Page 142

All evening, she sat across from me acting composed. Talking to her friends. Drinking water. Barely looking in my direction. And underneath it, this.

“You’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you?” I murmur.

“Don’t sound so smug.”

Her hips move again.

I slide the lace aside and touch her.

The smart reply dies on her lips.

I know enough now to recognize what she likes, but I still watch. Still learn. The pressure that makes her legs part wider. The rhythm that turns her breathing ragged. The exact place that makes her fingers close around my wrist.

She doesn’t stop me.

She holds me there.

“Cal.”

My name from her mouth does something dangerous to me.

I lower my head and kiss her while I work her higher. Her body tightens beneath mine, every controlled part of her giving way at once.

She comes with her mouth against my shoulder, muffling the sound into my skin.

I feel every pulse of it beneath my fingers.

I should give her time to recover.

I manage three seconds.

Then she pulls my face back to hers and kisses me, hungry and impatient, reaching between us to guide me closer.

There it is again.

The problem.

I’ve just watched her come apart, and I still want more.

I want to know every version of her. What she looks like beneath me, above me, laughing, furious, half-asleep. I want the things she offers and the parts she keeps locked away.

I want too much.

Bea reaches toward the bedside drawer.

I catch her hand.

“I’ve got it.”

She raises one eyebrow. “Familiar with the drawer now?”

“Intimately.”

I reach over and pull it open.

Condoms.

Charger.