Page 63 of Second Chance Fate

She might regret her actions tomorrow, but in that moment, she decided to ride her liquid courage wave. “When you said you weren’t asking for a traditional marriage, is that because you’re not attracted to me?”

His jaw twitched as his nostrils flared. “No.”

“So youareattracted to me?”

“Yes.” The rasp in his deep voice vibrated through her. Goosebumps rose on the bare skin of her arms.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

With a quiet smile, Caleb reached up and cupped the back of her head. He guided her closer and lowered his mouth, pressing his lips to hers. They kissed, slow and unhurried. His hands were so gentle as they framed her face, thumbs drifting over her cheeks and jaw, tangling lightly in her hair. The kiss was gentle, languorous, and chaste. She could feel him holding back when he broke it and pressed his forehead to hers.

For several moments, neither of them spoke; they simply breathed each other in, exhaling weeks of tension, fear, and longing, at least on her end. Unable to keep her hands to herself, she reached up and touched his cheek. Her fingertips grazed the stubble on his square jawline, then ran down the slope of his neck onto his chest. His breaths came in shallow pants; she lowered her arm and slid her hands under his shirt, feeling the warm, firm muscles of his back, before she pulled the fabric up and over his head and discarded it onto the floor.

For a second, she just looked at him—at the faint tan lines around his biceps, the subtle dusting of freckles on his shoulders, and the silvery line of a decades-old scar on his side. She remembered seeing the same scar the first time they were together.

She took her time discovering his upper body again. Her palms tingled as they floated lightly over his skin, curious and almost shy. He had the kind of body that told the story of a man who used himself in service of others, manual labor, strong and capable, but not sculpted for show in a gym. She traced the ridge of his collarbone with her fingertips, following it to the curve of his shoulder, then moved down along the broad span of his chest.

Caleb stood perfectly still, letting himself be explored, his lids heavy and mouth parted, the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling with unrestrained pleasure. She dragged her fingers across the curve of his biceps, followed the veins down toward his forearm, then returned to the slope of his neck.

He was warm under her touch, his muscles tensing and releasing in rhythm with his breath. Her hands coasted over the subtle definition of his torso, fingers mapping the tiny indentations around his ribs, the hard plateau of his pecs, the faint ladder of abdominals. She let herself indulge in the comfort of his strength. The knowledge that he could easily pick her up, hold her, and protect her made her dizzy in the best way.

He watched her as she allowed her hands to glide over his body, committing every inch to memory. She felt her own heartbeat sync to his as her palm flattened to his chest, feeling his pulse pound beneath her touch. When she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his heated skin, he made a low, involuntary groan, and her entire body shivered at the sensation of invoking a visceral response in him. His hands were suddenly on her waist, tentative at first, as if he needed her permission to reciprocate, but then growing firmer as she leaned into him.

She wanted to absorb every detail of him: the scar above his left hip, the faint, clean scent of cedar and soap, and the way his muscles twitched when her nails scraped gently along the line of his spine. For once, she didn’t feel awkward or self-conscious—she felt powerful, beautiful even, in the way he looked at her like she was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. It was the first time in years she felt wholly and unapologetically desired.

He moved closer, enveloping her, his hands steady as he slid them beneath the oversized shirt—his own, which he’d offered her before her shower. The cotton bunched and gathered at his wrists as her skin tingled beneath his touch. He paused at herwaist, letting his fingers rest on the curve of her hip, just above the slouchy waistband of the sweats she’d also borrowed.

She looked up at him and found his eyes searching hers, giving her every chance to back away, to stop him, to say no. Instead, she met his gaze, silently giving him consent. He smiled a smile she’d never seen before that caused a shock of bliss to explode between her legs. It was a smile that held less than chivalrous intentions and could only be classified as bad boy before peeling away her shirt in one slow, deliberate move.

