Fight or Flight(71)

My second thought, whatever it might have been, was interrupted by an intense punch of physical longing deep in my belly as I took in his familiar blue eyes and the way his suit stretched over his biceps as he held me. He always looked handsome but kind of rough and uncivilized in a suit. It was so sexy it was almost unbearable to look at him.

I did have thoughts, questions. Why is he here? How long is he here for?

But those weren’t a priority.

Right then my desires were the priority. The need to feel his skin against mine, to taste his lips, to touch him, to have him touch me, felt like a basic, necessary requirement to breathe.

My face was level with his strong chest as I leaned into him. As always, just standing there, he made me feel small, fragile, feminine, and I wondered how I could have possibly thought anyone could ever make me feel the way he made me feel.

I suspected I was glaring at him in a mixture of frustration, resentment, and utter longing. He glowered right back at me.

Vaguely, I was aware of Patrice excusing herself, but everything was muted around us. The music, the people. And I no longer felt the chill, because a fire had erupted inside of me.

Without saying a word, I reached up and took one of his hands off my bicep and curled mine around it. I turned, his hand dropping from my other arm. He didn’t let go of my hand as I began to slowly—far more sedately than I inwardly felt—lead him through the crowd of the upper deck.

My hand tightened on his and he squeezed it back as I tentatively walked down the spiral staircase in my heels. There was no one on the lower deck. I led him to the patio doors, inside the small living space, to the master bedroom.

I didn’t consider my friend’s privacy, or how irresponsible I was acting. In that moment I was selfishly aware of only two things.

Caleb Scott.

And my lust for him.

I took out Patrice’s key card and led us into the private master bedroom. I dropped Caleb’s hand to turn to face him as he closed and locked the door behind us.

We stared at each other a moment, my chest rising and falling visibly as I struggled to catch my breath.

I opened my mouth to say something, although I wasn’t sure what, and instead let out a little gasp as I found myself jerked against him.

He immediately picked me up like I weighed nothing and I wrapped my legs around his waist, my dress riding up, as he spun and held me up against the wall. His mouth claimed mine and I sighed into him in what I could only name utter relief.

Our harsh breathing filled the bedroom as he broke the greedy kiss to stare at me in longing that matched my own.

My breath stuttered as his fingers slipped beneath my underwear. Caleb’s eyes darkened at finding me so aroused, his features growing taut with restraint … and then whatever control he’d exerted over himself snapped.

“Inside my jacket. Wallet,” he demanded.

I slipped my hand under his lapel and found the wallet tucked in the inside pocket. My hands shook as I withdrew it and removed a condom. I put his wallet back as I tore the condom wrapper open with my teeth. Caleb took it from me impatiently.

He unzipped his trousers and I gasped at the heat of him throbbing between my legs before I felt him lean all of his body weight against me to hold me against the door. My thighs tightened around his hips as he used both hands to roll on the condom. Then he had a hand back under my ass, holding me up, as his other one slid up my waist to rest possessively over my right breast. I watched his gaze turn triumphant as he nudged aside my underwear and thrust into me. The slight discomfort I felt dissipated, replaced with pleasure that tingled down my spine, through my legs, rippling in my belly as he rocked inside me.

Our breaths puffed against each other’s lips and I gripped his waist, urging him closer, harder. It was as though I couldn’t get him deep enough, close enough. As though I needed him to lock some piece of me back into place, a piece of me I’d lost when he left.

As if Caleb felt my urgency, or shared it, he picked up his pace. My head flew back against the door but only for seconds before his hand slid behind my nape and forced it back up.

His eyes blazed into mine and without saying a word I understood his demand.

Look at me.

See me.

This is us. No one else.

I nodded.

Caleb’s hold on me tightened and he slammed his hips against mine.

It was hard, fast, desperate.

Six weeks without him felt like an eternity and it barely took any time for the tension inside of me to tighten to the breaking point. With one more hard drive, Caleb shattered me.

A cry—almost a scream—tore out of me as wave after wave of deep, hard pleasure rolled through me. His long, guttural groan sounded in my ear and his grip on my thigh tightened to biting and painful as he found his own release.

Caleb held me pinned against the door as we both tried to catch our breath. I felt every inch of him inside me, on me. The familiar smell of his cologne flooded through me and almost brought tears of sweet relief to my eyes.

My throat was tight with emotion I did not want to identify.

“It’s not enough,” Caleb said, lifting his head to look at me. I didn’t give him my eyes this time, afraid of what he’d find in them. Thankfully, he let me have my privacy. “We need tae get out of here. I need you again.”

This brought my gaze up. “I have questions.”

“Aye, I’m sure you do. But I doubt you want tae get caught in here.”