Page 47 of Altius
“Stay for dinner.”
And that was the end of Alijah.
“Whatdinner? You know what, I don’t care. I’m eating leftover stuffing and tamales. Order your own damn pizza.”
Eleven
Morgan
Standing at my kitchen island, Cal speared another bite of cranberry gingersnap pie. “Is Wyatt always such a smug little shit when he gets something he wants?”
“Language.” I sat across from Cal, answering Rory’s litany of questions about today’s game. It took five texts to reassure him that Landon was fine. We had triple-checked him before he was allowed to leave the stadium.
“Sorry. Is he always such a diminutive blowhard—”
“No height comments.”
“It’s not my fault they’re all shorter than me.” He took another bite of pie. “Shorterandsmaller.”
“More boasting, or do I detect a whiff of jealousy?”
Finishing off his pie with a satisfied rumble, Cal set his plate and fork in the sink, then came around the island.
I angled toward him, but Cal ignored those few inches in favor of taking a mile, wrapping himself around my back and leaning down to nuzzle my neck.
“I suppose I am feeling a bit territorial.” Playful teeth nipped at the hinge of my jaw, overwriting Wyatt’s earlier touches. “My girlfriend is developing quite the following.”
“Is that a problem?”
Cal paused, resting his chin on my shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“Honestly,” I sighed, wriggling within his grasp. “Can we do this somewhere I can see you?”
Stepping back, Cal captured my hand, kissing my knuckles before helping me to my feet. “After you.”
I opted for the library nest. This conversation called for a reassuring fortress of pillows.
Pointing to the far corner, where a mound of cushions awaited, I said, “Sit there.”
“Yes, Dr. Van Daal.” Cal removed his glasses with a chuckle, placing them on the bookshelf.
While I made a few quick adjustments to the space—drawing the blackout curtains, turning on the fireplace, and dimming the lights—Cal deftly undid his black leather belt and pulled it off with one hand. He coiled the belt and set it beside his glasses.
“Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself?” I asked, arching a brow.
“Just getting prepared. This thing’s like luxurious quicksand. Once I’m down, I’m down,” he said, lowering himself onto the padded surface of the nest, knees popping along the way.
He took a few moments to rearrange the pillows to his liking and reclined against the reading wedge. Then I dropped down, straddling his thighs without hesitation.
He let out a surprised huff, hands circling my waist. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to be reading into things?”
“You’re not,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck, the intimacy of the gesture at odds with my clipped words. “This is serious.”
My pheromone stud needed to focus. On me—not what our bodies could do together.
His fingers toyed with the hem of my shirt. “Okay, I’m listening. With a little touching.”
I leaned against Cal’s chest and maintained steady eye contact. “Is Wyatt a dealbreaker for you?”
