15

Caleb

My world grew exponentially smaller in the space of one day. My world was named Brooke Casterley, and she was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen as we came together in an explosive melding of our bodies. As my heart pounded down from the orgasm, and I struggled to comprehend what’d just happened, I realized it had been much more than a melding of bodies for me. It had been the melding of my heart with hers. I could tell myself it wasn’t possible to feel any different after a session of really good sex, but I would be dead wrong. Because everything was different. Nothing was familiar when it came to Brooke. Each new thing we shared together felt to me as if I’d never done it before, and more importantly, as if I never wanted to do it again with anyone other than her—ever.

What could that possibly mean . . . unless I really was in love with her?

I pulled out of her carefully so we wouldn’t have a condom accident, and was rewarded with the sound of her muffled protest at me leaving. Another first. Wanting to reassure her that I would be right back was also something I’d never had the urge to do—before now. “Be right back, beautiful. Do you need anything?” I couldn’t resist tracing her lips with my finger.

She put her lips around the tip of my finger and sucked lightly. “Just you to come back and keep your promise,” she said, shyly looking up at me all soft and pleasured from her climax. And beautifully naked.

Hell yes, I knew exactly what promise that would be. My caveman brain still remembered the vow I’d made just after we left the shower. The one about me making her come all night long.

Yes, I was in total-without-a-fucking-doubt love with this girl, right here.

“I will. And I will.”

Only a moron would waste a lot of time in the bathroom cleaning the cum off his cock if his beautiful woman was waiting naked for him in the bed. So, no, I did not waste time. But I did pick her clothes up from the floor and fold them so she would see them when she came in here later. I collected up all of the spilled condom packets and put them back in the box, too. Then I took three out again and checked myself in the mirror. Yeah, that’s you wearing the shit-eating grin.

A shit-eating grin because Brooke wanted me keeping my promises, and like the Eagle Scout I am, I had every intention of keeping the very first oath on the list: a scout is trustworthy. Yes, why yes, I am trustworthy.

I fixed the lighting in the room before I got back into bed with her because I couldn’t bear not being able to at least see a little bit. I opened the blinds on the wall of windows so the city lights would illuminate my bedroom. I never did that because it was too much light for me to sleep comfortably, but sleep wasn’t really on my agenda at the moment. I needed some light so I could see Brooke as I made her come for me . . . all—night—long.

SHE really did have the most beautiful tits in the world. The most stunning pair I’d ever met, hands down. Their shape was like a peach, perfectly round with just the slightest upward tilt at the nipples. I’m talking Victoria’s Secret lingerie–model perfection, but all-natural just the way God had made her.

The show she was giving me right now was probably doing permanent damage to my corneas, but I didn’t care. If the last sight my eyes ever saw on this earth was her gorgeous tits bouncing in my face while she rode my cock, then I’d be the happiest goddamn blind man on the planet with that beautiful image to comfort me.

I held one soft breast in each hand and pinched the tips at the same time just to hear the sexy gasp of pleasure I knew she would make. She squeezed her inner muscles around my cock in response, and I knew I was going to fucking go over the edge again. But not until I took her along with me.

I got my fingers between us and worked her slippery nub until I felt another squeeze gripping tight around my cock. “Say my name when you come, baby, I want to hear it.”

Her eyes looked like liquid golden drops in the darkened room—so beautiful—wanton, wildly free as she reached the start of her climax.

“Caaaaa-leb.” It was a shouted whisper, if there can be such a thing. Not loud—because it was softly formed—but something I would have heard her say clearly from across a noisy room. Because she was saying it to me . . . in a moment of total intimacy and complete trust, as we reached the peak together. I pumped everything I had left in me into her, our eyes locked on to one another as we rode it out. There weren’t words to describe it.

She collapsed down on top of me, and I could feel her heart pounding against my chest. Mine was pounding, too. Our hearts just pounded into each other until things settled down and I could think. Thinking was hard, and my brain was exhausted. I wanted not to think, actually. But like the old saying goes, “don’t think of a pink elephant”—and then that’s exactly what your brain delivers up to you on a steaming plate. For me the pink elephant was the question of what she meant to me, and what I wanted from her. I don’t think I consciously knew, as only my subconscious was in the know there.

I rolled us to the side and worked on dealing with the condom. The fuckin’ things were a pain, and I suddenly had an intense distaste for using them with Brooke. Another first for me. I wondered if I should be keeping a tally of my new philosophy on life where she was concerned. We could talk about it later I decided. Right now I wanted her breathing against me as I held her.

She’d already fallen asleep, her head on my pillow, my heart in her hands. I kissed her forehead and stilled as I thought about how right this actually felt. Hadn’t known I was missing anything. Hadn’t known it was possible for someone to steal your heart without even knowing they’d done it. Hadn’t known I needed her.I whispered the words I’d never said before to a woman who wasn’t related to me.

“I love you.”

THEdaylight streaming through the windows woke me when I reached for her, but she’d gone. I hoped she was still in the house, though, or I was going to go full-on panic attack mode. I inhaled deeply. Something smelled very good. Bacon? Was that frying bacon coming from the kitchen? Impossible—but maybe not? I made a quick stop to take a piss and brush my teeth. And drank a glass of water because I was insanely thirsty. I pulled on the sweats from last night and didn’t waste another second fucking around before searching out my Brooke and the delicious smells.

She was cooking breakfast.

In my kitchen.

For us to share.

I just watched her silently, hoping she wouldn’t see me for a moment or two, so I could enjoy the vision of the woman I loved cooking for me the morning after giving me the most amazing night I’d ever experienced in my life.

