Page 72 of Legacy

“Yes, Callum, we’re friends.” Her voice was barely above a whisper as she stared down into her wineglass.

I reached forward again and lifted her chin with my finger. When I met that stunning gaze of hers, my heart sped up, my breath catching once again.

“I’m not a good man, Felicity. I’ve made shit decisions. I’ve hurt people. I don’t always think about the consequences. And part of me wants to keep hurting people.” Her mouth opened, and I shook my head. “But I can’t stop thinking about you. I know it’s wrong. I know your brothers are going to kick my ass. But I want you here. In my house. On my couch. I want to watch a fucking movie. I want to feed you. And I want to touch you. I just want you. Call me insane. But I just want you.”

“You want me?”

My lips twitched. “Yes. And I don’t talk about my feelings. I don’t talk about shit like this.” I took a step back and sipped my beer. The hoppy-ness settled on my tongue, and I tried to focus.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here. I never know what I’m doing. But I want you.”

“You say you don’t know what you’re doing, but I don’t know… it always looks like you know what you’re doing.”

“And I’m a damn good liar. I know what I like, Felicity.”

“And what do you like?” She met my gaze, and I couldn’t help but smile. She was so damn strong, so damn fierce, and I knew she sometimes forgot that.

“I like my family. I like to make sure that they’re safe. I like working at the brewery. I like creating things. I still like watching football. And I like to fuck.”

Her eyes widened.

“What, you don’t like me saying I like to fuck?”

“Well, if you’re going to say one thing is out of place of the others⁠—”

“I like to fuck. I don’t do relationships. Not anymore. And I usually don’t fuck townies.”

“And that’s what I am? A townie.”

“No, Felicity. You’re my ruination. But I don’t fucking care right now.”

I set the beer bottle down, moved forward, and crushed my mouth to hers.

She let out a little gasp against my mouth, and I groaned. Without looking, I took the wine glass from her hand, set it down on the opposite counter, and moved in.

“You tell me to stop, I’ll stop.”

“So this is just fucking?” she asked, her eyes wide.

I pressed my forehead to hers, my breath coming in pants. When I slid my hands around her, caging her against the kitchen counter, her throat worked as she swallowed hard.

“I told you. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t know if that fills me with joy and reassurance.”

“I don’t think I’m supposed to reassure you right now. Because I’m not fucking my best friend’s little sister right now.”

“That’s not my only title, you know.”

“I do.” I moved one hand up to trace my finger along her jawline. Her pupils dilated. My girl liked being touched. Liked being praised. “When it comes to you, I don’t think it can just be fucking.”

“And that worries you.”

“What do you want, little flower?”

“For you to kiss me.”

“I can do that. I can always kiss you, Felicity. That’s not a problem. What more do you want?”