I kick it shut behind us.
Then everything breaks. I kiss him the second the lock slides into place.
Not careful. Not slow.
Starved.
Caleb makes a noise into my mouth, half relief and half want—and fists his hands in my hoodie, dragging me closer.
“Baby,” I murmur, lips brushing his cheek, his jaw, and his mouth again. “Come here?—”
He’s already climbing me.
Literally climbing me.
I grab him under the thighs on instinct, hauling him up against my waist. His legs wrap around me tight, his breath stuttering as I press him back against the door.
“You okay?” I whisper against the corner of his mouth.
He shakes his head. “No. Yes. Fuck, I don’t—I just—Miggy, please.”
Oh.
Right.
He’s not okay.
I kiss him again, softer for half a second.
“I’ve got you.”
Then I kiss him harder.
He gasps, fingers threading in my hair, tugging, guiding, needing. And I give him everything he’s asking for. I slot our mouths together, licking into him, swallowing every shaky breath he exhales. His hips grind down against mine, lazy and instinctive, knocking the breath clean out of me.
“Caleb,” I groan, voice rough. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“Good,” he whispers. “Take me with you.”
I squeeze his ass in both hands and lift, his gasp breaking against my mouth.
He’s trembling.
I carry him to the bed and drop him onto the mattress, not hard, but with enough force that he bounces, wide-eyed, pupils blown.
He looks wrecked and needy.
“Shirt off,” I say.
Caleb scrambles to get it over his head. I don’t wait, I’m already pulling my hoodie off, yanking my T-shirt with it, and tossing both aside. He sits there, chest heaving, eyes running over me.
“You’re staring,” I murmur, crawling onto the bed. “Need me to take a picture for you?”
“You’re so fucking hot,” he fires back, voice soft but certain. “And more like a video of you.”
I climb over him, straddling his hips, leaning down until our noses brush. “You’re mine.”
His breath catches. “Yeah. I am.”
