Fear. Fear of a past I never shook off, fear of a future that might never happen.
Memories, old and ugly, waned as new ones flooded my bloodstream. Cal smiling, his smirks, that fucking wink … The blue of his eyes and the touch of his lips … His voice when he called me Princess … Every silent glance and every greedy moan he made for me …
“Princess,” I mouthed more than whispered. My poor, sweet Cal. In pain.Aloneand in pain.
For months, Cal had been telling me in our unique way everything I was too afraid of saying right back, but no longer. If he could be brave enough to admit something like this in the face of his enemy, then I could stand up to those old torments for a need so deep, I couldn’t find the bottom. A need for him.
“Yeah, so.” He sniffed and turned to face me with watery eyes. “My parents breathing down my neck, the school on my ass about the trouble we caused, then Sasha’s drama … I’m done. Just so done with their shit. Then you start fuckin’ with me.”
I snickered as a familiar pang struck in my chest. “Mefuckingyou? Okay.”
Cal huffed. “You know what I meant. Just leave me alone so I can work this out on my own.”
“Nope.”I can’t leave you alone anymore.I’m not sure I ever could.
“Jack.”
“I can help.”
“No, you can’t.”
I took another step and lowered my voice. “I think I can.” Another step put me at the end of his bed. “Let me help you relax.”
Cal rubbed the back of his neck. “Impossible,” he mumbled, eyes boring into mine and making no move to regain distance between us.
“I’ll prove you wrong. You know I’m all about giving you more reasons to hate me.”
He slowly lowered his arm and swallowed hard enough shadows played over his throat, practically begging for my tongue. He let out a winded chuckle. “You would, wouldn’t you.”
I stopped in front of him, close enough a deep breath from either of us and we’d be touching. He didn’t stop me when I rubbed across his delts, moving to his shoulder blades, then down his back. He kept his arms loose at his sides, watching me, probably expecting some kind of trap.
But I was done playing around.
“God, you’re so tight.”
Cal smirked. We were nearly the same height, so his lips curved only inches from mine. “Yeah? Thought you said you could help. What’re you gonna do about it?”
I didn’t answer, just moved my hands to his wrists, trailed my fingers all the way up his arms, and then into his silky hair. I’d wanted to touch him like this since the first time I saw him on the football field. I’d wanted to trace every line and arc. I’d wanted to taste every slope and dimple.
Cal stood so still, he might not’ve breathed as I scraped my nails over his scalp, then down to his ears, circling the shells. A shuddered breath escaped, proving he was alive, when I lightly trailed my fingertips over his temples, his brows, and down his nose.
What I’d intended to help was now a raging need in my sweatpants. An inch closer and he’d know it too. I rubbed hard along Cal’s jaw with my thumbs, his throat, softly over his Adam’s apple when it bobbed, and then even lighter across the hollow.
“Stop teasing me,” he whispered.
I clawed down his meaty pecs. “You know how to stop me.”
He didn’t, so I didn’t.
We were in T-shirts and a little sweaty from the long day. His nipples were hard. I pinched them, and he slapped my hand. It only made me chuckle and drag my nails to his sides. Cal hissed and jerked away from me.
“Ticklish?”
He nodded once, slowly, then parted his lips.
Fuck this.
I surged forward and wrapped a hand around his nape, grabbing his shirt with my other just as my mouth crashed against his. We were good like this, fast and hard. He gripped my hips in his big hands, keeping me in place, as he opened for my demand.
