Safe with Me (With Me in Seattle, #5)(41)

“Oh sweet Moses that feels good.”

The heel of my foot is resting against his crotch and I feel his cock stir.

“Don’t start,” he warns.

“Why not?” I ask and rub the ridge in his pants with my foot.

“I’m not ready, Legs.” He clenches my foot in his hand and then returns to rubbing it again.

“Uh, Caleb, we’ve been having sex for a few weeks now.” I frown over at him and am shocked to see color spread up this cheeks. He stops rubbing my foot and turns his blue gaze to mine, his eyes ice blue and angry as hell.





Chapter Twelve


“What?” I ask and frown over at him.

“How can you be so normal?” He asks, staring at me with those amazing eyes.

“What are you talking about?” I ask and pull my feet away, tucking them under me.

“I could have killed you last night, Brynna.”

I sigh and hang my head in my hands, so frustrated with him.

“Is this why you won’t touch me?”

“Damn right,” he confirms with a firm nod.

“Caleb, you’re being ridiculous.” I lower my hands and look up to find him watching me like I’ve just produced a second head.

“Brynna, I’ve snapped necks without giving it a second thought. I have that in me. I had my hand,” he holds his large hand up for me to see, “wrapped around your tiny neck and was squeezing the life out of you, and all you’ve done today is be sweet and nice and f*cking normal. Nothing about this is normal!”

“No, it’s not normal, Caleb, but it wasn’t on purpose, damn it!” I lean in and grip his forearm with my hand, holding onto him tightly. “You would never hurt me, babe.”

“I’m capable of it.” He shakes his head and sighs.

“No. You’re. Not.” He refuses to look me in the eye and he’s really starting to irritate me. “Look at me.”

He shakes his head no, staring down at my hand, and I don’t know why but he just pisses me right off. I stand up and stomp away, up the stairs to my bedroom and into the bathroom. I have the urgent need to slam a door, but I don’t want to wake the girls.

“Alright, Legs, why are you so pissed?” Caleb asks from the doorway of the bathroom, arms crossed over his chest, watching me.

“Because you’re so damn stubborn!” I turn away from him and lean against the bathroom sink, head bowed. “I don’t know what to say to you to make you understand that you didn’t do it on purpose, and that I’m fine.”

“I’m just so damn afraid of hurting you,” he murmurs, making me whirl to face him.

“Not touching me hurts me.” I lean my hips against the sink and cross my arms, mirroring him. “Not making love to me hurts me. Being tender and sweet to my girls and then backing away from me, hurts me.”

“I want to touch you so f*cking badly it’s killing me,” he whispers, his eyes closed and jaw clenched.

“I’m right here,” I whisper back and slowly move to him. He’s not going to make the first move, and I’ll be damned if I’ll go back to having a platonic relationship with him.

I love him.

I slowly wrap my arms around his waist and press myself against him, his arms still folded and pinned between us. Leaning in, I press a kiss to his sternum and nuzzle his chest through his soft t-shirt with my nose and look up to find his blue gaze watching me.

“You could never hurt me,” I whisper and kiss his chin. “You love me.”

His eyes widen for a fraction of a second and the next thing I know I’m in his arms, his hands are planted on my ass and he lifts me to him, kissing me ravenously.

“Are you sure?” He growls.

“If you don’t get us over to that bed,” I respond between kisses, “You’ll have to worry about me hurting you.”

He chuckles and carries me to the bed, and I slide down him until my feet hit the floor and immediately begins stripping me out of my clothes.

Not one to feel left out, I return the favor, pull his black t-shirt up his chest and over his head, and let my hands glide down his smooth skin, over his nipples and down his muscular torso.

“You have abs for days,” I murmur, watching my hands roam up and down his stomach.

“We had to do a lot of sit ups,” he mutters dryly and pulls me down onto the bed with him, and then, as if I weigh nothing at all, he flips me around, facing his feet, and lays on his back. “I’ve been dreaming of having your sweet cunt sitting on my face for months.”

“I hate that word, you know,” I tell him and balance myself with my hands flat on his stomach as he plants my knees beside his shoulders and spreads my core wide open.

“What?” He gently licks me, barely running his tongue along my lips, making me gasp. “You swear almost as much as Jules, except when the girls are around, of course.”

“It just seems like a dirty word,” I whisper and gasp again when I feel his tongue sweep from my clit down to my lips and back up again, harder now, pushing against my tender flesh. “Ah, God that feels good.”

“I have the best view right now.” He wraps his lips around my clit and gently pulls, making a smacking noise as he lets go and I can’t help but move my hips in a circle over him, afraid of smothering him.