Chapter Three
As much as Caleb would have liked to throw down some bills and drag Meg to his bed, the time-appreciater in him wasn’t going to act so rashly. Especially as he was aware that she’d pulled out a metaphorical stun gun by announcing her sudden willingness for sex. She thought to get the upper hand on what was going on between them by taking it down to its basest level.
Hell yeah, he wanted to kiss her, touch her, taste her, take her, but he was in this for a much longer game. That weird dream during surgery had intrigued him enough that he’d made the trip here, but it was Meg herself who held him now. Her beautiful face, her rare smile, that empty place inside her that made him want to pull her close, to fill her up, to treasure her forever.
Tearing off her clothes and driving himself inside her was not the way to make that happen. So he sat back in his chair, picked up his beer again to take a swallow, then caught the server’s eye and asked for a couple of menus.
Meg shot him a suspicious glance.
He hid his smile behind his bottle. “Got to fuel us up, you know,” he explained. “Want to have plenty of energy to deplete.”
She twitched. “Maybe I’m not hungry.”
Oh, yeah, now that she’d made a decision, she was desperate to race forward. Caleb caught her hand in his and brought it to his mouth. He kissed the back of it, then tickled her knuckles with his tongue.
With a low noise, she snatched it away.
He gave her a lazy grin as the menus were laid in front of them. Taking his time, he reviewed the food offerings. She didn’t give them a look. “Shall I order for you?” he asked politely.
“God, no,” she said, and opened the folder.
Caleb bit back another smile, knowing he was on the right track with her. No doubt she wanted to maintain control of the situation and of herself. But he thought he needed to force her to release the reins. Only that way could she reclaim the missing stars in her eyes. Meg would never be Starr again and that was fine with him, because he was after the woman she was now, not the girl she’d been—but first she needed to trust that a man could care for her without leaving her unhappy.
She had to let go in order to love again.
That’s what he wanted…her love.
He ordered a full meal, from appetizer to salad to entree and he even said he might leave room for dessert. Meg stared at him, then tossed back the rest of her margarita and fidgeted while waiting for the second she ordered.
“Relax,” he said.
Her green eyes glared at him. “Let me tell you something. ‘Relax’ is the worst word a man can say to a woman. It can put her right out of the mood.”
Her second margarita was delivered and he pushed it closer to her. “You’ll be in the mood.”
The shrimp cocktail he’d requested came on a bed of crushed ice. He dipped one piece of seafood in sauce, then held it to Meg’s mouth. Pressing her lips together, she snatched it from his hand then bit into it with furious relish. “Yikes,” he said, his voice mild. “I hope you’ll be more gentle with me.”
A reluctant smile dug a dimple in her left cheek and he saw a little of her tenseness fade. “You’re trying to make me crazy, aren’t you?”
“I want to,” he admitted. “Because I’m crazy for you back.”
She didn’t fight so hard after that. When he pushed the appetizer to the center of the table, she dug in alongside him. When their salads came, she shared a taste of her field greens and heirloom tomatoes. He offered a forkful of spinach and red onion and she took it with good grace.
They were almost mellow companions as they slowly worked their way through a steak—him—and a serving of grilled swordfish—her. At the end, as the plates were removed, she flopped back against her seat. “Maybe,” she said, sliding him a look from beneath her long, curly lashes, “I’m too full for sex.”
“We’ll have to work off some of the food then,” he answered, and tugged her up by the hand. Bitzer tried to follow, but a soft command settled him back onto the deck. Then Caleb drew Meg away from the railing and toward a parquet dance floor where a few couples were swaying to something slow and sultry.
She tried hanging back. “I don’t dance.”
“What? Why?”
The fingers of her free hand wiggled. “It’s too…”
Yeah, he knew. Personal. Private. Intimate.
To her mind, dangerous.
His chest aching, he pulled her close and pressed his forehead to hers. “I’ve got to learn how your body moves, honey, if I’m going to do my best work.”
