Page 72 of Philly
He stilled, his hand splayed across her back. When he didn’t respond right away, she started to backpedal, thinking she’d gone too far, too fast. She opened her mouth, but his lips covered hers in a bruising kiss that went on and on. Then abruptly, she was on her feet, his hands at her waist steadying her. His mouth no longer on hers.
“Gabriel?” she asked into the dark.
“I’ll give you everything you want, Callie, on one condition,” he said, his voice heavy and gruff.
She nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see. “What’s that?”
“I want to feel everything, too,” he said, then slid his hands up, taking her shirt with them.
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Philly’s hands shook as he lifted them along Callie’s side, her skin smooth under his palms. Letting her shirt drop to the ground, he traced the lines of her arms, back down her sides, until his fingers met the waist of her sleep shorts—shorts he was going to insist she wear every night, even in the dead of winter. The only thing sexier than the sight of the soft cotton barely long enough to cover her backside, and the long, smooth stretch of her legs, would be her naked.
He slid his fingers under the waistband and pushed them over her hips. With a little nudge, they fell to the floor. His eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness, and he couldn’t see her, not yet, but he could feel her. Feel her softness under his palms, feel the heat of her body wrapping around him. And he could smell her—the scent of the soap she’d used in her bath, a hint of the hair product she’d smoothed in that morning, and something uniquely Callie.
Her hands touched his waist, and his stomach jerked as her fingers brushed the skin above his sweats. He didn’t want to stop touching her, he didn’t want his hands to leave the curve of herhips or the dip in her lower back, but if he wanted to feel her skin against his, he needed to comply with her unspoken demand.
He lifted his arms, and she pulled his shirt over his head the same way he’d removed hers. Once she dropped it to the ground, her hands again mimicked his, and her fingers slid under the band of his sweats, drawing them down.
When they were both naked as the day they were born, he reached for her again. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he splayed his hand on her back and pulled her against him as the other cupped her neck. Her body pressed flush against his, and dimly, he noted the perfect fit as he lowered his head to kiss her.
They remained standing, kissing like teenagers making out on a front step—except for the naked part. And as their tongues tangled and they nipped and teased each other, he decided he’d kiss Callie in any way she’d let him—clothed or not—but unclothed, with nothing between them, would always be his favorite.
Sinking onto the mattress again, she straddled him. A position they’d explore another time, but not tonight. Inching backward, he maneuvered them farther onto the bed, then stretched out over her.
Her legs curled around him, and her hand slid down his spine. With his eyes adjusted to the dark, he pulled far enough away to drink her in, to follow the contours of her face, the curve of her shoulder, the rise of her breast. Reverently, he traced a line from her forehead, down her cheek and jaw, along her collarbone, then down the side of her breast, circling up to cup her in his hand.
All his boyhood fantasies came to life so much better than he’d ever imagined. Better because they’d both grown up, better because they’d both experienced heartache and pain, better because theyhadthe choice, and each had chosen the other. He’d loved Callie as a girl, but he hadn’t known her the way heknew her now. He hadn’t known himself the way he did now. And as scary as this leap in their relationship was, it was also right. So right.
She shifted underneath him, and he brought his gaze up to meet hers. Hesitation shadowed her eyes, and he slid his hand down to her waist.
“We don’t have to do this,” he said.
Her lips tipped into a smile, and he bent his head to drop a soft kiss on each corner.
“It’s not that,” she replied, her voice quiet in the night.
“Talk to me, Callie. If we’ve learned nothing else, it’s that we’re better off if we’re honest with each other.”
She opened her mouth but didn’t say anything. Not at first. As he waited, his thumb brushing across her hip bone, her eyes quieted. She’d made a decision.
“I want to feel you inside me.”
His body jerked in response to her bald statement. The way she held her breath told him she had more to say, though, so he held still.
“I want everything. I want the touches, the caresses, the kisses, the sighs. But I want to feel them while you’re inside me. I’ve waited decades to be this close to you. I never, in my wildest imagination, thought it would ever happen. And now that we’re here, I need it. I need to feel as close to you as two people can physically be. Please.”
She didn’t need to add the “Please,” but that one single word destroyed any lingering shard of hurt they’d caused each other. Leaving behind only the promise of who they were and what they could be.
“There’s a condom in my bag,” she added, tipping her head to the bedside table where her bath kit sat.
He didn’t question or make any jokes, just reached inside, found the three packets, and pulled them out.
She held out her hand when he separated one from the others and closed his eyes to the pleasure when she rolled it on him. A heartbeat later, he slid inside her, holding her gaze the entire time.
She ran her hands down his back, then up his stomach and shoulders, before cupping his neck and pulling him down to kiss her. His lips touched hers as her hips curled up in invitation. An invitation every cell of his body welcomed, and he moved in response.
A soft sigh escaped her lips when he pressed in. Then, slowly, they found a rhythm, one of discovery, one of trust, one of exploration and promise. And when they reached their peak together, they knew everything they needed to know. What lay between them was real, it was lasting, and it was worth fighting for.
