Cal said something funny to his aunt, and his chest rumbled against my back. I turned my head to look at him. He was laughing, his eyes crinkled, looking down at me with an expression so open, so full of affection, that it knocked the wind out of me.
Oh.
It hit me like a physical blow. A wall of realization slamming into me.
I love him.
It wasn’t a question like it was in Scotland. It wasn’t a maybe. It was a terrifying, euphoric certainty. I was in love with Callum Kincaid.
Panic flared in my chest, an anxious spiral threatening to choke me. I can’t do this. I’m going to ruin this. He’s the sun and I’m just… me.But I hid it. I forced a smile, leaned back into his hold, and let his arms be the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
Thesnow had started up again by the time we left.
The car ride home was quiet, intimate.
“Murran called,” I said, breaking the silence, my voice sounding loud in the dark car.
Cal glanced over. “Yeah?”
I told him everything. The phone call. The push. TheFront Linescreative team thinking I was ready. The paralyzing nerves.
“Si…” Cal breathed, reaching over to squeeze my neck. “That is huge. You deserve this.”
“I don’t know if I can handle the pressure,” I admitted, staring at the wiper blades fighting the snow.
Cal’s hand tightened on my neck, possessive and reassuring. “You won’t be doing it alone. I’ll be here every step of the way, Si. I promise.”
He meant it. I could feel it.
When we got to Cal’s apartment, the world outside disappeared. It was just us.
We moved slowly, shedding the day as we walked through the door. Cal took my hand and led me to the shower. We stood under the spray for what felt like forever, just touching. Existing. He washed my back, his hands soapy and reverent; I washed his chest, tracing the ink on his skin. It was silent, but the air was thick with a heat that had nothing to do with the water.
When we finally stumbled into the bedroom, Cal didn’t let me go.
“Bed,” he growled against my lips.
He pushed me down onto the mattress, following me instantly. But he didn’t just climb on top. He reached for his leather belt he’d discarded on the floor.
“Hands,” he ordered, his voice rough, eyes dark with intent.
My breath hitched, but I lifted my arms above my head. Cal bound my wrists to the headboard, the leather biting into my skin just enough to ground me. He stepped back for a second, looking at me, spread out, vulnerable, completely at his mercy.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
He crawled up the bed, moving over me, kissing my chest, my stomach. Then he reached for the lube on the nightstand. He coated his fingers, his eyes never leaving mine as he moved between my legs.
He pressed one finger inside, then two, stretching me slowly. I gasped, my hips bucking off the mattress, chasing the sensation. He knew exactly where to touch, exactly how to curl his fingers to hit that sweet spot that made my vision blur.
“You’re so loose for me,” Cal murmured, adding a third finger, working my hole open. “So fucking greedy.”
I was panting, sweat slicking my skin. I looked down at him, at the hungry set of his jaw, and I made a decision. A dangerous one.
“Cal,” I gasped. “Don’t use a condom.”
Cal froze. His fingers stopped moving inside me. He looked up, his eyes blown wide, searching my face.
“Si…” he warned, his voice straining.