“You can learn that in bed.”
But he didn’t want her just in bed.
“C’mon,” she whispered in a seductive tone, her palms traveling up his chest to circle his neck. She laid a kiss on his chin, and then she gave it a little nip. “I’m ready. I’m…wet.”
Caleb’s pulse rate and his dick both shot up. He’d already been semi-hard, and now the lower half of him was screaming for relief. But he gritted his teeth and slid his arms around her waist, then started to sway back and forth. “Look,” he said, twirling her in a small circle, “it’s just this easy.”
But it wasn’t easy to ignore how right she felt against him. He pressed a palm to that sweet curve of her lower spine, bringing her against his hips. She glanced up, a glint in her eyes. “Why Grandma, what a big—”
His kiss took the last word from her mouth. It seemed to settle her a little, and when it was over, she pressed her cheek against his shoulder. The song changed, Steve Goodman crooning the heartbreaker “California Promises,” and they kept dancing.
God, this was good, Caleb thought, stroking her wealth of hair. All those hours he’d spent on his business had meant not enough time for dancing with a woman in his arms.
Though it wouldn’t have been this woman.
Steve’s final guitar note rang out. Meg lifted her head from Caleb’s shoulder to look into his face. “Have you made your point?”
Probably not, but his patience was gone.
He paid the bill. Maybe. The act of it didn’t sink into his consciousness, which was preoccupied with her scent, the feel of her curves under his hands, the absolute carnality of what came next. I’m wet, she’d said.
He should have hauled her off then!
Their arms around each other’s waists, they walked toward his rental. Bitzer ran ahead and ran back, then circled them, clearly happy they were all moving in the same direction.
It was full dark when Caleb unlocked the front door, the porch light casting shadows on Meg’s face. Her eyes were pools of darkness as she hesitated to cross the threshold. “It will be all right,” he whispered to her.
“Of course it will,” she snapped back, then marched briskly into the cottage. Stifling a grin, he followed behind her, noting the smart sway of her hips as she moved toward the bedroom.
The only light came from the half-open door to the attached bath. Meg approached the bed, then, glancing over her shoulder, began to undress with her back to him. Fascinated by her quick movements, he leaned against the doorjamb. “In a hurry?”
Her perfume scented the air as she whipped the T-shirt over her head, displaying the supple line of her spine and the delicate angles of her shoulder blades. Next, her bra fell to the floor with a soft plop. Anxious for her to turn and face him, Caleb felt his breath catch in his chest. Just then, Bitzer’s nose nudged his knee, making him jump a little, and he turned to direct the dog back down the hall. “Sleep,” he told his furry best friend, pointing toward the living room where one doggy mattress waited. There was another in the corner of the bedroom, but now wasn’t the time for canine company.
Bitzer, bless his brilliant heart, took the hint and trotted away. When Caleb turned back, there was a naked woman a foot from him.
Lust burned through his bloodstream like a gasoline fire. He reached for her, fascinated by the sleek expanses of creamy skin. She went into his arms, her body fragrant, her flesh warm, the feel of her breasts against his chest making his balls tighten and his dick go even steelier.
He took her mouth, his hands sliding around her narrow back, then down to her hips, tilting them into his aching stiffness. She moaned, her lips opening so his tongue slid inside. His palm cupped one rounded ass cheek, his fingers kneading the sweet flesh of it.
Crazy for her. Yes. There was no other term for it.
Her hands slid beneath the hem of his shirt, her fingers moving over his belly and his chest. He lifted one arm and gripped the back of his shirt at the neck, breaking the kiss so he could lift it over his head. Then he returned to kissing her, grinding their mouths together, helpless not to, because she was rubbing her breasts against him, going on tiptoe so that her taut nipples brushed his.
He groaned, then held her away so he could look at her breasts, cupping the round weight of one before bending his head to the crest. His tongue licked it first, then he gave in to desire and sucked, sucked it strongly, reveling in the way her fingers bit into his scalp to hold him there.
