Instead of responding with thank you like a normal person, I let out a sniffle. I can’t even find a way to respond because my throat feels like it’s blocked up. I bury my face in the crook of his shoulder instead, breathing in his cologne and relishing in the sturdy way he’s holding me. It doesn’t replace what the fire destroyed, but it gives me the ability to get started again.
“Thank you,” I finally whisper. I kiss him again, moving my hands to his face, framing his jaw. He looks right at me with those eyes I’ve come to love before kissing me back, settling me down on the bed.
I spread my legs so he can dip his body between them, his hands exploring underneath the jersey. He drags his lips down from my face to my neck and lower, then takes the jersey off entirely, leaving me with messy hair. He doesn’t seem to mind, though; he’s still looking at me in a way that triggers heat in my belly and lower. It’s like I’m a prize he just won. Like I’m something precious.
“God, Bex,” he says. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
He splays his hand on my soft belly, pulling me into another kiss. I stroke my hand through his hair as I kiss him back. “You are too,” I say with total honesty.
And because he’s confident in his masculinity, he doesn’t make a face. He just breaks away to look at me, a tender expression on his face.
“This lingerie is so pretty,” he says as he traces over the lace on one of the blush pink bra cups. My breath hitches at the promise of contact where I want it. “Did you get this just for me?”
I nod, digging my teeth into my lower lip. He pulls off his sweater and jeans and makes short work of my bra, nuzzling at my breasts, rolling one nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and sucking on the other until I’m arching my back. I can feel myself getting wet, my clit tingling and begging for attention. I try to wriggle my hand between us, but he catches it.
“Keep your hands over your head, pretty girl,” he says.
I whimper, toes curling, as I fist my hands in the sheets. He rewards me by sliding my panties down my legs. Still, he doesn’t pay me any attention there yet, continuing to just focus on my tits until I’m shamelessly begging him for more contact. When he finally drags his hand down, I spread my legs wider, eliciting a soft laugh from him. He finds my clit, stroking around it in a tantalizing circle, before dragging his fingers down and pressing two into me at once. I’m so wet that his fingers go in easily. He groans as I clench my pussy. He scissors his fingers as he continues to play with my clit, and with every movement, every breath, I come closer to reaching my peak. He lowers his head to my tits again, mouthing at them, and the added contact makes me cry out. “James—I’m gonna—”
“Come, princess,” he tells me roughly as he presses a third finger into me. “Come on my fingers and I’ll give you my dick.”
I sob as I do, pressing myself against him as tightly as I can, even though the sensitivity that comes with climaxing makes me want to curl up and catch my breath. He continues to finger me for a moment before withdrawing his fingers; I shudder, hating the feeling of emptiness.
He reaches for his wallet, taking out a condom and rolling it on quickly. “Tell me what you want, Bex.”
I blink wetly at him, trying to form words and utterly failing. He’s gorgeous, handsome as sin as he wraps his fist around his cock and pumps. Fuck, his muscles are incredible. I want to lick the grooves between each one of his perfect abs. I struggle to sit up so I can kiss him. He obliges me, gasping as I bite his lip. When I pull away, he has a dark look in his eyes, like he’s struggling not to throw me down and fuck into me.
Fuck, I want it. I want him to fill me up so completely I can’t help but come again, this time all over his cock.
“Bex,” he says, his voice still so low and rough it makes me shiver.
“I want you,” I say. “I want…”
“Keep going.”
“I want you to fuck me,” I say in a rush.
“Good girl,” he praises. He drags his thumb over my lips, dipping into my mouth in a tender gesture before pulling back. Before I can ask again, he flips me over, so I’m on my belly, and he spreads my legs like this, digging his hands into my ass as he pulls me up onto my knees and elbows. He presses the head of his cock against me, rubbing until I moan and buck my hips. He presses into me all at once, filling me so completely I can’t feel anything but him.