The flannel pajamas and the socks were back. She’d braided her hair again, too. Brooke was a busy girl as she divided her attention between scrambling eggs, turning bacon, and toasting bread. I could have watched her for an hour and been content.

The curves of her perfect ass were shaped by the fabric of her pajamas as she moved side to side, working between the food prep. I remembered how it felt to have that sweet ass cradled in my hands as we fucked in the bathroom last night. I really hadn’t intended to start us there, so that’s why I moved us to the bed as soon as I physically could. I’d lost control is all. Just desperately, fucking crazy-out-of-my-mind to have her, to know what I was doing.

She hadn’t complained or seemed to mind. She had been one hundred percent on board with everything.

She’d also shared a lot of information about her past last night, from which my head was still reeling.

I would have James find out the details on her husband. She’d mentioned his criminal family and I needed to know the story there. Marcus—the insane sociopath who’d hurt her—was hopefully roasting nicely in hell right about now. It was good he was dead—that way I didn’t have to kill him and spend the rest of my life in prison.

I switched out that thought to something much better—and that was the number four.

Four times last night. My personal record for an eight-hour span of time. I was goddamn proud of myself, too. I was probably on the verge of severe dehydration, though. I should drink some more water.

“Good morning, Caleb.” Oh, that fucking gorgeous voice. It was as if it sang to me every time she spoke.

“Good morning, beautiful.” I came up behind her and carefully wrapped an arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist. “How did you know I was here?”

“I could feel your presence. It’s quite powerful, you know.”

“Hmm . . . is that a good thing?” I asked with my lips at the shell of her ear.

“Yes indeed, with you it is,” she said as she reached a hand up to my face. “I hope it’s okay I’m cooking in your kitchen. I figured it was a good idea to familiarize myself since I have to design a new one.”

I frowned at the thought, realizing I didn’t like her reference to the job. I didn’t want her in here just because I’d hired her to do a job; I wanted her cooking because she sought it out—after a smoking hot night with her man. I had changed roles on her without ever asking, though. I now wanted to be her man, not her boss. For the first time, it dawned on me I might have made a mistake in hiring her.

“It’s more than okay, Brooke. You can cook breakfast any time you get the urge. I fucking love it,” I told her, taking in a deep inhale of the scent of her hair. “How can I help you?”

“You can transfer these plates to the table while I pour coffee,” she said slowly.

“On one condition,” I said.

“And that is?”

“I give you a proper kiss good morning first.”

She froze beneath my hands as if she was trying to hold back. Then I heard it—the softest sob, and then another. She was crying.

“No.” I turned her and got a look: eyes closed, tear streaked, shoulders shaking. “What is it, baby? What did I do?”

She curled into me and sobbed a few more times before pulling herself together. I waited because I sensed it was the right thing to do. I do not know how I knew that, but something told me to just wait her out. I rubbed her back and held her while standing in front of a Viking range I rarely used, in my similarly unused kitchen, and waited for her to say something.

“It’s not you,” she managed to say on the breath of a sob. “I—I do this now. It happens quite a bit, a-actually. I think my accident has something to do with it because I never had this problem before . . .” She took some deep breaths and seemed to be coming out of it, and my heart started beating again.

Fuck. Me. Sideways.

I did not like her crying. It freaked me the fuck out.

I’d thought for a minute she was going to tell me last night had been a terrible mistake.

“Was it—was it me asking to kiss you good morning that brought it on?”

She nodded against my chest, almost as if she were afraid to look at me.

“I need to understand, Brooke. Can you talk to me?”

“I get emotional at the drop of a hat . . . and it’s led to a lot of embarrassing moments just like this one we’re having right now.”

“But, don’t be—please don’t feel embarrassed with me. I don’t mind, I just want to know why.”

“Whenever I talk about my problems to someone, my voice will crack and I’ll start crying. Even wonderful moments choke me up, like when Nan and Herman told me they were getting married, or just now when you said you wanted to give me a good-morning kiss.”

“Me asking to kiss you good morning was a wonderful moment?”

“Yes, it was, Caleb. For me it was, because it teaches me that you want me here.” She sighed heavily against my bare chest, and I could feel the heat of her breath move over my skin. It started things up down south again. All she had to do was speak and I wanted her again. Didn’t she realize that yet? “Rehearsing what I want to say to people doesn’t really help, either, because I end up sobbing and thus can’t get the words out of my mouth, or control that feeling at the back of my throat,” she added with another heavy sigh.

Jesus.Not what I was expecting her to say. Again, I reminded myself that Brooke was someone I barely knew. My feelings for her remained unchanged, but as she revealed more about herself, I understood there were many layers of complexity in her life. Complexities she struggled to work around so she could function as a person. We all had them. Same, but different complexities, pushing in at odd moments, making us dance to their tune. The bastard fuckers.

“Well, let me say this then: having you here to say good morning to, after the night we just shared together, is a wonderful moment for me.” It was more than wonderful actually, but I didn’t want to scare her with how I really felt. Insanely fantastic was closer to the mark. I tugged on her chin with a finger because I needed to see her eyes and I needed her to see mine. “If I cry, too, will that help you feel better?”

My teasing worked because she laughed and her eyes smiled—and my world tilted a little bit more. I got my good-morning kiss, which was spectacular all on its own, but there was more to look forward to. So much more.

I was going to sit down with her and eat the delicious breakfast she’d cooked for me.

And then I was going to carry her back to bed and make love to her again, and reassure her just how much I wanted her here with me.

After that, I was going to carry her into the shower and make her come against my lips one last time before we both got ready for work.

Then I would have the pleasure of dropping her off and kissing her good-bye before she walked inside her building. I would watch her as she went in and know I was seeing my girl. Mine.

Brooke Casterley was mine now.