But Renny didn’t seem interested in denying him. She kissed him right back, more cruel punishment because he couldn’t help but imagine those plush, pliant lips wrapped around a certain part of him. A hard part...
His erection pressed against his jeans, and he felt the seam of her shorts rubbing as she wiggled atop him.
A softly sighed sound was his ticket to deepen the kiss, the slick slide of his tongue along hers sending a shiver through her frame.
Her sensual responsive nature to his touch was another form of torturous tease. Her fingers dug into his back and her arms wound around him, folding him in her embrace. His own hands slid down and cupped her rounded buttocks. A perfect handful that he massaged.
The snap of her head breaking their kiss made him growl. “Get back here.”
“We should stop,” she panted.
“That’s just being cruel.” Since she wouldn’t give him her lips, he dove in for a nibble at her throat.
Her fingers threaded his hair, tight, almost painful. He couldn’t tell if she wanted him to stop his sensual nips or needed more…
More, of course.
He sucked at her skin, and she moaned, “You’re playing dirty.”
“And loving it. So are you.” He could tell. She couldn’t hide her arousal from him.
“But someone might see.”
And those who might spy were family, and that meant he couldn’t kill them.
Yet stopping…I don’t want to stop touching her.
He rumbled against her skin.
“Caleb!” Said in a way that let him know he had to rein back his passion.
Pulling back from her, he let out a breath, a long, heavy sound. “When did I get old and worried about doing the right fucking thing?”
She smiled. “You matured. And just so you know”—she leaned close to whisper—“it’s really, really sexy.” She gave him one last lingering and sweet kiss that left him sitting there with eyes closed long after she fled. How emasculating was it to want to relive that moment in perpetuity?
For the first time in what seemed like forever, he felt complete. He’d found what was missing in his life, the last piece—no, not a piece, a person who could make him whole.
Make me happy.
Sappy shit. I’d be happier if I had a bedroom with a lock.
But that would come. He couldn’t let his impatience rush things. He’d waited years to see Renny again. He could wait a few days longer. Besides, he knew one important thing now.
She still wants me.
Hesitation arising from the past might still come between them, but she was thawing, perhaps even forgiving him. Hope was a hot furnace to a body he thought ran cold-blooded.
“Why is Daddy sleeping while sitting up?”
Not sleeping but dreaming. With his eyes wide open about a future.
The rest of that day, the best Caleb could manage was a stolen kiss here and there that left Renny’s cheeks flushed and her eyes bright.
The occasional touch kept his blood boiling while, at the same time, the inability to take things further frustrated him.
He couldn’t even take them back to her place, not given he’d promised to meet Wes tonight. He didn’t want her being alone, not until they knew this strange monster business was taken care of.
Keep them safe.
The mantra repeated itself over and over. He blamed it for the tremors that hit when he was away from Renny.
Separation? Bad.
He couldn’t explain why, but he felt whole when with Renny. In control. Being with her gave him a purpose that had no room for panic.
He did what had to be done. He protected. He provided. He kissed…
Okay, that was less for her than it was for him.
The feel of her lips against his, her hands grasping at his nape, her skin feverish for his touch, the signs she wanted him were there. They bolstered him. Made him strong again.
Strong enough to tolerate the hunter in him wanting to rise for a peek.
I don’t know if I want to let you out.
He spoke to his other side, knowing the croc already was aware of his trepidation. Whenever his reptile came out to play, blood ran.
Because that is the nature of the beast.
Something he heard over and over, but it didn’t change how he felt. He could handle violence, but his croc self took it to a scary level, dragging him along for the ride, willing or not.
Practice makes perfect.
Did that really apply when dealing with another personality? Every time he let the croc out, he feared losing another part of himself. Of returning less human than before.
Yet, containing the beast didn’t work. It still lurked in his head, tossing its own thoughts and emotions into everything Caleb did.
Remember what happened the last few times you tried to cage the beast?
Practice makes perfect. The expression repeated itself.
Stop whining about your split personality problem and get shifting. Full dusk had fallen, and Wes was expecting him, not as a man, but as a crocodile.
Fuck fear. Fear never helped a situation. I will make fear my bitch. Time to throw on the scales and do something that would make people, like his family, safe.