29. Sage

29

Sage

A fter reporting the incident at the station, I had gone home to spend some time alone. The sheriff had one of his officers doing a drive-by every couple hours to make sure Jason didn’t show up here, which eased a bit of my worry. I hoped he wouldn’t and that this was all just an extra precaution. If he did, I at least hoped it wouldn’t be when Avery was here.

Charlotte had picked Avery up from school, and when I called to let her know I was on the way to the ranch, she’d offered to let her spend the night. I guess Callan had told her some of the details through text when he’d asked her to get Avery from school. She understood immediately and dropped everything to help in any way she could.

I ached for a mother figure like that.

My grandmother had filled that void while my mom was out with a new boyfriend every week, and Charlotte only made me miss her presence more.

Oh, what my grandmother would say if she saw me now.

Don’t get hung up on boys that aren’t hung up on you.

But that was the problem.

Jason was hung up on me for all the wrong reasons; he wanted control, and he saw me as an easy target.

Callan was hung up on me for all the right reasons, but I felt guilty for it.

And the sad part was that I fucking shouldn’t.

I should let him be there for me, but every instinct in my body told me to shut down and leave. To take Avery as far away from here as possible so Jason could never find us again.

But I’d already tried that once, and it didn’t work.

Ruining the life I’d built here wouldn’t create a better one. It’d just restart the cycle.

So I had to hope that the police found Jason and he was sent back to prison for violating his parole by crossing state lines. I’d filed for a restraining order yesterday as well, which made Callan feel at least a little better.

We all knew a piece of paper wouldn’t keep Jason away, though, which was why I’d been too scared to do it years ago.

I’d barely slept last night, staring at the ceiling with Pudding laying on my stomach and wondering when this would all be over. Every noise made me jump, and I was thankful Avery wasn’t at the house. After hours of laying in bed, I’d gotten up sometime around four a.m. to make coffee. With only a few hours of sleep and my spiraling thoughts, the caffeine didn’t help all that much, and now I was just an anxious mess.

All I wanted was to call Callan, but he had a life. A job. A family. I couldn’t just disrupt it because I needed him.

I didn’t want to become a burden. The problems I had with Jason were already laid bare for Callan, and though he hadn’t moved a single muscle yesterday when I told him everything Jason had done to me in the past, I didn’t want to interrupt his life because of mine.

Scooting the dining room chair back and setting Pudding on the ground from where she’d been laying on my lap, I got up and went into the kitchen. I wished for nothing other than the smell of cookies to fill the house, but I couldn’t find the energy to make them.

Baking was my therapy, but even now, thinking about getting the ingredients out made me want to curl up in a ball on the floor and waste the day away.

I ran a finger along the knobs on the front of the oven, staring at the numbers and dashes that indicated certain heat levels. It wasn’t anything fancy, but I didn’t need fancy appliances or kitchenware. The comfort they provided was enough for me.

A knock at the door made me pull my hand back as I looked over my shoulder toward the front entry. My heart seemed to skip a beat, a bass drum thumping in my chest like the soundtrack to my own doom .

It wasn’t Jason.

He wouldn’t just show up here.

But he’d shown up at the cafe, hadn’t he?

I grabbed the closest thing to me, gripping the wooden stirring spoon in my hand as my feet dragged themselves to the front entry. Twisting the lock, I wrapped a fist around the knob and turned, opening the door an inch to see who it was.

My shoulders relaxed, my grip on the spoon loosening. “Callan?”

He eyed the crack in the door, probably wondering why I wasn’t opening it further, then in less than a second, realization struck. Taking a step back, I pulled the door open wider.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

He held a grocery bag up in his hand. “Figured you might want company.”

A crease formed between my brows. “What’s that?”

His eyes fell to the spoon in my hand. “Why do you have a spoon?”

Dropping my gaze to the utensil, I twisted it in my fingers, momentarily having forgotten that I was even holding it. “I, uh, I thought you were someone else.”

His face fell, his hand that was holding the plastic bag falling to his side. “Sage…”

“I know, silly me. A spoon wouldn’t save me.” Nothing will.

He stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him, then folded himself around me. “Baby, you should’ve called me. ”

But calling him would’ve let on to how scared I was, and in my experience, men either loved scared women or they hated them.

“I’m okay,” I lied. I wouldn’t be okay until he was behind bars, but even before, it took me years to stop looking over my shoulder.

