Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #3)(69)

“Focus,” he breathes as my fingers trail down his bare chest. I feel light-headed and strange as Callum lets go of me and does a series of impressive leaps and spins, his legs coming up above my head. He dances around me as I turn, trying to keep my eyes on him at all times. He moves so quickly that it isn’t easy. My breath quickens, my heartbeat thunders, my vision narrows down to a single pinprick.

He’s very clearly performing for me and me alone; this dance is meant for no other woman.

Callum holds out his hand again and this time, when I grab him, he pulls us together for a formal waltz. His feet meet mine, pushing them back, drawing them forward with subtle physical cues. He turns his head away from me though, forcing us to turn in a circle and then another. Another. Another.

When he clasps my right hand with his own, fingers woven together, and holds my hip with his other, I hear the drop in the song coming. Callum straightens his arm, forcing me back and then yanking me forward. He drops me back and sweeps the floor with my hair, back and forth, lifting me up again and grabbing both of my hands.

He slides me forward, my legs between his, until I’m nearly underneath him. I manage to keep my muscles tight, so I move like he wants me to. Cal lifts me back up, pulls me close and then kneels down, laying me out beneath him, my legs still between his.

He undulates his body above mine several times, my right hand still locked with his, his blue eyes on mine.

Cal rolls off of me and then sits up on his knees, his body now perpendicular with mine. This time, when he offers his hand, I crawl to him. He slides me the rest of the way across the floor and I wrap my legs around his waist.

I fall back and he chases me down, straddling me and looking into my eyes. A bit of sweat drips off of him and onto me, but I don’t care. I just want him to fucking kiss me.

The song slows again, and Callum pulls back, rising to his feet and dancing around me like he’s worshipping at some dark altar. I just didn’t expect to be his wicked goddess. My breathing fogs the floor as I roll to my side to watch him. He’s so darkly beautiful, so twisted and complex. Why don’t I know more? That’s all I want, to know everything.

He comes back to me then, hauling me to my feet as effortlessly as one might take a breath. Cal pulls my body to his, encouraging me to grind against him, our hips moving together like we’re fucking. I am beyond soaked, my nipples hard points, my heart thundering.

“Callum,” I murmur, because I just want him now. It shouldn’t have taken us this long to be together anyway. And I really, really should’ve slept with him before Oscar. “Please.”

He doesn’t reply to me, running his hands down my sides and then stepping forward so that I very naturally take a step back. Callum takes my waist in both hands, and I dip back naturally, letting myself go weightless in his arms. He lays me down again, covering my body with his, undulating on me again.

“If it cost me my body, and my future in dance, to be with you, then it’ll have all been worth it.” The song ends as Cal presses his lips to my clavicle, tasting the sweat on my skin. Another one starts right up—this time it’s the remix of “Sweet Dreams” by Besomorph—and the tone of it is perfectly somber and sensual at the same time. “Worth every broken bone,” Cal whispers again, his voice husky and low. He kisses down my chest until he gets to the sweat-soaked tank top I’m wearing.

So much for dance lessons.

Looks like I’m about to get a lesson in something else.

Cal very carefully slips the shirt off, leaving me in my sports bra. He tosses the tank top aside and keeps going, his mouth trailing kisses down my belly.

“Worth my voice,” he continues, kissing along the seam in my leggings. He starts to suck and kiss on my clit through the fabric, driving me absolutely up the goddamn wall as he nibbles and teases it with his teeth. “Worth my innocence.”

“Stop that,” I groan, grabbing at his blond hair. As soon as my fingers tangle in those golden strands, Cal lets out a throaty moan that has me writhing beneath him. The sound of it is like the kiss of night, a dark chocolate truffle that melts on the tongue. All of a sudden, that’s all I can think about: how to make him moan for me like that again.

With shaking hands, I unzip his hoodie and splay my fingers on his chest, teasing his scars and then rubbing my thumbs over his nipples. He groans for me again, clasping his hands over mine and encouraging me to touch all of him, to trace every scar, to understand every imperfection.

Even this, what we’re doing together, it feels like a dance. Callum works his body for me, rubbing against me, making his muscles ripple as he thrusts and rubs me in all the right places with the hardness beneath his sweats.

“Touch all of me, Bernie. All of me. It’s yours. You can have it.” He drops his mouth to my neck, kissing all the sore places that Vic and Aaron left. My fingers can’t seem to stop touching the pretty gold strands of his hair, massaging his scalp, finding the scars on his throat. It’s why he has this voice, this darkly beautiful twist of menace that matches the creeping in his spirit.

Cal rolls us over, so that I’m on top, sliding his palms up my waist. I take the sports bra off for him because, let’s be honest, it’s like wrestling two boulders to get these tits free. One of the disadvantages of having large breasts. Frankly though, I feel like the benefits are more than worth it, especially when Callum’s eyes light up and he cups the pair of them in his hands.