Page 74 of What Hurts Us

“You know,” I said between bites of a fried green tomato spring roll. “When I said I needed a distraction, this isn’t what I had in mind.”

Cal looked up from the remnants of his shrimp and grits. “No?”

I gave him a smile. “I usually craft until my fingers hurt, then drink wine and cry in the shower.” I tipped to the side and nudged his shoulder. “This is better.”

“You know what’s even better than cheesy action movies and whatever the Mule has on special?” he asked as he cleared our takeout containers, shoving them back in the to-go bags.

“What’s that?” My eyes were glued to the TV. Charlize was about to show off her badass lock-picking skills and blow the boys’ minds.

In one smooth motion, Cal had me pinned beneath him. “Orgasms.”

I giggled as his stubble scraped the column of my throat. “I haven’t showered, babe.”

Cal paused. His eyes searched me curiously. A cautious smile painted his lips.

“What?” I asked, looping my arms around his neck. After rather ceremoniously falling into bed and saying to hell with our “pretend engagement” boundaries, I had started craving his touch more than just when we had to fake it for the town. He was a fast-acting drug, pulsing through my system.

“You called me babe.”

I chewed on my lower lip. “Is … is that okay?” When Cal didn’t say anything, I rambled. “I mean, I could have called you Pooh Bear—you know, because you call me honey.”

His sheepish smile broke in a blinding flash of white. “I, uh… I like ‘babe.’ I like hearing you say it.”

I reached up and stroked the short-clipped hair at his temples. Being pinned beneath Callum Fletcher was my favorite place in the world. “I really do need to shower, though.”

“Fine by me,” he grunted as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, grabbed my ankles, and hauled me down to the edge. I squealed as he grabbed my hips and hoisted me over his shoulder. My chin hit the base of his scapula. With his stolen boxers riding up and giving me a nuclear wedgie, Cal had a front-row seat to my butt cheeks. He reached over and spanked my ass, caressing the sting away before smacking it again.

I was deposited on the edge of the bathtub and watched as Cal stripped off his shirt. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He tossed it into the hamper. “I’m getting in the shower with you. Stand up.” Cal gave me an appreciative assessment as I did what I was told. He tugged me into his chest by hooking his finger in the elastic band of the boxers sitting low on my hips. “Good girl. Arms up.”

I obeyed, raising my arms while he stripped me out of the oversized t-shirt.

“So pretty for me,” Cal murmured as he tugged on my nipple.

I squealed and fell into him. He caught me with both hands on my ass, kneading and squeezing as his lips found mine. Heat flashed down my stomach and pooled between my legs. My skin was charged like a live wire. I squeezed my thighs together, aching for relief as he cupped my breasts in his hands, rolling my pert nipples between his fingers. I whimpered as he tugged. The quick bite of pain eased into mellow warmth.

“Get in the shower.”

“Cal—” I whined.

His smile was devilish. “Get in the water, and I’ll make you feel so good, you’ll forget everything.”

I muttered a string of rather unladylike profanities under my breath as his attention left me and focused on making sure the shower was at the perfect temperature.

I wiggled out of his boxers and stepped under the water. After setting our towels on the edge of the vanity, Cal was quick to join me. He grabbed my loofah and poured an absurd amount of body wash on the mesh. It grew into a massive cloud of suds that he worked over every inch of my body with gentle strokes. When I looked like the Persian version of the abominable snowman, he nudged me back under the spray to rinse.

I had come to realize it was how he showed love. He may not have known it, but Callum Fletcher loved big and hard. He wasn’t afraid to do for others what he would never allow them to do in return. I shampooed my hair at warp speed, so I didn’t hog all the hot water. We switched, him taking the primo spot under the showerhead to rinse off the soap that clung to his strapping muscles. I stayed on the steamy side of the small shower, letting the conditioner in my hair sit while I ran a razor over my legs. We swapped again so that I could rinse my hair.

Cal joined me under the spray, gently massaging my hair as he drew me into a kiss. Rivulets ran down our faces as we tasted, touched, and teased. He bit my bottom lip, giving it a firm tug with his teeth before sucking on it. I whimpered into his mouth and pressed my hips against his. Callum’s thick erection pressed against my belly—the root of it nestling against my clit. I tipped my head back, letting the water pour down my chest as he rolled his hips back and forth.

Fingers traced my pussy—teasing each fold, memorizing it like a map. “Wouldn’t it feel so good to have my tongue right here?” He pressed the pad of his thumb to my clit. “Or right here.” He slid a finger into my entrance and stroked.

His hand moved back, disappearing between the cleft of my cheeks. “Maybe you like this?” He teased the hidden pucker of muscle with the tip of his finger.

I sucked in a sharp breath, drops of water from the shower falling into my gaping mouth.

Callum groaned with barely restrained desire as he slid his other hand between my legs, slipping his fingers into my pussy. “You’re so wet. Dripping in honey.” He circled a thick finger around my walls, stretching and teasing. “Is all this for me?”

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