He pushes away from me, and I miss his heat so much I wish I had never said anything at all. He resumes his spot against the headboard, running his hands through his hair before adjusting his very obvious boner. I sit up, putting my own back against the wall and picking at a spot on the blanket that could probably use a wash.
“I mean, yes? What else am I supposed to think?”
He doesn’t say anything right away, and I try hard to pretend I’m not dying on the inside over his lack of answer.
“Clover.”
I don’t look up. I can’t. I’m too afraid to.
“Clover,” he says again.
I keep picking at the blanket, blinking away the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks.
“Chloe.”
It’s my undoing. I pull my head up, meeting his stare, and I’m surprised by what I see in it—fury. He’s…mad? At me?
“It’s not you.” He says each word slowly, like he’s begging me to actually hear them. “It’s not you, Chloe.”
A breath rushes out of me, and I had no idea I was even holding it in.
“Then what is it?”
His brows inch inward, then he’s moving before I can even comprehend what’s happening. Suddenly, I’m moving too, right into his lap, my legs on either side of his as he cups my face with his hand. He opens his mouth, then snaps it closed again. I have no idea what’s happening, but I’m too afraid to move as he traces his thumb back and forth like he’s memorizing the freckles that dot the tops of my cheeks. Then finally, he speaks.
“You deserve better than a quick fuck in my room, okay? Especially when I constantly have people going in and out of my apartment. When we have sex for the first time, I want it to be special. Becauseyou’respecial to me, Clover. In a big damn way.”
While Callum hasn’t shied away from telling me how he feels about me, we’ve still never uttered those special three words to each other. This is certainly the closest we’ve gotten. There is no part of me that doesn’t believe I’m in love with him, but I’m far too afraid to say it out loud and make it real.
What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if I’m lightyears ahead of where he’s at? Yes, he says I’m special to him, but that doesn’t automatically equal love. What if this isn’t the start of forever like I thought?
“Hey,” he says softly, tucking his finger under my chin and forcing me to meet his eyes again. “Where’d you go?”
“I’m right here.”
His eyes fall to slits, like he doesn’t believe me, but there are no follow-up questions, and I’m thankful for it. Thinking all those things is one thing, but putting a voice to them gives them power, and that’s the last thing I want to do. So, I tuck all the thoughts away deep inside my brain where I can analyze them and replay them later.
His lips pull up into a sly smile. “You know, Clover, I hadn’t realized you were so eager to get in my pants.”
My eyes widen. “That isnotwhat I said!”
“No?”
He squeezes my hips, his fingers inching under my shirt. While we still haven’t had sex, we have fooled around a little, mostly just Callum putting his hands under my shirt and a hand job in the dark of night. So when he drags his hand up and cups my breast, it doesn’t surprise me, but it does stir something inside me that’s been building over the last several months.
“It might not be what you said, but it’s what you want, isn’t it?” He flicks his thumb over my nipple that’s already hard, and I gasp. He laughs darkly. “That’s what I thought.”
“You’re so mean.” I groan when he shoves my bra down and does it again, this time with the pad of his digit against my bare skin.
“Maybe. But you like it.”
“Shut up,” I grumble, but my words have no venom behind them, especially not when my hips involuntarily move, my body seeking friction of some sort.
Callum notices, just like I notice how hard he is. Feeling brave—or maybe just needy—I swivel my hips, and this time it’s him gasping.
“Fuck.Shit,” he curses, his hand that’s still on my hip tightening. “Do that again.”
I do. Then again and again. His thumb brushes against me with every move, and it feels so damn good I might just burst if something else doesn’t happen soon.
