction: it wasn’t stocked for company. Derek’s lingering presence in her bedroom was welcome, but still unexpected.
His arm had been crushing her when she awoke. He must have gained weight in his sleep, because it took her a good hour to extract herself from beneath it. Though the initial shock of finding him still in her bed—and still really naked—had taken up the first several minutes. He hadn’t bailed in the middle of the night, which both baffled and enchanted her. Callie hadn’t had a guy stay the night in at least two years. Booting him would have been wrong after how much they’d drank, she started to tell herself, but that justification was so flimsy, her conscience called bullshit.
Derek looked vulnerable laying in her bed. No leather to shield him. No scowl on his face to deter indifference. The covers had shifted low enough to let her see the dimples in his lower back. Callie had peeked below before tugging the comforter up. That ass wasn’t even the reason she’d let him stay. It wasn’t even that he’d fucked her into next Tuesday. Though, that wasn’t hurting the case. The truth was, safety was a scarce commodity in Callie’s life. Derek had given her that with a healthy dose of understanding last night. Hell if that didn’t mean something to her. Had she divulged enough last night to establish the connection both ways? Did she even want him that close, to see all the muck trapped inside? She undid her ponytail and reset it as a sloppy bun. At least she could control her hair.