Page 87 of Goode Tidings

We break apart, and Callum runs a thumb in the space between my eyebrows. "Your brows are furrowed. What are you thinking about?"

My fingers run over his bare shoulders. "I was thinking about how natural this feels with you, and now I'm wondering why. Shouldn't I feel at least a little bashful right now?"

"You never need to feel bashful with me. Never." Callum cups my cheek. "I'd like to find myself in this position with you again and again."

A flush steals over my cheeks. This man speaks with such raw sincerity. It's refreshing and I love it. "Me, too."

Callum's shoulder twitches, and he explains, "A little itchy from the haircut."

"Right. Sorry." I let him go.

Callum flips on the shower, adjusting it to his preferred temperature. Every move he makes is practiced. Familiar. Because this is his home. I pick up the used towels off the ground and collect my haircutting tools.

Hands full, I say, "Meet me in the kitchen for cookies?"

Callum nods. His cheeks are pink and he's glassy-eyed. Like me.

We knew this attraction was brewing. We watched our friendship blossom day by day, week by week. Yet here we are, fresh off a taste of intimacy, and we're both stunned.

CHAPTER 41

Callum

I stroll into the kitchen like a fucking king. Like Superman. Something inside me has tipped and hasn't yet settled back into place. Maybe it never will.

Eden sits cross-legged on the counter, eating a cookie. Pink still stains her cheeks, remnants of her pleasure. Her hair is messy, left unkempt by my fingers. Lips still puffy. All thanks to me.

I put my hands in her hair. I had my mouth on hers. I had her that close. I watched her fall apart in my space. She undid me in return.

I want more of it. More of her like that… Flushed, undone, satiated. More excuses to be close enough that I can see it happen properly when I get under her skin.

Eden wiggles her eyebrows at me. "You're looking awfully cocky for someone who came in his pants." She pops the last bite of her cookie in her mouth and dusts the crumbs from her hands.

I ignore the unfiltered, teasing remark and stroll over to her. "Where do you suggest I come next time?"

She trails a finger over my chest. "I have some ideas."

I incline my chin at the large cup of water beside her. "Is that yours?"

"Ours," she clarifies. "I figured you were probably as thirsty as me. Considering we already tended to our hunger."

"For now," I say, swiping a cookie off the plate. It's soft and gooey. Perfect. "The thing about hunger is that it's perpetual."

"And demanding." She uncrosses her legs, scooting forward so her legs dangle.

I slot myself between them. "Quite."

She lifts my hand that's holding the cookie and takes a bite. "I have a question," she says after she's swallowed.

I knock a crumb from the corner of her mouth. "Shoot."

"Why did you decide you were done caring about reasons not to"—she motions between our chests—"you know?"

"I was done pretending I didn't like you. It didn't suit me."

She wraps a leg around my lower back. "Justin tried to tell me you liked me. A while ago."

"He told me don't fall in love with her. You don't deserve her. Nobody does." I reach around for the foot she has pressed to my back, gripping it and rubbing at her instep with my thumb. "Does he still have feelings for you?"