Page 115 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

No sooner have I brought the car to a stop than my driver’s door is thrown open, and not a second later, I’m being lifted out of my seat.

“I missed you,” Calvin rasps. I swear his lips find mine before my feet hit the floor. It’s…it’s not what I was expecting.

His hands lock around my waist as his tongue sweeps into my mouth, tasting me as if he hasn’t been able to for years.

My palms find his chest, and as our kiss deepens, my fingers twist in the fabric of his T-shirt, holding him in place. Not that he’s showing any signs of wanting to escape.

A deep moan rumbles at the back of his throat, and it tingles through me, settling in my core.

“Fuck.” He groans, finally pulling his lips from mine. But he doesn’t pull back; instead, he rests his forehead against mine and stares down into my eyes.

I blink up at him, unable to catch my breath, let alone figure out what’s happening here.

“Were you…were you waiting for me?”

“Of course I was. I was tracking your flight. I knew you’d landed before you messaged.”

I can’t stop my smile from breaking free.

A laugh tumbles free as I gaze up at him.

“Why are you laughing?” he asks quietly, his brows pinching.

“Garrett knows we’ve been messaging,” I confess, remembering his attempts to bribe me out of information before I left Idaho.

“I think we’ve been doing more than messaging, darlin’.”

The reminder of the other night sends fire shooting through my veins.

“Um…yeah. Well, I didn’t tell him about that. He was very keen to know every single detail, though. Mostly about you.”

“Is that right?” he asks, dropping his head so he can nuzzle my neck.

“Yes,” I gasp as he sucks on the sweet spot of skin beneath my ear. “I—I didn’t tell him anything.”

“So you didn’t mention how hard you came for me the other night?”

Fuck. How did I forget about his filthy mouth?

“Nope. That can be our little secret,” I whisper as he kisses along my jaw, his eyes finding mine again.

“I like having secrets with you,” he mutters before claiming my lips again.

I lose myself for another minute or two before I remember where we are and press against his ridiculously muscular chest.

“We should go upstairs.”

His eyes blaze with desire. “Good idea. Come on.”

He takes my hand, twisting our fingers together and tugging me toward the trunk.

He pops it open and pulls my suitcase out.

“I can take that,” I say, concerned about him hurting himself.

“This is nothing compared to what I lifted earlier. I’ve got this,” he says before leading me toward the elevator.

The second we’re inside and the doors slide closed, the air changes. It’s thick with tension and charged with electricity. And when Calvin turns to look at me, I swear it vanishes altogether, because it’s impossible to breathe.