“You know you don’t have to lie to me,” Callan murmured, running his free hand down my back.

“I promise, it’s much better than the truth,” I told him.

The rough timbre of his voice vibrated through his chest, giving me the comfort I so desperately needed. “I only want the truth with you. No matter how bad it may be. Remember my rules?”

I inhaled deeply, a sense of calm washing over me now that Callan was here. How could I forget the rules he instilled in me that night in front of his mirror? Yet even then, he hadn’t demanded anything. He laid a path for me to follow if I chose to.

Pulling back slightly, I looked at him. “Only truths, then.”

He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Only truths.”

After he removed his lips from my skin, I looked down at the bag. “Did you buy me groceries?”

He grinned, removing his hand from around my waist to grab the handle of the bag, holding it open. “I brought ingredients to make cinnamon rolls.”

Arching an eyebrow, I said, “Middle of the day craving?”

A blush heated his cheeks. “I wouldn’t say I was craving cinnamon rolls.”

The unspoken words clung in the air, tension radiating between us.

“Hmm. I wonder why you’d bring the makings for them, then,” I wondered out loud.

The corner of his mouth ticked up. “I want you to teach me.”

I wanted to learn a lot of things from him, but Callan taking an interest in what I did and wanting to learn how to do it himself? My mouth would’ve dropped open if it wasn’t for me asking, “To bake?”

“Yeah. What else would you be teaching me with all of this?”

A warmth spread through my chest, crawling up my neck as I smirked. “How to have fun with it, too.”

***

“You want me to just wear this?” Callan asked, holding the fabric up in his hands.

I nodded.

“No boxers?”

“That’s up to you.”

I’d immediately dragged him down the hall to my bedroom and rifled through the dresser to find my spare apron. If this was supposed to be all about having fun and getting my mind off everything else, I was going to take advantage of it. I’d much rather have my attention on his body instead.

“Alright. Out,” he instructed.

“I don’t get to watch?”

He smiled, waving his hand at me to shoo. “You’ll get to see the final result.”

Watching Callan strip in front of me seemed a lot more enticing than the cinnamon rolls now.

“Go on. Close the door behind you.”

I let out a hmph and turned around, pulling the door shut and heading back to the kitchen. I’d debated changing into an apron myself, but kept my pajamas on instead. The shorts were a bit too short, the top a bit too flimsy, but I doubted Callan minded.

I got to work setting out all the ingredients we’d need for the recipe, aside from what he’d brought, as I waited for him to come out. Minutes later, the door down the hall opened.

I grabbed the cinnamon from the cabinet and turned to find Callan standing in the opening to the hallway with one arm propped up on the wall.

My jaw fucking dropped.

My cheeks had to be a million shades of red as I took him in.

“You actually did it,” I said, disbelief ringing in my tone.

“I did it for you, and if you tell anyone—”

“Oh, don’t worry. This is all for me.” All six-foot-whatever of him was mine tonight.

I eyed the apron slung around his neck, his broad shoulders exposed. His arms were fucking mouthwatering. Muscles like that should not be allowed. He was all toned, tanned, and delicious, and I wanted a taste.

He shoved off the wall, coming over to the kitchen to join me. When he turned, I saw he had kept his boxers on. “No commando?” I pouted.

He looked over his shoulder at me with a lift to the corner of his mouth. “I figured you might want to remove those later yourself.”

I was glad he turned back around to grab the bowls out of the cabinet because I was on fucking fire.

The way his words affected me could make this whole place go up in flames and I’d still stand here relishing in the fact that this man was in my kitchen in nothing but boxers and an apron.

He set the bowls on the counter next to me, leaning a hand on the edge as he homed in on me.

“Ready to get started?” he asked.

My eyes trailed over his arm, up his shoulders to his collarbones, then slid up his neck to meet his gaze.

“Yes.” On more than just the cinnamon rolls.

He reached around me to turn the knob on the oven to start the preheat, his hand dangerously close to me. As he pulled his arm away, his fingers gripped my ass softly, all while keeping his eyes on me. “Then let’s get to it, baby.”

We got to work on prepping the dough, bringing all the ingredients together to make a ball. As we waited for it to rest, I moved on to the icing as he wiped the counter where we’d made the dough.

“Taste this,” I said, dipping my finger into the bowl. I held it out to him and he faced me, wrapping his lips around the digit and sucking the icing into his mouth.

