He unfolds the blanket, and we move underneath it, our necks craned up as our eyes linger on the beauty above us.
If only he knew the beauty beside me. If only he knew that I’d prefer to gaze at him instead.
Our hands touch, and Caleb curls around me.
“You like it out here?” Caleb asks, our hands exploring, a desperate need to touch and consume.
“Yeah. It’s been a while since I’ve disconnected.”
“You should do it more. Maybe disconnect that phone of yours, too.”
I lean forward and inhale him. “Yeah, I should.”
He arches into my touch, eager, willing. “Ever feel like just running away?”
I turn to face him, pressing my face into his wild, unruly hair.
He has no idea how far I’d run. How fast.
With him.
“All the time.”
“Tomorrow, we’re going out on the ATVs. Just wanted to warn you,” Caleb tells me as we curl up in bed. I didn’t even bother resisting the pull, just climbed in next to him.
“I’ll stay back and help your aunt cook dinner,” I say, threading my fingers through his hair, and he almost purrs against me.
He rolls over until he’s on top of me, his face pressing into my neck.
“Loser,” he mutters, his lips sliding against my skin. “You’re coming with me, or we’ll drag you out there.”
“Please don’t,” I say.
He lifts his head, and our eyes meet. Those blue eyes twinkle. “You begging, baby?”
The term of endearment slips out of his mouth, and I feel my cheeks heating. I’ve never blushed so much in my life.
But I like the way that word sounds coming from him.
“I never beg,” I reply, tugging on his hair roughly.
“I bet,” he mutters and then arches his hips into mine, his cock dragging against mine. It’s delicious in the worst possible way.
“I have no problem begging,” he adds, licking his full lips. “I’m a complete slut, apparently.”
As he ruts against me, I try to lie to myself. I tell myself he’s not even what I want. Not at all. I like petite men, pretty men. Caleb is neither. Not at all.
No, it’s worse. He’s sex. All-consuming sex.
What am I even doing? I should not be entertaining this. There is too much waiting for me once this school year is up. My father has continually reminded me of that. I can’t start something with a guy who is totally wrong for me.
He doesn’t recycle. He packs his clothes in plastic bags.
His clothes are stained and wrinkled.
He has a nipple piercing.
There’s a good chance he’d want me to bend over for him, and I never do that.