This position has my pussy clenching around him, my breasts swaying as he thrusts experimentally. He presses his mouth to the back of my neck, breathing against my hair as he fucks into me. He tangles one of his hands in mine, pressing it flat against the bed.
“I’m close already,” he whispers against my skin. “I can’t help myself when it comes to you.”
“Come,” I whisper back. “Fill me up.”
He snaps his hips forward, coming inside me with a moan. I squeeze around him, helping him through it, loving the way his breath hitches and he tightens his grip on my hand. He rolls us onto our sides and rubs my clit until I come again with a weak cry.
We both catch our breath, panting, for a long moment. There’s a strange feeling inside my chest, a balloon of pressure that I can’t make go away. Maybe it’s because of how he looks at me as he comes back from discarding the condom with a washcloth in hand to clean me up. Or maybe it’s how he kisses me, his hand cradling my jaw. Or how he pulls his sweater over my head the moment I begin to shiver. The food is here, and I watch as he sets up everything, pouring us each more champagne.
I’m feeling something I don’t want to name, even in my mind, because it scares me too badly. Especially after what Darryl told me.
James Callahan has infiltrated my heart.
27
JAMES
When I wake up, Bex is staring down at me.
She’s holding her new camera, and she has a cute look of concentration on her face, teeth digging into her lower lip. She’s still wearing my sweater and her hair is messy, and my heart clenches at the sight.
Last night, something shifted. It’s been shifting ever since the diner, drawing me closer to her with inexorable sureness. I looked down at her, saw her flushed cheeks and the desire in her gorgeous eyes, and I almost said something I promised my father I wouldn’t tell a girl again for a long time.
And now I have the urge to say it again, so instead I grin, winding my hand around her calf. “Hope you got my good side.”
She tucks her hair behind her ear. “The natural light is so good right now.”
I kiss her knee. “And?”
“And you’re a handsome subject,” she says. “But James, this camera!”
I sit up on one elbow. “It’s good?”
“It’s amazing.” She looks down at it with a cute little smile. “Thank you. I still can’t believe you did this for me.”
“Bex?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m no photography judge, but I know you’re talented. You should be pursuing this, not resigning yourself to the diner.”
I know the moment the words leave my mouth that I pushed when I shouldn’t have. She sets down the camera, a faraway look in her eyes. I brace myself for her to rebuke me—because even though my girl is starting to accept my help, the diner is a sore subject for her—but instead, she asks something that floors me.
“Who’s Sara Wittman?”
I sit up, heart jackhammering in my chest. “What did you say?”
“Sara Wittman,” she says. “Was she your girlfriend?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Babe, how did you…”
She presses her lips together. “Tell me what happened with her. Tell me the real reason why you came to McKee.”
I know that she’s asking me something reasonable—she’s my girlfriend, she deserves to know about my past—but the part of me that still wants to protect Sara rebels against it. I haven’t spoken to her since that day in the hospital, but she still echoes in my mind from time to time. I loved her. I thought I was going to marry her one day.
“James,” Bex says, a note of urgency in her voice.
I scrub my hand through my hair. “We met last year,” I say. “She was a freshman, and her father was involved with the team, so I met her at a function at the beginning of the season. I asked her out, and I’d dated other girls before, but this was different.”
I don’t like the way Bex curls in on herself, but she keeps looking at me, so I force myself to keep going.
“Sara is an intense person,” I say. “Pretty soon we were spending all our time together. She didn’t like to be alone, and I sort of became her person, you know? She came to all my practices. We practically lived together; I had an apartment off-campus that she stayed in. And it worked, for a while. Maybe it was stupid, but I assumed we were going to get married, so why wouldn’t I want to spend all my time with her?”
Bex plays with my fingers. “And then?”
I swallow. “And then she didn’t want me hanging out with the guys from the team. Whenever I went to an away game she couldn’t go to, she called me until I picked up. I kept blowing off assignments to be with her, and eventually practices. Whenever I tried to give us some distance, she clung tighter. She said she had to come first.”