“Why are you here, Dr. Pierce?” I winced at her return to using my professor name. “You’ve shown repeatedly that you don’t want me. So, what is this?”
A laugh rumbled up my throat. “God, Oaklyn. Idowant you.”
Her eyebrows raised expectantly, waiting for an explanation.
My heart hammered in my chest as I thought of my options. Cut it off here and leave. Let it go. Try and stutter through a half-truth and hope it satisfied her need to understand.
My eyes traced the skin of her shoulder, remembering how it felt beneath my fingertips. My mind flashed with memories of how she tasted. The sight of Reed and Karen before me, his hand on her stomach hit me. The way I imagined Oaklyn when I tried to see my future.
She filled me with a hope that maybe there was more past my fear. She made me believe, and I needed to try. I could do this. I could do this with her.
Setting my container aside, I scooted toward her and grabbed her container, moving it to the table too.
She tracked my movements with wide eyes and swallowed.
Brushing her hair behind her ear, I pressed my forehead to hers, taking in her fine features, full lips, the dips and shadows under her sweater. Her tongue slicked out, preparing for my kiss.
“Callum.”
Watching her lips form my name pushed me the final inch across the precipice.
chaptertwenty-one
Callum
Her lips were justas soft as the other night. Maybe even softer, more plush, more perfect. Something about her always seemed better each time I had her.
Oaklyn hesitated only a moment before she moaned, and her lips moved against mine. Her tongue flicked against the seam of my lips, and I obediently opened, needing to taste her. I held my eyes open and focused on her face when her hands moved to my neck and then into my hair. I stared at the way her lashes cast shadows on her soft cheeks. I moved my hands to her waist to remind myself of the petite female in my arms and to not let the memory of another’s hands pull me back.
I watched her features shift with each move of her mouth against mine. The sweet taste of syrup mixed with her own unique taste intoxicated me. I became so lost in her kiss that I hadn’t even realized when my eyes slid closed and every feeling amplified. Except for the hint of panic that lingered on the edge since she buried her hands in my hair. That feeling stayed small—motivating me to lean into the others. I felt the sting of her teeth nipping at my lips. I felt the rush of air against my cheek when she breathed without removing her mouth from mine. I felt the fine bones of her ribcage expand and contract beneath my fingers.
She consumed me, and before I knew it, my fingers were bunching up her sweater to pull it over her head. My hands molded to her soft breasts as my thumbs stroked back and forth across her nipples. I tugged the flimsy lace out of the way and trailed my lips down her neck to latch and suck at the tight bud. I’d been so enthralled with the feel of her in my mouth, there was no room for anything but excitement.
The absence of panic left an opening I became desperate to fill with her. I needed to feel more. More of her against me.
I pulled back enough to tug my shirt overhead and then went back to kissing her.1Her bare chest pressed to mine, sending shockwaves of lust rocketing through me. Had I ever been skin to skin with a woman? Had I ever been so lost in the now, that the past couldn’t touch me?
At least I thought it couldn’t. I thought I’d been so buried in Oaklyn, nothing could break through.2
Then her hands were on my shoulders pushing me back on the small couch, and I fell. Fell back into my nightmare. Her hands pressed hard against my shoulders, andheclimbed on top of me. Lost from reality, my legs were being pressed back to my chest and—
“No,” I shouted, gripping her biceps and shoving back.
My eyes popped open when I heard my voice in the quiet room, bouncing around the tiny space, mocking me. Oaklyn stared with wide eyes, her mouth open in shock.
“I’m sorry,” I managed to whisper between gasping breaths. My chest squeezed too tight to take a deep enough breath and panic trickled along my skin. Not just from the flashback, but also wondering how I was going to explain myself out of this situation.
“Are you kidding me right now?” Her brows dipped and she jerked out of my hold. She yanked her sweater up and covered her breasts, staring at me, trying to figure me out. “Are you serious?” she asked slower, angrier.
“Fuck,” I swore, standing from the couch. I paced to the wall a few feet away and dug my hands in my hair before turning and pacing back. My fingers tightened to a fist, hoping the sting of pain would center me, help me get some control that spiraled out of my grasp. “Fuck,” I said again.
“You need to leave.”
Her low but harsh command stopped my pacing. I turned and my heart sank to my stomach. The hurt in her eyes was so strong, not even the thin veil of anger could mask it.
“Oaklyn, please.” I stepped toward her with my hands out.
“No.” She looked down and shook her head. “No. You can either explain what the fuck is going on, or you can leave.”
