“I don’t think—”
“I’m kissing you now.” Callan leans down slowly, tipping my face up to his,giving me time to flip out and pull back, but I’m trapped, glued to one spot, unable to operate my body, unable to do anything but stand very still as he lowers his mouth to mine. I feel dazed. Breathless. Exhilarated. I feel so many emotions at once, all churning through me, jostling for attention. Everything fades to background noise when he places his lips lightly over mine, though. Callan has grown into a man. He’s taller, broader, more muscular than he was before, and yet he still tastes the same. He still kisses me with the same fierce intensity that used to make my toes curl.
I want to cry.
I’ve been missing this for so very long. As he moves his mouth over mine, his full lips applying the most delicious pressure, I choke back a sob, trying not to fall apart. Callan huffs gently as he wraps his arms around me, holding me to him.
This is so strange. I gave up on wanting this. I thought it would never happen again. It’s surreal that he’s holding me right now, kissing me, making me feel like this, when I thought I’d never even see him again. Callan makes good on his word and slowly begins to strip me of my clothes. My shirt is first to go. Helping him undress me seems like I’m encouraging him, but then again I could hardly try and stop him as the sheer material slips over my head.
Callan makes a deep, guttural groaning sound as he leans back and drinks in my body. No man has ever looked at me like this before. There have been times when I’ve felt like I’m invisible, in fact, especially with Ben. He doesn’t seem to see me at all. Right now, Callan’s eyes are feasting on me like I’m the most exotic delicacy known to man, and he can’t get enough.
“Shit, Coralie. I need you naked. Right fucking now.” He grabs hold of me, his hands working fast as he undoes my jeans and yanks them down my legs, almost lifting me so he can pull the material from my body. I’m in my underwear then, standing still as can be, wondering what the hell he’s going to do next. Is he actually going to rip my bra and my panties from my body, the same way he did my other clothes? The Callan I used to know would have, but he would have been kind of shy about it. This Callan is new to me, a complete mystery. He’s a man. He doesn’t seem intimidated or scared of anything. He’s heady and intoxicating, driving me crazy without even touching me properly. The way he looks down at me is enough. Jesus, the look in his eyes is tantamount to criminal. No woman could possibly resist him like this. He’s pure, raw sex. I’m at a serious disadvantage. I’m still so angry at him, I can feel it boiling away inside me,somewhere in the background, but fuck. It’s barely noticeable over the deafening roar of my need.
Callan hooks his fingers underneath my bra straps, watching me, unblinking, eyes dark and bottomless. He runs his hands back over my shoulders, underneath the straps, over my shoulder blades, until he reaches the catch at the back. I stop breathing. He used to spend hours unsnapping the catch on my bra; he used to think it was hilarious, especially if we were at school. He doesn’t fumble it now. It pops open at his first touch, barely resisting him. My breasts spring free, my bra sliding away as Callan guides it from my body.
“Fuck, Coralie. You’re even more beautiful than I remember.” His voice sounds strained, barely more than a whisper, but I can hear his desire, thick and heavy.
“I’m the same,” I tell him. “I haven’t changed.”
Shaking his head, Callan carefully reaches out to touch my nipples. He squeezes softly, making my breath catch in my throat. “You have. I have, too. We both have. We’re not the same people we were before, bluebird.”
I don’t know if he’s right or if he’s wrong. I don’t know if it’s for the better or for the worse. All I know is that my body still knows his, still recognizes and wants him in a way like no other. He ducks down and takes my nipple into his mouth, stroking his tongue over the tightened flesh, and my head spins.
“Fuck, Callan. I—” I don’t even know what to say. What I want. That’s not entirely true. I want him. I want him so goddamn badly, but I don’t know how to ask him for it. He said he wasn’t going to fuck me. He said he was going to leave his clothes on, and all I want right now is to feel his skin on mine, to feel him sliding into me as he holds me in his arms and tells me that he loves me.
“What, bluebird? Tell me what you want. Tell me.” Callan runs his hands around my body and cups my ass, squeezing. He jerks me toward him, and I can feel his erection pressed up against me, trapped between our bodies. He groans, huffing a deep breath down his nose, and I mirror him, moaning at the back of my throat.