Yeah, he thought, this was what he wanted. Meg needing him, holding him closer, realizing he had what it took to please her. He moved his mouth to the other nipple, tasting her sweet flesh while his hand toyed with the one he’d already dampened. Her moan was louder as he squeezed the little nub then released it, torturing her with a tiny bite of pain even as he worked the other with a hot yet easy suction.
He took his free hand from her ass, working it around her hip toward heaven. Her belly twitched as his fingertips brushed across the velvet skin there, and she whimpered, a needy, ego-boosting noise. “Shh,” he said against her breast, then ran his tongue around the areola. “I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.”
He should have known it was too soon for sentiments like that. Instead of cooperating with the next step in her seduction, she stepped back, giving herself room to work on the fly of his jeans. “Meg, no,” he protested, groaning, but she pushed his hands away when they tried to manacle her wrists.
“I want to see you,” she said, then dropped to her knees to work his pants and boxers toward his knees.
“Oh, hell,” Caleb said, his head falling back. He knew he should be intent on unraveling her, but with her pretty face at the level of his cock, she had him at her mercy.
The wet slide of her tongue tasting him from crown to balls made him groan again. Her hands cupped his hips and then her tongue was on the move once more, sliding up before she took the head into the hot cavern of her mouth. The top of his skull took off for parts unknown.
She played with him, sucking, sliding, tasting, teasing. One of his hands was curled in a fist, the other found its way into her Rapunzel hair. His fingers were deep in the soft, wavy stuff as she continued ratcheting his need until he was gritting his teeth and writing pieces of Java programming code in his head to keep control.
It was no use. Pulling away, he looked into her face, her lips swollen and wet. “Get on the bed,” he said, his voice guttural. “Get on the bed now.”
Instead of being alarmed by his harsh command, instead of damn doing what he said, she licked her lips and then took him once more into her mouth. Her big eyes stayed trained on his face as she went back to her sensual torment. His breath was stuck in his lungs and he felt the climax rolling up from his heels.
At the very last second, though, he remembered his mission.
This was about her. This was about Caleb making Meg let go.
Gritting his teeth, he wrenched from her, and bent down to pull her up by the arms. Half-hobbled by his clothes, he had to toss her onto the mattress, then step out of them. She was rising up as he reached the bed, but he pushed her back with one hand on her shoulder.
Triumph rose in him as she settled on the mattress. He took advantage of her acquiescence, catching her mouth in an aggressive kiss as he lay down beside her, slinging his thigh over hers. She wiggled a little, testing the bond, and he continued restricting her movement as he slid his tongue deep between her lips.
Her hands came up and he shackled both wrists with the fingers of one of his. “Keep still,” he murmured.
Her hips rose, however, tilting up in blatant request. He tore his mouth from hers and looked down into slumberous eyes.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “You watch what I can do to you.” What nobody else can. What nobody else will ever give you but me.
Then, still clasping her wrists, he slid down her body. Her thighs parted for him, and she made a helpless sound as he used the span of his shoulders to open them wide. His free hand pushed them even farther apart. “Put your heels on the bed, baby,” Caleb coaxed. “You gotta let me in.”
She made a little sound of embarrassed distress, but he ignored it, licking at the seam of flesh in front of him, pushing his tongue into her until the softness bloomed open to reveal all the delicious wetness awaiting him. He lapped at it, studiously avoiding the knot of nerves at the top of her sex, feeling his own desire burn as he felt her skin heat and heard her panting breaths. His mouth moved lower and he licked into her. On either side of his shoulders, her thighs went rigid. So he did it again, sinking his tongue deeper into her slick, smooth channel.
“Oh, God,” Meg said, and then again as he withdrew and flattened his tongue to bathe all the sensitive, aroused flesh.
