Something shattered in her gaze as she turned and pulled my face to hers.
The kiss was slow, but nothing about it was soft. It was teeth and tongue and that desperate edge of need we had been circling for weeks. Her fingers fisted in my shirt, dragging me closer. I pressed her back against the edge of the bed and swallowed the soft sound she made when her knees hit the mattress and gave way.
Her soft skin was burning under my hands. Warm and wild and so damn responsive it made my knees go weak. I kissed down her neck, tasting salt and citrus and the faint trace of her shampoo.
She arched into me as I slipped her shirt off, every inch of her revealed like a secret I had been dying to learn.
“Cal,” she whispered, her hands sliding up beneath my shirt.
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want slow tonight. I want—” Her breath caught. “I want you to show me I’m still yours.”
My restraint broke wide open.
I stripped my shirt over my head and pushed her down onto the mattress, following her like gravity. My hands skimmed up her thighs, her waist, memorizing every curve, every shiver. She was flushed, pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths.
“You are,” I said roughly, kissing the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, then lower. “You always were.”
When her nails dug into my back and her hips lifted to meet me, I knew there was no going slow.
Only going deep.
We moved together like we’d been made for it—likeevery argument, every misstep, every aching moment ofalmosthad been leading here. Her legs wrapped around my waist, anchoring me to the earth. Her hands tangled in my hair, in the sheets, in me.
She whispered my name like a tether. I answered with her name like a vow.
There was nothing rushed about it, but everything was urgent. Everything mattered.
Every gasp.
Every bite.
Every time her hips lifted to meet mine like we couldn’t get close enough.
I watched her fall apart, her eyes locked on mine, her lips parted in a soundless cry. When I followed, I buried my face in her neck and let go.
Let everything go.
When it was over, we didn’t move. Just lay tangled together in the sweat-damp sheets, her breath warm on my shoulder, my heartbeat slowly steadying under her palm.
I kissed her temple, then her cheek, then her jaw. Each brush of my lips was a silent promise that everything would be okay.
Elodie’s satedbreath was still warm against my shoulder when my phone rang.
For a moment I ignored it—eyes closed, body tangled with hers in the quiet aftermath of everything that had been building between us. Her legs were looped loosely with mine beneath the sheets, her fingers still skimming gentle lines along my ribs.
The phone buzzed again and my body tensed.
“Don’t,” she murmured, sleep-soft and unwilling to move.
The second I saw Brody’s name, the haze cleared. “El,” I said, my voice too quiet. “I have to take this.”
She was already sitting up, clutching the blanket to her chest.
I answered on the second ring. “What is it, man?”
Brody didn’t waste time. “There was an accident. Hayes and Wes. It’s bad.”
