An Optimist's Guide to Heartbreak (Heartsong #1)(56)

I hear the front door snap shut behind me as I glance around the dimly lit living room that smells like smoky amber. “So, what did you want to—”

My question is cut short when his hands grip my waist, and I freeze.

“I should probably offer you a drink or something, but I can’t fucking wait.”

He gathers handfuls of my hair, layering it over one shoulder while his lips tilt down to scatter kisses along the other. My sweater dips lower, giving him more skin to drag his mouth over.

Oh my God.

“Do you still taste like bubblegum?” The tip of his nose glides up the arc of my neck until his teeth find my earlobe. He nibbles on it. “I bet you do.”

Instantly, there’s a lake in my underwear.

I’d be a literal statue if my body wasn’t suddenly trembling and leaning back against his chest on instinct.

Cal’s breath warms the sensitive skin just below my ear as one hand curls around my hip, and the other continues to hold my hair to the side, his grip on it tightening. “You still smell like pears,” he whispers raggedly, his fingers inching up my sweater to skim my lower belly. “Fruity and sweet. So fucking gorgeous.”

A little moan falls out of me. I’ve never been touched like this, talked to like this, which is partly humiliating, but mostly addicting.

Jessica, Jessica, Jessica.

Her name stampedes through my mind with steel hooves, and I spin around to face him. “What…what are you doing?”

His eyes are dark and hooded as he stares down at me, both hands now around my waist, under my sweater. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“I…” I lift my hands to clutch his shirt as my body sways and teeters. “A-are you going to kiss me?”

“I’m going to do a lot more than kiss you.” Bending down, his rough stubble tickles the side of my cheek as he murmurs against my ear, “I’m going to destroy you, Lucy. In the best fucking way.”

I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can’t even keep myself upright as I fall into him, my forehead pressed against the breadth of his chest. “Oh,” I squeak out. “You…you want me?”

“What the hell do you think?” He reaches down for my hand and tugs it to the hard bulge straining his jeans.

I almost die on the spot when I grip his erection. Hard, massive, terrifying. I’ve never touched a penis before, not ever. Not clothed, not bare, not even a pretend penis, like a dildo.

“You want me?” he counters, kissing the top of my head, still holding my hand against him.

I nod because I do, and that’s the truth, but all my fears are bubbling to the surface, and I’m scared. So, so scared. “I wasn’t…I don’t…” My breathing is unsteady, my body wracked with tremors. Fear, lust, confusion, inexperience.

Cal pulls back a few inches to look down at me. “What’s wrong?”

Shaking my head, I wet my lips and close my eyes, my hand falling away from him. “I just…”

“Talk to me. Something’s wrong.”

I can’t look at him as the silence thickens between us, but I nearly topple forward when he steps away, his grip on me loosening.

“You don’t want to,” he says.

“No, I do, but I—”

“You look like you’re going to throw up.”

Mortification rockets through me, heating my already flushed cheeks. I feel like a pathetic teenager. Gathering enough courage to open my eyes, I peek up at him as I wring my sweater between my hands. “I just…I wasn’t expecting this.”

Cal looks confused. His brows furrow between his eyes, gaze scanning my face like he’s searching for something. “Did you think I brought you here to play Yahtzee?”

I swallow. “Well, not Yahtzee, specifically. Monopoly crossed my mind. Maybe Scrabble.”

“Christ.” He makes a sound like a laugh, but it’s not a laugh. Blowing out a breath, he runs a hand through his hair. “You can't be that na?ve.”

His words have me cowering back a little, flooding me with embarrassment.

“Sorry,” he mutters off my deer-in-headlights expression. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he looks off to the side. “I just thought it was pretty clear when I asked you to come home with me.”

I realize he’s right—I am na?ve. In retrospect, it should have been obvious by the heat in his eyes, the way he was touching me on the bike, how he’d already tried to kiss me on his couch not long ago. But I told him we couldn’t, and I thought that was it. He’s hardly spoken to me since that night. “If you were anyone else, I might have considered that.”

“Anyone else,” he echoes drily. His eyes draw back up to mine. “Gee, thanks, Lucy. It’s great to know I’m the absolute last person on the planet you would consider sleeping with.”

“No, God, that’s…that’s not what I meant.” Flustered, I drag my fingertips through my hair, pulling it back as I try to pinpoint the right words. “You’re the last person I was expecting to ask me that. I thought you were mad at me after we got off the ride. It just…it didn’t even cross my mind.”

“I’m not mad at you. I’ve never been mad at you.” Cricket sneaks out from underneath the couch and starts circling his ankles. “It’s more than that,” he decides, looking me over, head to toe. “What are you afraid of?”