He continued exploring her, his pulse loud in his ears as he stoked her fire. She was whimpering nonstop now, wordless, sexy pleas that he could live on like food. Glancing up, he saw her watching him, her bottom lip caught between her front teeth. Her gaze snared by his, he lifted his head to slide his first two fingers in his mouth, wetting them with his saliva.
She stilled, tension in every muscle. “Caleb,” she breathed.
Then he brought them to the entrance of her body, speared deep. Her hips bowed. He withdrew, pushed inside her again.
“Caleb.”
Desperate now to assuage the neediness in the one word, he dropped his head, finding the knot of her clitoris. He gave it a glancing lick, then another, then he held it between his teeth and flicked it with the tip of his tongue. Her knees pressed against his shoulders, then she started to shake, and Caleb plunged his fingers deeper yet and sucked her into his mouth with a tender yet insistent rhythm, coaxing out every tremulous pulse.
When she finally quieted, he moved up her body again, pressing kisses to her closed eyelids, her forehead, her mouth. She remained lax and sated for several minutes, one of her hands sifting idly through his hair until he bent his head and gave one soft, pouting nipple a tiny bite.
She jumped, opened an eye.
He smiled. “Shall we sleep a little?”
Even in the dim light he could see a flush rise up her face. “No,” she said, her gaze flicking to her breast. The tip had hardened again, responding to the edge of his teeth. He bent to the other, gave it the same treatment.
“Oh, God.” Meg urged him over her with eager hands. “Come here. Come here, I need this.”
He wanted her to need him, he thought, as he reached into the bedside drawer for a condom, one of those he’d packed in his toiletry kit and then stashed here, just in case. Like a Boy Scout, always prepared. She tried to help him roll it on, but her touch was no aid at all. Wrenching to the side in breathless laughter, he told her to leave this part to him. “You just concentrate on opening for me, baby.” Protection donned, he moved back to her.
Let me have you, Meg.
Let me in.
Holding tight to his control, he carefully watched as he breached her tight heat. She drew in a breath, held it, and he went still, talking her through the first inches of penetration.
“That’s right,” he murmured. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you. I’ll never hurt you.” He pressed deeper, felt her flinch. Again, he halted his progress.
“Caleb…”
“Take your time. Your body will adjust to me, sweetheart. Go soft, honey. You’re so wet, your body’s ready for me. Let your mind catch up to that.” Her muscles were clamped on him like a velvet vice, and he knew she was caught between coiling desire and feminine defense. How could he blame her, when he wanted it all?
He gave a gentle kiss to her mouth, then drew in her bottom lip, sucking it sweetly. “Let down your guard,” he whispered to her, and slid his palms beneath her bottom.
“Please.” There was frustration and desperation in her tone. “I want it, Caleb.”
“Shh shh shh. I know,” he said, tilting her up for a better angle. “Just loosen up and let me in.”
Then she lifted her head, taking his mouth in a torrid kiss. The minute her tongue skimmed his, her inner muscles eased, and he slid straight to the hilt. They both groaned.
His body took over then, enticed by her sleek heat. He surged into her over and over, aware that their breaths were in sync, that he was holding her down to the mattress so that all she could do was writhe against him, pinned by his lunging cock.
It was the hottest sex he’d ever had, until he opened his eyes and looked at Meg’s beautiful face and it hit him again, another heart-smite, and he stopped breathing altogether at the wonder of it all. Could it really be…? But of course it could, because nothing had been like this before, no woman made him feel so much tenderness and lust and crazy certainty that they had to make this happen.
That they had to be together.
“Meg,” he said, but his voice was too gruff for such declarations.
She moaned, wiggling some more, and her inner muscles clenched again, this time in demand. His lust spiked at the feel of her squeezing him and he knew the crisis was at hand. He put his mouth to her neck, compelled to mark her with a tiny bite. She cried out, lifting herself upward and he slid one hand between their bodies, a nudge all that was needed for her to detonate again.
