“Yes,” he says.
I lower myself on top of him. A primal groan escapes his throat, and a gasp of emotion escapes mine as I feel him. This is happening. I’m together with Caleb. We’re having sex, and I’m surprised by how emotional it makes me feel.
“Christ, you feel so good. Like you were made for me,” he says, his hands returning to my hips. I put my hands on his chest, which is burning hot to the touch, and need for him begins to grow within me again.
But it’s also tempered with the fact that I’m growing emotional, too. I didn’t expect to feel this way when we connected, but I do.
I bite my lip, gazing down at him. He looks up at me. All I want is to make him feel good. I want to be the woman to do this for him, to allow him to let go, to drive him crazy and to the edge, but also be the one to snuggle up with him afterward and brush the hair off his forehead, too.
Suddenly all of this is entwined together as I move on top of him, and Caleb thrusts his hips up, his eyes never leaving mine. They’re full of wonder. Newness. Affection. Desire.
All for me.
In this moment, I know I just fell a little bit in love with him.
And all I hope is that he has fallen just a little bit in love with me, too.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Caleb’s lips brush against the top of my left shoulder. “There. I’ve kissed another one. Or ten.”
I smile. It’s early on Wednesday morning, and I’m curled up into him, my back flush with his chest. Caleb’s warm skin is against mine, and it feels so good to be snuggled up like this. His arm is snaked around my stomach, and his lips are determined to find and kiss every freckle on the tops of my shoulders as warm sunlight streams into my room.
I feel worshipped. Adored. Beautiful.
And with every brush of his lips on my freckles, I’m falling in love with him.
“I don’t want to leave this bed.”
“Then don’t do it,” he says, his teeth playfully grazing the side of my neck.
I run my hand over his arm. “We need to get up at some point.”
“Why?” he asks, kissing another part of my shoulder.
I chuckle. “Erm, we have no food here. I don’t even have coffee.”
“Hmm. That is a big problem.”
“Right? I can’t function without it. And you need your latte with soy milk.”
“You remembered,” he says with amazement.
“I remember lots of things about you,” I say, stroking his forearm. “Even when I was determined not to date you, I remembered every little thing.”
I feel him smiling into my skin, and warmth spreads through me because of it.
“I told you I’d win you over,” he says.
I can now picture his lips pulled up into a smug smile, and it makes me grin. “Go on, take your victory lap,” I tease.
He chuckles at that.
“But I do need coffee,” I insist.
“I’ll order some,” he murmurs into my skin. “Damn. You still smellsogood.”
“Do I smell like fried chicken?”