Page 112 of Burn

His lips meet my skin, and I’m on fire again, burning to the beat of his heart and his shaky breath over my skin.

When he tries to nudge my legs apart, I push them together to tease him a little.

Caleb raises an eyebrow at me. “Are you telling me no?” he asks in a low, rough whisper.

“You’re the one who said to stop . . . remember . . . after the dance?”

He settles between my legs, and his lips grazing over my bare nipples. “If I ever tell you to stop while doingthatagain, knock me in the fucking head, because there’s something clearly wrong with me.”

Moving his fingers over mine, clasping our hands together, he lies on top of me, pushing me into the mattress.

Nothing compares to the feeling I have right now. Nothing. After he’s sheathed in a condom, he settles between my thighs. The weight of him is exactly what I need as he pushes inside of me.

“Open your eyes,” he commands, low and deep. “I want you to see me fucking you.”

Part of me thinks this has something to do with everything that happened at the bar. Is this him wanting me to see who I belong to? And why does that turn me on?

After a while, his movements become erratic. He lets out grunts and groans, heavy but low, and there’s no question as to what’s happening. I let go with him, my back arching into him.

His hands return and tightly grasp the pillow my head’s resting on. His lips move to my neck, trying to control his breathing, but it comes in irregular gasps.

Chasing his need, he moves with a determination that borders on rough, and I love every minute of it as he comes, the muscles in his chest and stomach clenching as the endorphins take over.

Collapsing on my chest, somewhere between my incoherent breaths, he wraps his arms around my back, kissing me gently.

So far in the weeks I’ve known him, he’s made me feel a lot. Wanted. Protected, Loved. Worshiped at times. Beautiful. Strong. Sexy. Everything a woman should feel in life, he’s provided without even knowing it.

He cuddles me, pulling me close as his lips touch the back of my neck. “Hey, Mila?” His chest’s warm against my back, his face dropping lower, and his parted mouth meets the curve of my neck.

“Yeah?”

“Stay the night with me?” he asks softly.

I nod. “Okay.”

Like he has to do much convincing.

Oxidizer

A hazardous material containing oxygen that can be combined with adjacent fuel to start or feed a fire.

“I’ve seen your dad. He’s pale as a fuckin’ ghost. Do you look like your mom?” Caleb asks when we’re in his truck on the way back to Scarlet’s apartment.

I spent the night with him and the day, now I have to work tomorrow, so I asked him to take me back to Scarlet’s place. I need to think about what’s going to happen at work with my dad and this whole Nixon mess.

“I’m adopted. Born in Hawaii. Mother was Hawaiian. Father was half Puerto Rican and half white.” I twirl a piece of my brown hair around my fingers playfully. “I’m all kinds of experiments and came out with olive skin, amazing hair and blue eyes.”

He grabs my thigh and squeezes. “And great legs.”

“That too.” I laugh. “What about you?”

“Born here.”

“No, your parents.” I know he’s keeping something from me, but I’m not sure he’s ready to tell me about it.

“They’re still around. Dad’s a Battalion chief. Mother’s a saint.”

Okay, so he’s not ready. His stare doesn’t move from the road when I ask, “And how many brothers do you have?”

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