“First man,” I said. Old memories rose, and I gave a humorless laugh. “If you want to know the true meaning of awkward, ask me about the few times I embarrassed myself with a woman.”
Caleb opened his mouth, and I put up a hand.
“That was rhetorical. There’s not enough alcohol in the world to get those stories out of me.”
He grinned.
“Philippe was patient with me,” I said. “He was never my mate, but I thought it would come with time. I had a lot to learn, and he made sure I learned all of it.” Memories stirred, a phantom hand caressing my nape before pressing my head toward the floor. “He was very thorough.”
Caleb didn’t move, but sudden intensity rolled off him. “Thorough how?”
“Every way you can imagine.” I let a beat pass. “And a few you probably can’t.”
Heat flickered in his eyes. He glanced at my mouth. “And after Philippe?”
“There were others. Not many. I’m not built for casual, and long-term is almost impossible when you never age.” I paused, letting the silence stretch. “You’re the first in…a while.”
“How long?”
“Long enough that I intend to make up for lost time.” I held his stare. “Are you vers?”
He relaxed against the car door, the picture of ease. “You’re really adorable, you know that?”
No.Heat climbed my nape. “What do you mean?”
A devilish light danced in his eyes. “You’re so formal about shi— Stuff.”
“You don’t think it’s important to be on the same page in bed?”
“Sure,” he said, clearly enjoying himself. He maintained his nonchalant sprawl as he added, “To answer your question, Mr. van der Meer, I don’t consider myself vers. I am, in fact, a dedicated butt slut.”
I choked on nothing, coming off my seat as I coughed into my fist.
Caleb leaned toward me. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I managed, waving him off. Christ, he reallywasgoing to be the death of me. But as my coughing subsided, and I looked at him lounging against the door like a big golden cat enjoying a sunbeam, a new emotion swelled in my chest.
Admiration.
He watched me recover with those bright, amused eyes, but his voice went husky as he asked, “What are you looking at, Jesse?”
“You,” I said softly. “I admire you.”
The amusement flickered. His smile faded by degrees, replaced by something uncertain. “Why?”
“Your confidence. Your self-awareness. The way you know exactly who you are and refuse to apologize for it.”
Color crept into his cheeks. Abruptly, he looked out the windshield. “I’m not sure I’m any of those things.”
Something twisted in my chest. This was the contradiction at the center of Caleb Lawson: bold and brash until someone gave him a genuine compliment. Then he shut down, refusing to accept how incredible he was. Sex was manageable because it was physical. But feelings? He didn’t know what to do with those.
I was going to fix that. I was going to give him so many compliments that he got used to them. Got sick of them. Got to the point where he rolled his eyes and told me to shut up.
“Look at me,” I said.
He obeyed at once, and I had to fight a moan.
Oh yeah, Caleb and I were on the same page. If we had to start with the physical, so be it.
