Stolen Course (Wrecked and Ruined #2)

“Are we going to do this or what? We have been dancing around this for weeks on the phone. Now that I’ve seen you without a shirt, I won’t need the foreplay you were probably going to skip anyway,” I blurt out then offer him a sarcastic smile.

“Of course we are going to do this, Emmy.” He reaches forward, pulling my ponytail down to force my eyes to connect with his. “But you’re wrong about that whole skipping-the-foreplay thing. I’ve been waiting for weeks now to taste you. I have a seven-course meal planned for this evening. If you’re lucky, I might even let you taste too.” He drags one quick swipe of his tongue across my parted lips. I’m unable to move as my head swirls with thoughts of this so-called feast. “So I’ll keep the shirt off if you want me to. I would have sent you shirtless pictures weeks ago if I’d known it would have had this effect on you.” He brushes his fingers over my hardened nipples. They have probably been showing through my shirt all night. Note to self, wear padded bras when hanging out with sex-personified Caleb Jones.

Unable to keep it in any longer, I moan and sway forward to finally connect with his mouth. He dodges my kiss and instead licks up my neck and whispers, “Patience,” into my ear.

A tidal wave of chills spreads across my body.

“So, was that a yes to the beer?” he asks before taking a step away.

It takes me a few seconds before I’m actually able to clear my lust-filled head enough to form a coherent response.

“Yes, and I agree. You should have sent me shirtless pictures weeks ago. The tattoos are hot. And who knows? I might have reciprocated by sending a few topless pictures of my own.” I smile, knowing that I just took back control of this situation—Caleb’s groan confirms it.

He lets out a sigh and scrubs his hands back and forth over his face. “Okay, beer,” he reminds himself. Taking another step away, he gives me a wicked smirk. “Just so you know, I’m not responsible if you melt into a puddle,” he says oddly, causing me to tilt my head in confusion.

“Huh?”

Without another word, he turns and walks away, revealing the pièce de résistance. His back is covered completely from the base of his neck to the just above his waistband with the body of a blackbird. It’s created from the same patterns and shapes his sleeves are done in. It’s so beautiful that it’s staggering. The head of the bird is turned so you can only see one menacing emerald-green eye—the only bit of color on Caleb’s entire body. Its body is placed so that Caleb’s arms appear to be the wings of the massive bird. If he spread them to the side, I have no doubt it could take flight.

“Fuck,” I hiss as he walks away laughing.

He knew I liked the tats, and he knew exactly what that work of art would do to me. He wasn’t completely wrong. I didn’t melt, but there was definitely a puddle.

My fingers begin to twitch for my camera. I could take pictures of his back for hours—well, right after I lick every inch of it.

Caleb comes back into the room carrying two beers and a bottle of water. “Thought you might be thirsty.”

“So tell me about your tattoos,” I ask, taking the water from his hand. I’ve had a lot to drink tonight. I’m not drunk anymore, but I’m definitely dehydrated.

“Not tonight.” His sparkling blue eyes flash dark as he turns away and places the drinks on coasters on the table.

I don’t push him. It’s probably for the best. I’m sure they are about Manda, and the less we talk about her, the less we will have to talk about Sarah.

When Caleb showed up at the bar tonight, I couldn’t contain my excitement. I jumped up from the table and hugged him. I pretended it was just to thank him for my orange dinner, but it was mostly because I’ve missed him. It’d only been five days since we’d talked last, but I have become quite addicted to our nightly conversation. This has been a very transitional time for me, and it was nice to have someone to lean on. I just wish we had spent those nights talking about things that actually mattered instead of laughing and telling old stories the whole time. Maybe then we wouldn’t be in this mess. I have no idea what’s going to happen to us tomorrow, but I fully intend to make the most out of tonight.

I walk over to Caleb, pull the beer he has tipped to his lips away, and place it on table behind us.

“Hey, you.” I place a kiss to his collarbone and run my hands over his hard chest and shoulders, tracing up his neck and into his thick hair.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He licks his lips while staring at mine.

“I missed you this week.”

“Jesus, Emmy. I missed you, too,” he says dropping his forehead to mine.

“You’re not wearing a shirt,” I teasingly remind him, and it causes a small smile to cross his lips.

“Nope.”

“But I am.” I place a soft kiss to his lips.

“We really should remedy this situation,” he says, gently brushing a finger over my stomach and under the edge of my shirt.

“I agree.” I cross my arms between us and lift the shirt over my head, discarding it on the couch beside us.