The Bully (Calamity Montana #4)(49)

I laughed. It was a laugh so easy and natural it took me by surprise.

It had been a long time since I’d just . . . laughed.

Maybe it caught Nellie off guard too because she stared at me with this strange expression on her face. Like when a receiver made a catch that he shouldn’t have made. Like it was a miracle play that would land him on the highlight reel.

We spent the rest of our evening talking about football. I told her about fights in the locker room. About scandals that had never made the press. About the assistant coach who’d been fired for sleeping with the owner’s daughter.

By the time we left the steakhouse, I’d laughed more times than I had in years. And when I parked against the sidewalk at her house, I wished for a few more minutes. For one more laugh. For another glimpse of her breathtaking smile.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight,” I said.

“You didn’t really need me there.”

“Yes, I did.” Wade would have kept pushing. And even if he’d left, exactly as he had tonight, I wouldn’t have stayed to eat alone.

Nellie touched the door handle, but paused, her fingers poised to pull. She looked across the cab, her gaze tracing the line of my nose down to my lips.

For a moment, I thought she’d lean over. That she’d close this gap, and I’d spend the night in her bed, not the Winnebago.

God, how I wanted her. To savor her body. To strip off that top. To kiss her lips until the red was on my skin, not hers.

Except she gave her head a tiny shake, then pulled the handle, the door popping open. She was three strides up her walkway before she slowed. The passenger door was still gaping open.

“Are you going to close the door?” I called.

She spun around, taking a step backward. Then she stopped. Her shoulders fell. “No.”

“No, you’re not going to close it?”

“Come inside, Cal.”

I closed the car door on my way to hers.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN





NELLIE





As we stepped inside my house, Cal’s hands came to my shoulders while he kicked the door shut. The sound was as loud as my thundering heartbeat.

A night with Cal was a horrible idea, and for a split second, I’d almost walked away. Why couldn’t I walk away?

From the moment I’d stepped out of his car, my body had been trembling with this insatiable need for more. These days, I always wanted more.

Was it my turn to initiate sex? For the life of me, I couldn’t remember who’d made the move last time. Did it matter? All I knew was that I burned for his touch.

I sagged against his chest as his hands skimmed up and down my arms, his fingertips leaving tingles in their wake. He pulled at the neck of my top, exposing my skin. Then his lips were there, barely a whisper as they traced the line of my jaw. “Fuck, I want you, Nell.”

My eyes drifted closed as his breath caressed the shell of my ear. “Then take me.”

On the floor. The couch. Against the wall again. I just wanted him inside me. I needed him to satisfy this ache.

The heat from his chest vanished as he stepped away.

I stood frozen, my heart in my throat, waiting for what he’d do next. Strip off my shirt. Loosen the waistband on my pants. Take down my hair. Cal was a master of anticipation.

His hand slipped into mine and as he tugged me forward, I opened my eyes and followed as he walked us to the stairs.

“Wait,” I whispered.

He ignored me and took the first step.

No. I didn’t want him in my bedroom. Any other room, but that one.

Cal had already ruined one of my bedrooms. Once he fucked me on my bed, I’d see him there. Always. I’d picture him naked between my sheets. I’d search for the scent of his cologne on my pillows.

But as he climbed the staircase, any other objection lodged in my throat.

I didn’t want Cal in my bed, but I didn’t want him to leave. The truth would lead to questions and the answers would only chase him away. So I let him tow me upstairs, and when we stepped through the threshold of my bedroom, I realized I should have pushed harder for a romp on the couch.

Cal looked like a dream in the muted light as he stood next to my bed. Handsome. Sexy. His laugh from dinner echoed in my ears.

That laughter had been magical. Unique. Tonight, he’d laughed his real laugh. A sound that came from deep in his chest because it was honest. And he’d given it to me.

“Turn around,” he ordered.

I obeyed, facing him with my back to the bed.

Cal’s hazel eyes darkened as he stepped away, his eyes never leaving mine as he started unbuttoning his shirt. One painful button at a time, it seemed to take hours. As each was loosened, I was granted a glimpse of his skin, until finally, he yanked the hem from his jeans and stripped it from his muscled shoulders.

My mouth went dry, taking in his abs and arms. The pulse in my core bloomed as I stared at the strength of his chest.

“Take your clothes off.”

Again, I obeyed. Outside the bedroom, I fought him tooth and nail for control. But the rules were different when our clothes began hitting the floor.

My heels landed with a thud on the carpet as I unbuckled the straps at my ankles and kicked them aside. The cool air raised bumps on my skin as my shirt plopped to the floor. When I unzipped my slacks, they slid from my legs as I shimmied them down my hips until the sleek material puddled at my feet.