Page 85 of Goode Tidings

After some amount of time that could be five minutes or an hour, I'm not sure because I'm focused on remaining calm, Eden says, "I need to make sure you're even."

My eyes open, and I watch her set her shears down on the counter. She steps between my legs once more. Her focus stays on my hair as she runs her hands through it, lifting lightly, like she's measuring visually. "All good," she says, looking down at me. Positioned as we are right now, she's only a little taller than me, enough that her breasts are close to my face. "Do you want to see the end result?" she asks, moving to step aside without my answer.

My hands grip her hips, keeping her in place. "I didn't say yes."

"You didn't say no." Breathy again. I love it.

My fingers squeeze lightly. "This is me saying not yet."

"Ok," she whispers.

My hands fall, running down the curve of her hips, trailing lower over the outside of her thighs. I go slow. Excruciatingly so. My fingertips are memorizing her. On my path back up I gather what little fabric I can in my hands and give it a tug. "These jeans have been driving me mad."

Eden sways with the movement of my wrenching, and she steadies herself on my shoulders. The towel is still there, and I wish she would push it off. And then she does, as if she's read my mind. Her palms run over my skin, to my upper back.

"These are my house jeans," she says quietly. "They're comfy. Nothing special."

"False." I lean forward, press my lips to the hollow at the base of her throat. "Everything is special if it's on you."

"Sure, sure," she says, the words falling down over my freshly shorn hair.

I don't like the way she brushes off my compliment. And I won't let it slide. Skimming my hand around the back of her neck, I set aside every lustful thought and tell her, "I will never say what I think you want to hear, especially not for my own purposes. So when I tell you these jeans turn me into a caveman, I mean it. And you know what? I'm jealous of them. They get to be on your body, over and over."

A small smile toys with the corner of her mouth. "You're jealous of jeans?"

I nod up at her. "So fucking jealous."

"Then do something about it."

With a hand on the back of her neck and the other on her hip, I guide her closer. She hooks one leg over my thigh, then the other, and I close the distance between my legs, giving her a stable place to land. She sinks down onto my lap. Wiggles.

With my thumb brushing over her hairline at her neck, I lean down, pausing when we're nose to nose.

"What's wrong?" Eden asks.

"I just wanted a moment to take you in."

Eden waits a long beat, then with a touch of impatience says, "Kiss me, Callum."

CHAPTER 40

Eden

Callum does exactly as I've instructed. A reverent press of his mouth to mine. A tentative exploration, a curl of his fingers in my hair at the back of my head.

He draws from me a shaky gasp as he gently sucks at my bottom lip, dragging his teeth across the same sensitive flesh he once dragged his thumb.

He tips my head up, and I comply, offering my mouth. His tongue swipes inside, a tangle with mine. His hands find my arms, his touch a light and teasing tickle up their length.

"Mmm," I moan into his mouth. Everything he is doing is so right, so good, so perfect.

He pulls back, but only to press his nose against my neck. "Eden," he groans against my skin. He says it like a plea, and I understand perfectly. I want him closer, want to satisfy the heavy stone of desire sitting where we're pressed together.

I like to think of myself as a patient person, but Callum makes me overeager. His hands roam my back, one falling down to cup my ass. My blood sings. My body hums. His mouth is on my neck, my jaw, nipping at my earlobe. My nails lightly scratch at his bare back as he drives me crazy with seemingly so little.

"More," I demand, and he brings his mouth back to mine, kissing me frantically. He's doing all the work to keep us upright on this stool, and then my feet find the foot rungs, pressing into them for leverage.

Callum grips my hips, rocking me against him. We fit together, my softness against his harsh edges. I'm filled with heat and want, dying for release.