“I’m too heavy to sit on your lap,” I say, not meeting his eyes and attempting again to stand.
“Hogwash.”
“Funny choice of words, Sheriff.”
Caleb chuckles, rolling his eyes before meeting mine with a new kind of intensity.
“You are beautiful, Ellie. And you are perfect. Just the way you are. We were made for each other, body and soul. I wouldn’t change a thing about you, your looks, or your personality. I’m right here, with you on my lap, and I’m telling you—you’re light as a feather, baby.”
I rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady, strong beat of his heart. His fingers trace idle patterns on my bare back. I feel a tear roll down my face as I fully relax and sink into him.
This. Is safe. This. Is home. This man. Can handle all of me.
We sit there holding one another for several minutes before he takes a deep breath.
“We should probably go home,” he murmurs, his voice thick with contentment.
“In a minute.”
He drivesus back to his place, not mine. The cabin is dark and quiet when we enter, smelling of pine and woodsmoke and him.
“Come here.”
It’s not a command. It’s an invitation. I step into the space he’s made for me between his arms, resting my forehead against his chest.
He kisses me, and I feel the urgency return.
“Let me see you again,” he whispers against my lips. “I can’t get enough of you.”
We undress each other hastily this time.
He pushes me back onto the couch, his palm warm against my thigh as he lifts one leg over his shoulder, exposing me completely. I shiver at the sudden vulnerability, but his touch steadies me.
Two fingers glide into me, slow and deliberate, stretching me just enough to make me gasp. When he withdraws them, bringing them to his lips, my stomach tightens with anticipation. His eyes darken as he tastes me, the groan that rumbles from his chest vibrating through my body.
“Fuck,” he breathes, like he’s just discovered something essential.
Then he’s crouching lower, pressing in, his tongue replacing his fingers with a heat that shoots straight through me. I arch off the couch, my hands fisting in his hair as he devours me, his grip on my hip keeping me anchored under the relentless rhythm. I’m tossing my head back, begging in ragged gasps, my body taut as a bowstring. When I break apart, he drinks me in like salvation itself, his desperate, almost greedy urgency sending aftershocks through me.
Before I can catch my breath, he scoops me up effortlessly—his strength always surprises me, how easily he wields it without ever being rough—and carries me to the bed. The sheets are cool against my flushed skin, but his body is a furnace over me, heavy and grounding. His knee nudges my thighs apart, and I open without hesitation, sighing as he settles between them.
“Look at me.” His voice is rougher now, frayed at the edges.
Our eyes lock, and the moment stretches, unspoken understanding thrumming between us. Then—sharp, sudden—he fills me completely. We both cry out, his name a broken thing on my lips as I adjust to the stretch, how perfectly he fits. Hebows his forehead against mine, his breath trembling, like he’s fighting to stay controlled.
When he moves, it’s deep and slow at first, each deliberate drag pulling a moan from my throat. But his restraint splinters quickly—his thrusts grow urgent, rocking into me with a fervor that borders on desperation. Like he’s trying to fuse us, to claim every untouched place I have left.
“You feel…” He cuts off, voice ragged, burying his face in the curve of my neck with a groan. His hips snap forward, relentless, and my nails dig into his shoulders as I meet him stroke for stroke.
Then his fingers find that slick, aching spot between us, circling in practiced, maddening strokes just as he thrusts deep. My world narrows to heat, to the pulse of his body inside mine, to the way his breath hitches against my skin.
“Caleb…”
He kisses me, swallowing my cry as I unravel, my climax surging through me in long, consuming waves. His rhythm falters, then dissolves, his own release wrenching a hoarse shout from him as he collapses against me, shuddering.
“That was…” I exhale, words failing me.
He lifts his head slightly, brushing a damp curl from my forehead. His eyes are soft, full of something unspoken. “Yeah,” he murmurs, kissing me gently, like a promise. “It was.”