He made a low humming sound in the back of his throat, his tongue thoroughly licking my finger clean before he released it. “It’s delicious. Cream cheese frosting was the way to go. Have you tried it?”

I nodded. “I just wanted to make sure you liked it.”

He inched closer. “Here, have another taste.”

Callan dipped his finger into the bowl, gingerly coating his skin. He held it out to me and I opened my mouth, letting him slide his finger in.

Fuck, this was hot.

This man had me sucking icing off his finger, and all I could think about were the many other places I could be licking it off of his body.

“Good?” he asked as I twirled my tongue around it with another suck. He pulled his finger out, watching me intently.

“Amazing.”

He dipped his finger into the bowl again. “Get on your knees and try it again.”

Oh, fuck.

Though he was the one standing there in only an apron and boxers, I quickly became the one at his mercy. He hadn’t needed to wear the apron, but he’d done it for me. Now all I wanted to do was return the favor in any way he wanted it, and if being on my knees was what he desired, then I’d do it.

I lowered myself, keeping my eyes glued to his as my knees met the ground. I opened my mouth and he brought his finger to my tongue, letting me close my lips around the digit.

Was it wrong that I wished I was sucking something else of his instead?

“That taste good, baby?”

I hummed, nodding as I took his finger the slightest bit deeper.

After it was licked clean, he removed his finger again. He eyed me, then dipped back into the bowl, but instead of staying where he was, he casually crossed the kitchen, leaning back against the wall. He watched me from where he stood, hunger shining in his eyes.

But it wasn’t hunger for the icing or the cinnamon rolls or any of that.

It was for me.

“Crawl to me.”

My palms lowered to the ground, and slowly, I prowled toward him, never once removing my eyes from his.

He watched every movement, his stance nonchalant, like he had all the time in the world to visually devour me.

Like nothing else mattered but me.

I stopped once I was right in front of him, removing my palms from the ground to perch up on my knees.

“Now be a good girl and suck my finger like you wish it was my cock.”

My lips parted, wrapping around his finger again, but instead of stopping at the knuckle, I took his finger all the way in, letting the tip of it hit the back of my tongue.

I liked to think men had big hands for a reason, and this was one of them.

My cheeks hollowed as I sucked, my tongue twisting and twirling around him, and my mouth ached to be full. Sucking his finger was fine, but I wanted more.

My mouth slid off of him. “I want more.”

“Oh, yeah?” he questioned. “How much more?”

“You. All of you. Inside me.”

He reached down, hooking his hands under my armpits, and hauled me up so that I was standing before him.

“Inside you here?” he asked, running a finger over my lips. He trailed down my jaw, over my chest, and past the hem of my shorts. His touch sent goosebumps down my thighs as he shoved the leg of my shorts aside and slid his hand up to my pussy.

I knew he felt how utterly soaked I was.

“Or here?”

“Both.” The word came out like a plea.

“My finger not enough for you, baby?”

I wanted to whimper at the thought of him filling me with his dick instead. “I want more.” It wasn’t just the sex I wanted more of with him, it was everything else, too. I wanted this to be more than what it was, and with us crossing this line, it solidified us. “As long as you do, too.”

He brought his hand to my cheek, gently tucking my hair behind my ear. “I’ve just been waiting for you to say the words.”

In an instant, his hands came around my waist, lifting me up so that I had to wrap my legs around him. He started walking, aiming for my bedroom.

He kicked the door shut behind him, then crossed to the bed. My ass landed on it with a slight bounce. Now sitting in front of him, he reached behind his back to undo the knot on the apron, quickly pulling it over his head and tossing it to the ground. I didn’t hesitate as I shoved his boxers down, his dick springing free.

My hand gripped the base of it as I darted my tongue out to lave up the drop that beaded at the tip.

“Fuck, Sage. I could get off on you doing that alone.”

Satisfaction surged through me with the effect I had on him. I was glad I wasn’t the only one completely gone at the moment.

My lips wrapped around the head of his dick as I slowly pulled it deeper into my mouth, my movements slow as I took my time with him.

He was gentle as he wrapped his hands in my hair, not to hold me in place, but to make it easier for me to enjoy him without the strands getting in the way.

My hand pumped him in rhythm with my mouth, my tongue flat against the underside of his dick. He cursed, pulling my head back so that my mouth released him. “I can’t wait any longer.”

“I’m on birth control,” I said. “And I haven’t had sex in a few years, but I’m clean.”

