Page 60 of Hold Your Breath
And then his lips were on hers.
When her brain had gotten away from her in the past and she’d imagined what kind of kisser Callum would be, she’d figured he would kiss like he lived—neat and organized, with structure and a need for complete control. It had been hard to tell what he was like when he had kissed her outside the library, since it had been over before she’d realized what had happened. The reality of his kisses, hisrealkisses, was nothing like she’d imagined.
In real life, the kiss was wild, spinning immediately out of control. As soon as their lips met, they both ignited, grabbing at each other as if they would launch into space otherwise. Lou’s hands found his shoulders, her fingers trying to get a purchase in the unyielding muscle beneath his shirt, while Callum cupped the back of her head with one hand. As his other found her hip, yanking her tight against him, he stepped forward, trapping her in place.
The edge of the counter dug into her lower back, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was getting closer to Callum, pressing against him as if she could bury herself inside of him. His teeth closed on her lower lip, sending shocks of pleasure through her, and she gasped. He immediately took advantage of her parted lips, stroking into her mouth with a swipe of his tongue, taking possession as if she and all of her body parts belonged to him.
She made a sound, low and needy, and yanked at his shirt, wanting skin-to-skin contact. In the tiny, still-thinking portion of her brain, she worried that they were going too fast. The kiss had barely started, and she was already trying to strip the man. That faint warning voice faded as she pulled his shirttails free and burrowed her hands beneath the fabric.
As her fingers met the skin over his stomach, he groaned into her mouth. Sinking his fingers into her hair, he kissed her harder, devouring her mouth. She welcomed the increased pressure, her senses torn between the feel of his mouth and the rigid strength of his abs under her fingertips.
There was no softness to him, no yielding, but that didn’t scare her. It just made her want more of him, more kissing, more touching. Her need turned fierce, and she nipped at his bottom lip as her hands slid around his hard sides to his back. His growl made her flush with heat. His muscles shifted and strained under her palms as he pinned her tighter against the edge of the counter, the pressure of his kiss dipping her into a slight backbend.
Her ears were ringing, and she vaguely wondered if that was the sign of a truly amazing kiss, until Callum reluctantly pulled away from her.
“What?” she asked, trying to follow his retreating mouth for a second, until she realized the sound she heard was his cell phone. With a groan, she dropped her forehead against his chest, where it connected with a thud that made Callum chuckle.
“Cook,” he answered his cell, the roughness of arousal still lingering in his voice. He paused. “You didn’t.”
His body stiffened with what Lou was pretty sure was irritation. Feeling slightly awkward, she let her hands slip from his shirt and took a step to the side. His free hand squeezed her hip before releasing her.
“I’d expect this from Chad or Phil, but not you.”
Even though the reprimand wasn’t directed at her, Lou hid a wince. Callum had perfected theI’m-disappointed-in-youtone, which was intended to create maximum guilt in the recipient.
“I’m out at Lou’s. Isn’t anyone closer available?” Although his tone was brusque, the look he shot Lou was still burning with frustrated need. “Fine. I’ll be there in half an hour.” He glanced out the window over the kitchen sink and grimaced. “With the road conditions, it’ll be closer to forty-five.”
“What’s up?” she asked as he stomped over to the door, where his boots were neatly placed. Melting snow still clung to them, and Lou eyed the slush a little sadly. She’d been envisioning an evening of homemade chicken soup and a cozy fire and making out with Callum. The joys of the first two paled with the loss of the third.
“Wilt put the dive van in a snowdrift.” He jerked on his coat with short, angry motions. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one disappointed by the interruption.
She frowned, confused. “Why was he driving the dive van? Did we miss a call?”
Jamming his cap on his head, Callum practically snarled, “No. He parked it in the lot so he could power-wash the station floors. When he went to drive it back inside, he miscalculated and backed it into the ditch.”
“Wow. Poor Wilt.”
“Poor Wilt?” Callum repeated. “I don’t have any sympathy for him. He’s interrupting my…evening.” His eyes, still hungry, raked over her. Lou had the urge to pull her hoodie around her more tightly, but at the same time she wanted to strip naked. Before she could do either of those things, he gave a final wordless grumble and stomped out the door.
“Bye!” she called before it closed.
Callum stuck his head back inside. “Lock this.”
She nodded.
“Do not go outside.” His light blue gaze felt like it burned her. “Do not open this door for anyone except for me. I don’t care if it’s Santa Claus. Is that understood?”
Resisting the urge to salute, Lou simply said, “Understood.”
He continued staring at her for a long second before giving her a short nod. “I’ll be back as soon as possible. If you hear anything outside, call the sheriff, but do not unlock this door.”
“Cal.” Moving to the door, she gave the hard line of his mouth a quick kiss and then gently pushed him back a step. “I’ve got it. No opening the door to anyone, not even mythical old guys. Now go help Wilt out of the ditch. Drive carefully. I’ll be fine.” Giving him a smile to soften her dismissal, she closed the door and turned the dead bolt. It locked with a solid clunk, and she leaned against the door. If he’d stayed for even one more minute, staring at her with that fiercely protective look she found equal parts aggravating and irresistible, she would’ve dragged him back inside the cabin and had her way with him, snowbound dive van be damned.
It was only when she heard the rumble of Callum’s truck starting that she pushed away from the door. With a sigh, she headed for the kitchen. The soup was bubbling gently and smelled amazing, but she turned off the burner. Between Callum driving in the storm and their unexpectedly mind-blowing make-out session, Lou’s stomach was knotted. She’d wait until he returned to eat.
She fidgeted, playing with the soupspoon. The familiar nervous restlessness that seemed to be her constant companion lately when she was alone rose up in her, making her chest burn. She resented how her stalker had turned her cabin from a refuge to a source of fear. Her gaze settled on the bottle of whisky she’d bought the previous fall. It was mostly full, only missing the single shot she’d taken on Christmas evening after a disastrous phone conversation with her parents.
“What the hell,” she muttered, reaching to grab the bottle. It wasn’t like she was going on any dive-team calls that night after Callum’s strict instructions not to leave the cabin. Unscrewing the cap, she took a drink right out of the bottle, wincing as it burned all the way down.