Instead of feeling vulnerable or exposed as the shirt pooled to the ground, she felt empowered as she stood topless, her breasts bare in front of Caleb. His eyes devoured her as if he were seeing her for the first time. The air between them felt charged and magnetic; every muscle in her body tightened in anticipation. For a long, silent moment, they just breathed, watching the space shrink around them until the world seemed far from the little circle of heat they created in his bedroom.

His stare was not abstract; it was tangible. The tips of her breasts tightened under his attention. Shefeltit. A deep ache quivered beneath her skin. When a whimper escaped her, a smile flitted across Caleb’s lips. She looked up and saw the look in his eyes as he stared at her with a primal intensity that was both reverent and indecent at the same time. He truly had a gift.

When he finally reached out to touch her, he dragged his fingertips along the curved line of her torso so lightly she could barely feel it except for the trail of goosebumps left in his wake. He paused, his hands framing her waist. His fingers gripped her as his thumbs brushed the soft skin at her ribs. She held his gaze, silently begging him for more. He relented, cupping her breasts in his palms, sensually massaging them with the perfect combination of tenderness and force. His thumbs teased at the barest edge of her nipples, brushing them in slow, lazy circles,building the tension between her legs until her knees threatened to buckle and her toes curled against the hardwood floor.

She arched her back, pushing herself into his touch, her body begging for more. A tingle of pleasure burst low in her belly, forcing a soft whimper to slip from her lips. He answered her wordless plea, leaning in to press his lips to the hollow of her throat. Her head fell back, giving him full access to her, as his mouth moved lower and lower, planting tiny, featherlight kisses down her chest, along the line of her sternum, and then, finally, capturing her nipple between his lips. The tip of his tongue flicked across her pebbled nub as his teeth gently sank into the sensitive area surrounding her areola, and the sensation was electric.

She gasped, one hand clutching his bicep, the other cupping the back of his head, tangling in his thick, brown hair.

“Caleb,” she whispered, subconsciously pleading for him to never stop what he was doing.

“Hmmm,” he hummed in response, as if his agreement was a taste he wanted to savor on his tongue.

For a few dizzying seconds, all she could do was feel: the rasp of his stubble against her skin, the wet texture of his tongue, the sting of his bite, the slow, deliberate way his hands explored her sides and spine, and the way her body had started to tremble with a need that bordered on desperation.

He moved to her other breast, giving it the same attention, then let his hands slide down her flanks, fingers splaying wide across her hips. Every touch, every caress, felt like a small act of worship. For so many years, she’d been made to feel self-conscious, like she wasn’t enough during sex, but with Caleb, she felt bold, unashamed. She wanted him to see everything, to know every inch of her.

Desperation, unlike any she’d ever felt before, overwhelmed her as she whimpered his name in an urgent plea, “Caleb,please.”

Everything stopped. His hands fell from her waist as he took a step back. Her stomach dropped with fear that she’d ruined the moment. She looked up at him, his lips parted, chest heaving, half-lidded eyes full of need that nearly brought her to tears. The impact of the desire mirroring her own that she saw in his gaze caused her to gasp, and her body flushed with anticipation. Seeing her reaction, the corners of Caleb’s mouth curled, slow and sly, into a smile that had tingles spreading through Taylor’s body like butter melting in a hot pan. She watched as Caleb kneeled down in front of her, leaned forward, and pressed his lips to her stomach, placing a trail of gentle, open-mouthed kisses from her ribs all the way to the low rise of her waistband.

His fingers hooked at the waist of her sweats, or rather his sweats, but he didn’t pull them down right away. His eyes lifted to hers, searching her face for some sign to stop or slow down, but she met his gaze and nodded, urging him on. He traced the waistband with his fingertips before he pulled them down, revealing her bare legs and the scrap of lace that barely covered her sex. He then hooked his thumbs in the strings on her hips and tugged her panties down to her ankles.

A thrill raced down Taylor’s spine in anticipation of what was to come as she placed her hand on Caleb’ shoulder and stepped out of her clothes.

“Are you cold?” he asked softly, his voice husky and sweet as honey.

“A little,” she replied, though it wasn’t the truth. She was burning up from the inside out.

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