Page 63 of Impossible Love

I shove her skirt far above her waist. I spread her thighs apart and push them back as I fuck her, then watch her pretty face as she comes all over my dick.

Chapter 32

Victoria

I open my eyes to see weak sunlight streaming through the wall of glass overlooking the San Francisco Bay. It takes me a moment to get my bearings. I must have drifted off to sleep.

And why wouldn’t I?

I’m up to my collarbones in perfectly warm, swirling water. The large Japanese hot soak bathtub holds both of us comfortably. I slowly recall that I’m in the most luxurious bathroom in the most luxurious suite in the Fairmont Hotel. Cal’s long and perfectly muscled arms hold me close. One of his large, calloused hands rests protectively on my belly. The other gently cups a breast.

I snuggle my back into him, knowing that he’s solid and safe. He softly kisses the side of my throat. Lifting my hair, he leaves little kisses at the nape of my neck and across my shoulders. He lightly sinks his teeth into the flesh of my upper arm.

“Mmm.” My voice sounds strange to my own ears. I’m relaxed. Happy. Satisfied.

So.

Damn.

Satisfied.

A tray on the marble floor holds an empty champagne bottle and two crystal flutes. Several fluffy white bath towels are scattered on the white marble floor.

I hear faint music coming from the built-in speakers in the living area and remember that we listened to music while we ate our late-night dinner. I’d had a salmon and quinoa salad, and Cal enjoyed another king-sized steak and all the fixings.

We listened to music a second time just a few hours later, when witching-hour snacks were delivered to the suite—fresh fruit, nuts, a cheese plate, and guacamole and chips.

A long and deep sigh escapes my lips. Cal snuggles me tighter and places his cheek against mine. Together, we watch the western horizon come to life, a deep, threatening red.

“Red sky in the morning, sailor’s warning,” I whisper.

“Red sky at night, sailor’s delight,” he says. “Just like you.”

He kisses my cheek and turns my chin so that he can leave a full kiss on my mouth. His kisses are amazing. Sometimes sweet. Often demanding. Like the man himself.

It dawns on me that I don’t want to leave this cocoon of make-believe. I’m not ready to go back to reality, though I know Declan will arrive soon to take us back to Yosemite Ranch. I don’t want to go back, where things will be so much more complicated.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“Probably somewhere between six-ten and six-thirteen.”

“That’s oddly specific.”

“Well, it’s early spring, and San Francisco is about thirty-seven degrees north in latitude, which means sunrise is in that range. That’s the kind of shit they beat into your skull in the Navy.”

“Gotcha.” I stroke the forearm that’s wrapped around my side. I brush my fingertips along the top of the hand that rests on my belly. His roped and muscled arms are covered in a fine dusting of hair as dark as that on his head. The tendons and veins are prominent along his forearm and on top of his hand.

Cal is, by far, the most spectacular male specimen I’ve ever seen. “What time is Declan picking us up this morning?”

“You got a hot date, Miss Backlund?”

“I’m on a hot date as we speak. Has Declan texted you?”

“Weird, but I haven’t had much of a chance to check my phone in the last twelve hours. Not sure why. It’s all a blur.”

“So, you’re blaming me?

“You’re the insatiable one. I still can’t believe how you dragged me into the butler’s pantry and begged me to fuck you up against the silverware drawer.”

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