Kiss the Sky (Calloway Sisters #1)(62)

“No,” he says, not making this easy for me. He rests a hand on the back of my neck, so near now that his chest touches mine. He inhales strongly, my body closing in on him. The tension winds me in a taut strand, the place between my legs beginning to pulse for touch. He kisses right outside of my lips. “Answer me,” he murmurs with a deep, husky voice.

“Define strange,” I breathe.

He’s abandoned his wine bottle somewhere. And I don’t even care to search for it. “Not normal to society’s traditional standards.”

Yes, my fantasy is definitely abnormal. I’ve thought about it a few times before, and I have no idea why it aroused me. “I shouldn’t be turned on by it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He brushes my hair out of my face again, his gaze steadily and slowly skimming every inch of me, heating me up more than the alcohol now.

“I think my fantasy is weird, even for your standards.”

He stops stroking me and his eyebrow arches, pure curiosity pouring through his gaze. “Now you have to tell me.”

“I picture you.” My vocal cords freeze.

“Good. Keep going.”

I smack his arm.

“I picture you as well,” he says. “I have since I was seventeen.”

“Really?”

“It wasn’t fair to the other people I was with, but you’ve been the most fascinating person to me. And no one could really compare in my mind.”

I rephrase his words and hear I love you. Even if he won’t ever say them. This proclamation inflates my courage. And I sit up a little straighter on his lap. I lick my lips and continue, “I picture you and me.”

“We’re getting somewhere close, I suspect.”

I glare. “We can move on if you don’t want to hear it.”

“Rose,” he says affectionately, “I would sit here for eighty more years and listen to you talk. I love the sound of your voice and every meaning behind your words.”

“So you love my voice but you don’t love me?”

He grips my butt hard, and a gasp catches in my throat. “Maybe you should be labeled smartass after we fuck.”

I actually laugh.

He smiles with me. “Tell me,” he whispers, his lips tickling my ear. “N’ai pas peur.” Don’t be afraid.

I swallow. “I may not like it, even though I’ve imagined it.”

He groans, half in frustration, the other half in arousal. He breathes more heavily than before. “You’re killing me.”

He hardens beneath me. I really, really love that power. “Maybe I should draw out the suspense then and never tell you.”

“No.” He cups my face in a strong hand. “If you could live inside my mind right now, you’d realize how crazy you’re making me.”

“I want to be in your mind,” I say honestly, the alcohol doing its trick as I run my hands across his chest, popping the buttons of his white shirt.

“You’re almost all the way there.”

That does it. I take a deep breath and I tell him. “I’m always sleeping when it happens.” I don’t break his gaze. I stay strong. I can tell him my fantasy. I can do this without balking like a coward. “And I wake up to you inside of me…thrusting…” I trail off as I try to read his expression that stays blank.

I can’t tell whether he thinks I’m weird or not.

His hand rises from my neck to the back of my head, and he kisses my unmoving, frightened lips before he whispers, “I’ve done much stranger things, Rose.” I hear the smile in his words, and I immediately relax. “Your turn,” he says. And just like that, he brushes it off so I don’t keep fretting.

It felt good to share that, to be more open sexually. I think I could do this more often with him. It’s not so hard. “Truth or dare?” I ask, my knuckles whitening as I grip the bottle of my Patron, pent up the longer he touches me.

“Truth.”

“What rouses you more, my body or my brain?”

His eyes drift to the tops of my breasts while one hand slides up my nightgown, settling on my bottom above my panties. “Both, equally.”

If I wasn’t so intoxicated by his presence and the liquor, I would make him give me a definitive answer, but I let it slide.

“Truth or dare?” he asks.

The last truth was difficult, and I know he won’t make it any easier. So I say, “Dare.”

He exhales deeply, so very aroused. Places in my body are clenching that have never clenched before. “I dare you,” he says, “to let me take off your nightgown.”

Before I even nod, his hands slip all the way beneath the silk, and he slowly lifts the fabric over my head, my breasts visible for his intense, heady gaze. My nipples already stand at attention.

I love the way he’s staring at me. It makes me feel more than just beautiful. I feel like I’m his. Like no one else could possibly compare to me. He doesn’t even have to say the words. I see it in his eyes. I can practically read it in his mind.

I sit on his lap, only in black panties, while he’s fully clothed. I want to strip him, but when I try to take off his unbuttoned shirt, he grips my wrists hard in disapproval. Right, we’re still playing the game. “Truth or dare?” I ask him.