“I’m clean, too—” He angled my head to look up at him as his eyes widened. “Wait, years ? When you told me about the orgasms before, I assumed you’d still been having sex.”

I nodded. “Not since…”

He leaned down, pressing his lips to mine so that I didn’t have to say the words. I got lost in him, in his mouth, in the way he released my hair and smoothed his hands over my cheeks, my jaw, my neck.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against mine. “I’ll take care of you. You have any second thoughts, or if anything hurts, you tell me, okay?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“And remember, Sage. You’re beautiful. Every damn inch of you.”

His hands trailed to my thighs, pulling my shorts down so they puddled on the floor. He moved his fingers to my shirt, lifting it up and over, and tossed it to the ground. I fought to keep my arms to the side rather than covering my scar, repeating his words of affirmation over and over in my mind.

His eyes heated as he took in that I wasn’t wearing a bra, then brought his hands back to my thighs. He lifted me slightly so that he could move me up the bed, and once he was satisfied with my placement, he laid me back against the comforter, my head resting on the pillow.

“You don’t have to be gentle,” I told him as he hovered over me.

“Trust me, baby. Gentle will not be in my vocabulary once I’m inside of you.”

My thighs wanted to squeeze together to relieve some of the pressure, but Callan reached down, wrapping a hand around my leg. “Spread your legs.”

I did, and then he was lining himself up with my pussy. “I can get a condom if you want,” he said, his breathing deep and even.

I shook my head. “Please just fuck me, Callan.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Yes, ma’am.”

In an instant, he was easing into me. My breath hitched as the muscles in his arms flexed from where he was holding himself up. With his hands braced on either side of my head, I had the best view of every inch of him. His chest, his stomach, his arms, his face. All of it made me melt into the feel of him.

Once he was fully inside of me, he gave me a minute to adjust, and I wrapped my hands around his arms.

“Breathe, baby,” he said, taking a deep breath himself.

I squirmed slightly, wrapping my legs around him, and he took that as his cue to continue. He began thrusting in and out of me, starting slow at first, but then he lost it, pounding into me as my moans got louder, my fingers digging into his skin.

My legs fell to the bed and he pulled out, grabbing my hips to flip me over. He hoisted me up so that my ass was in the air, my chest and face pressed to the bed.

“Fucking hell, Sage. You’re perfect.”

He smoothed a hand over my ass as he inserted himself back into me and I let out another moan.

“That feel good, baby?”

“Yes,” I breathed. It felt fucking amazing.

The angle mixed with the fullness of him had my core tightening as soon as he began thrusting again.

My hand fisted in the sheets as I reached between my legs with the other to circle my clit.

His hand gripped my hip. “That’s it. Touch yourself for me. Bring yourself to that edge and let go.”

As his speed increased, so did my fingers. That blissful sensation built between my legs as he thrust deeper into me. I knew he could feel it, too, because he groaned as it built.

I let the pressure build, the sweetness pooling in my center, and then I did as he said. I let go.

I screamed his name, my voice muffled by the pillow. With my name on his lips, he buried himself as deep as he could go and filled me, collapsing over my body. He held himself up so he didn’t crush me as he came down, and I was thankful he didn’t move yet.

I’d miss the fullness of him inside me once he was gone.

He kissed the crook of my neck, then moved his lips to my shoulder blade, and placed a final kiss on my spine before pulling out. My hips lowered to the bed as I stayed flat on my belly, and he wrapped an arm around me, laying his head on my back.

“In every sense of the word, you are breathtaking, Sage McKinley.” His jaw moved on my back as he spoke, his finger tracing a circle right above the curve of my ass.

“You are, too, Callan Bronson.”

He let out a small scoff and I moved, twisting so that I was on my back and his head was now on my stomach. I reached down, cupping his cheeks with my hands so he’d look up at me.

“Not just the physical features. Though, you are great to look at. But your mind, your heart, your empathy for everyone around you. You’re so much more than what meets the eye, and I hope you always stay true to that.”

He swallowed, then scooted up to press a slow kiss to my lips.

But it wasn’t just his lips on mine in that moment. It was the two of us telling one another that words couldn’t sum up the feelings we were growing for each other. How it didn’t matter if we were laying in this bed or out in the world—we’d be there to bring the other up when they were down.

We’d be what the other needed us to be while being completely ourselves, because me and Callan? We were two souls trying to find another for the longest time, and the universe finally gave us that chance.

It was finally giving us our happily ever after.