Page 65 of Second Chance Fate

He slid an arm beneath her lower back, cradling her, supporting her, moving with her. The world beyond the bed disappeared—nothing but the heat between their bodies existed. Every thrust turned up the dial on his pleasure, winding him tighter and tighter, coiling before its release.

It was wordless; it was worship. He whispered her name between kisses as if it were a secret only he was allowed to know. Their breaths intermingled, binding them together, anchoring him to the here and now, to the reality of this night.

He felt the moment she tipped over the edge, her velvet walls clenched around him in a powerful spasm, her moans and muffled cries against his shoulder. The sensation triggered his own release, and he groaned into her neck. An explosion of ecstasy hit him, an overwhelming rush of pleasure so intense that it stole his breath away. His body shuddered against hers as waves of pleasure ripped through him before settling in a haze of post-orgasmic bliss.

He rolled on his back and pulled her on top of him. Her leg draped over his thigh, and her hand landed on his chest. His left hand caressed her back, up and down, while his right rested on the leg that lay across his body. They stayed like that, entwined, for a long time. Sweat cooled on their skin, and the only sounds were their hearts catching up to themselves and their breathing slowly syncing. He nuzzled into her hair, his lips grazing her temple, and she cuddled closer to him. His fingertips dug into her thigh, afraid that if he let go, she might vanish.

This felt too good to be true. The weight of their intense connection hung heavy in the air, so thick he could barely breathe. He wanted to tell Taylor that he loved her, that he wanted to be a husband to her in every sense of the word, andthat he wanted the entire world to know that she was his wife, but he wasn’t willing to risk her pulling away. They were floating in an intimacy bubble so fragile he feared any acknowledgement of it would cause it to burst. For now, he would have to be patient. For now, his feelings would have to remain unspoken. For now, he would just have to show her how he felt. And he planned on doing that every chance she gave him.

20

Taylor’s eyesfluttered open as she drifted awake in a groggy sense of displacement. The soft sheets felt unfamiliar, and the sunlight bleeding through the curtains was distinctly brighter than the low-wattage bulbs of the cottage. For a moment, she thought she was dreaming, until the warm, musky scent of laundry detergent and a faint trace of musky aftershave brought vivid flashes of the night before surfacing in her mind. Her cheeks instantly flushed at the memories. She wasn’t sure if she was blushing out of arousal or modesty. All of the boldness she felt last night seemed to have worn off.

Without glancing to her left, she knew she was alone in bed, which she was grateful for. She was glad to have a moment to herself to process. The last thing she remembered was being in Caleb’s arms. She’d fallen asleep snuggled up against him, his hand running up and down her back as she rested her head on his chest with his heart beating against her cheek. It was the same way she’d fallen asleep the night they’d spent together in Daytona Beach, but that night she’d been the one to wake up first, and he was the one who had woken up alone.

Her vision was still blurry as she reached over to the nightstand and retrieved her phone. She blinked blearily at the display and saw it was 8:54 a.m., and there were no messages from Owen. No news was good news when it came to Owen’s health. She let out a sigh of relief.

After pushing up to a sitting position, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, expecting to see the evidence of their hookup on the floor. In her head, she imagined a chalk outline around the sweats, shirt, and her underwear like a crime scene, but they were no longer on the floor. Instead, the only clothing she saw was a robe on the nightstand. She slid the robe on and padded into the en-suite bathroom, where she found that Caleb had placed a clean shirt, a pair of sweats, and socks on her overnight bag from the hospital. She needed to go back to the cottage to grab some of her clothes today, but until then Caleb had graciously offered her another pair of his sweats and a shirt.

After piling her hair up in a messy bun and taking a quick shower to rinse off where she got the remnants of the glue from the IV tape off of her arm, she dried off and slathered lotion on herself. She brushed her teeth and got dressed in Caleb’s t-shirt, which she was swimming in, and sweats, pulling them up and cinching the drawstring tight enough to keep them from making an unscheduled descent. When she was tying the knot on the sweats, she glanced in the mirror and saw that the shirt he’d chosen had one of her favorite TV couples, Jim Halpert and Pam Beasley fromThe Office,on it. It was an outline of their characters, and she immediately recognized the scene. It was when Pam fell asleep on Jim’s shoulder during a meeting and Jim didn’t want to move after it ended. There were words in a circle around it, but they were so small she couldn’t read them. She stepped closer to the mirror but realized that she was trying to read them backwards, so she lifted the shirt up and was able to read the quote from the show. “When you’re a kid, you assumeyour parents are soulmates; my kids are gonna be right about that.”

Her heart didn’t just skip; it was doing Olympic-level double Dutch, but she pulled it back by the collar mid-jump.

It’s just a shirt, she told herself. They’d watched The Office the night before, and she told him it was her comfort show. That was why he’d picked it out. That’s it. Nothing more.

Putting all soulmate references out of her mind, she grabbed her phone and headed out of the bedroom. In the hallway, a buttery, syrupy scent mingled with fresh-brewed coffee wafted through the air, causing her mouth to water and her stomach to growl.

When she reached the kitchen, she winced. It was brighter than she expected. Sunlight poured through the wall of accordion glass doors that led to the backyard. Caleb had his back to her, standing at the stove with both dogs posted on either side of him like the King’s Guard at Buckingham Palace.

Her mouth watered once again, but this time it had nothing to do with the delicious smell; it was the yummy sight that had her taste buds salivating. Caleb was shirtless, wearing only a pair of dark gray drawstring sweats that were riding low on his hips. She watched as he flipped a pancake with a spatula in one hand and stirred scrambled eggs with the other, like a pro chef. His back, shoulders, and biceps flexed with every movement. The chiseled lines of his Adonis-like upper body and his competence at preparing even the most basic food had her feeling a little,a lot,lightheaded.

Taylor caught herself becoming unexpectedly flustered by the sight of him in domestic mode. She took a step back and must have made a sound because he turned and glanced over his shoulder.

“Morning.” He smiled, revealing the very deep dimple in his left cheek, sapping whatever strength she had in her legs.

Thankfully, the doorway was within swoon distance from the table, and she lowered down into the chair without incident. When she did, she felt the effects of their activities the night before. She was sore in places that she didn’t know could get sore. “Morning,” she replied.

“How are you feeling?” Caleb asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

She wondered if he was asking in the general sense or if it was more specific to their night.

“Better,” she answered generically.

“I hope you’re hungry.”

“I am.” She nodded.

Taylor felt her pulse quicken just being in the same room as Caleb again. She watched as he plated both the pancakes and the scrambled eggs and bacon. He fed a few pieces of bacon to both Casper and Minnie, making sure they felt included in the breakfast. He even thanked them for ‘helping’ him cook, praising them as the best sous chefs he’d ever had. The way he was with Minnie and Casper was just one indicator of what a good man he was. He was basically just a walking green flag.

After a few trips back and forth from the kitchen, the table was filled with a pitcher of orange juice, iced water, pancakes, eggs, bacon, syrup, and butter. Caleb sat down and placed a lavender pill dispenser next to Taylor’s plate. She glanced down at it and saw that the morning and evening compartments were filled.

“You need to take your morning pills with food,” he stated.

She looked up at him. “You got this forme?”

He nodded.

It might seem like a silly thing, butno onehad ever done that for her. When she was sick in foster homes or in group homes, she was always responsible for her own medication. No one everknew when she was supposed to take it or if she needed to take food with it or not.

---