Getting Schooled (Getting Some #1)(54)

Soft piano notes float up around us, and she turns her eyes to the stage below.

David and Layla are center stage. He starts first, singing as Seymour, offering Layla his hand and telling her to wipe off her mascara—singing about how things were bad, but now everything is going to be okay. Layla gazes up at him, like he’s her hero, and the music climbs and her stunning voice rises. They sound good together—stronger and softer, complementing voices.

“Look at them, Garrett. Aren’t they amazing?”

But all I can look at is her. The way her hair shines and her face glows in the halo of the stage lights, her pink lips parted and her eyes wide and full of wonder and awe.

She takes my breath away.

I slide my hand across her back, covering her hip, tucking her against me.

“They’re amazing, Callie . . . because that’s what you are. You made them that way.”

She lets out a little sigh, wraps her arms around my waist, and rests her head on my bicep, and we watch her students sing.

Some guys would worry that they could be falling too hard and fast for a woman they’ve technically only been dating a few months. But not me. Because I know the irrefutable truth.

It’s too late—I already fell, a long time ago.



~



Callie can’t come over to my place that night—her mom is hell-bent on bringing all the holiday decorations up from the basement and getting the house set for Christmas. It shouldn’t be a big deal—but tonight, I’m antsy about it. Just . . . hungry for her. Maybe it’s the realization that she’s just across town, so close, when for so many years, I’d think of her but she was far out of my reach. Or maybe it’s the last, cute text she sends about decorating:

Callie: Looks like I’m the elf for the night.

And doesn’t that get me thinking hot, deviant thoughts about sexy, Christmas themed outfits—thigh-high white stockings, red velvet thongs, silk bows, and fur-trimmed handcuffs . . . these are a few of my favorite things.

Just before midnight, I’m sitting on my couch, still all charged up—rock hard with thoughts of her.

I look over at Snoopy. He stares back at me.

“Fuck it, right, buddy? I should just go over there?”

He lifts his nose and lets out three shrill, rolling barks.

Translation: Damn straight, dude. Why are you still here with me?

My dog is a genius.

I give his belly a rub and kiss his head. Then I grab my keys.

It’s pouring rain outside and colder than a polar bear’s cock, but that doesn’t stop me from hopping in my Jeep and driving to Callie’s parents’. The house is dark except for the front porch light that illuminates the evergreen wreath on the door. I wonder if Callie put it there with her pretty hands, and the thought makes me smile. I park at the curb, a little ways down the street so I don’t wake her parents, and jog through the rain, across the lawn. I hop the chain-link fence into the backyard and slide up to Callie’s bedroom window in the back. It’s a route my feet remember well.

The pink-shaded lamp on her nightstand is on and she’s turned away from the window, bent over, putting laundry away in her bottom dresser drawer.

And even though it’s frigging freezing, the gorgeous view of her creamy, curvy ass peeking out of those tiny sleeping shorts is more than enough to warm me—from the crotch up. I tap the window with my knuckle, softly, so I don’t scare her. But Callie still jumps, yanks a medal she got in tenth grade off the wall, and spins around, holding it over her head like a sling shot. Her eyes are wide and her mouth is round in a tight, surprised O.

Yep—makes me want to jam my cock in there—just to feel her gasp and hum around it.

When she realizes it’s me her face collapses with relief, and she grabs at her chest. Her blond hair swings across her shoulders as she marches that tight little ass over to the window, slamming it open.

“You just took five years off my life! Are you nuts? What the hell are you doing here?”

I shrug. “I wanted to see you.”

Callie’s cheeks are flushed and her eyes are that bright, sparkling green—it’s like she gets fucking prettier every time I see her.

“You would’ve seen me tomorrow morning.”

“Nope, couldn’t wait that long.”

She moves back as I lift myself through her window—and shuts it behind me. Then I stand up, dripping on her cream carpet.

Callie pulls at my shirt. “Take this off. Your lips are turning blue.”

Together, we lift it over my head and Callie gasps when she touches my icy chest. The sound goes straight to my dick.

“Garrett, you’re freezing!”

I step closer, putting my arms around her, feeling all her sweet, soft warmth, nuzzling my nose with hers, wanting her so damn much.

“Warm me up, then, baby.”

Her hands slide through my hair, down my neck, and across my shoulders, rubbing heat into my skin.

Her voice is husky. “My parents are in their room. We have to be quiet.”

How many times has she said those words to me, in this room? A dozen times, maybe a hundred.

“I can be quiet,” I remind her. “You’re the screamer in the group.”

I slide my hands up her rib cage, taking her pajama shirt with me, baring her pale, perfect breasts. If I went blind at this moment and those beauties were the last sight my eyes would ever see? I’d be good with that.