His was a slower explosion. The orgasm shuddered through him, rattling his bones, quivering his muscles, making him spasm in absolute, astonishing pleasure.
When it finally faded, he withdrew from Meg then dropped to the mattress beside her. Rolling his head to look at her, he pushed her hair from her face, then used his thumb to caress the love bite he’d left on her neck.
“You’ll have a bruise,” he told her. At that sign of his possession he felt very primal—and not the least bit politically correct. “Should I say I’m sorry?” Though he wasn’t. Not at all.
She was his, damn it. Forever.
“No worries.” Her smile was sleepy and sweet. “It’s temporary, just like us.”
* * *
Meg realized too late that she should have slipped out after the spectacular sex. By the time she opened her eyes, it was past daybreak, and there was a man sitting on the mattress with a mug of coffee in his hand, watching her.
“Good morning,” she said, meeting his gaze square-on. The sex had been a mutual choice, and she wasn’t going to start feeling shy about her part in it now. Still, she worried about striking just the right note. It had been a one-night stand and she didn’t want to give him the impression she expected anything more than that.
“I think it is a very good morning,” he said, and held out the mug.
With the sheet clutched to her bare chest, she struggled to a sitting position and then claimed the coffee. It smelled delicious and a little like… “Cinnamon?” she asked, sniffing.
“A trick I learned from my sister. You sprinkle it over the grounds before brewing.”
“You really are trying to become domesticated.”
“After my heart surgery I decided I needed a few more dimensions to my life,” Caleb said.
Meg didn’t like thinking of him in a hospital, his chest being opened. She’d kissed him there the night before, right over the scar, just before drifting off to sleep. It was covered now by a simple T-shirt, the pale green color a contrast to the golden tan of his skin. Taking another sip, she noted the newly shaved skin of his face and the shininess of his damp hair. Really, he was ridiculously handsome, she thought, as warmth started pooling in her belly.
Not a good idea. Remember—one-night stand!
“What time is it?” she asked, glancing around for a clock. The overcast sky she could see through the window made it impossible to guess.
“About nine.”
“Nine?” she squeaked and shoved the mug in his direction, preparing to leap from the bed. “I never sleep late. I have things to do—”
“Like what?” he asked, pushing the coffee back into her hands.
“I… well, something. People will be checking in today.”
“What time? How many?”
“Several families. But not until three this afternoon,” she admitted.
“So there’s plenty of time for coffee, breakfast, followed later by the picnic I’ve planned,” Caleb said.
Meg scowled. She should have told him an army was expected by ten! “Caleb…” Thinking back, she replayed the moment on Captain Crow’s deck when she’d offered to sleep with him. Hadn’t she made clear it was a single session she was after, a way to address and then eliminate the almost adolescent fascination she felt for him?
Damn, she realized she’d not been clear after all.
A flush crawled up her neck to her face. “I should have said…it’s not that last night wasn’t nice—”
“From my side of the blankets, it was damn fabulous.”
It was hard not to be pleased about that. “Well, yes, for me, too.”
“Good.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her mouth, the touch gentle and unassuming.
Beneath the sheets, her toes curled. “Still,” she said, rallying her good sense. “I wasn’t supposing, you know…” God, how to say this?
“When I came to the cove I wasn’t supposing anything, either, Meg,” he replied. “So how about we stop concerning ourselves with expectations and just enjoy the day? I’ve become quite good at that.”
Since the surgery, he meant, and the second reference to it quelled her objections. She could have a picnic with him, she supposed. It didn’t mean anything would go further than that.
Another night in his bed wasn’t a foregone conclusion.
But enjoyment—that did seem to be foregone. Caleb had already proved himself a charming companion and that didn’t change as he coaxed her into exploring the cove with him, Bitzer at their heels. They wandered along the hiking paths winding around the hillside behind the cottages, finding evidence of the small creeks that kept the tropical vegetation lush.
She found herself telling him about her great-great-grandparents, Max Sunstrum and Edith Essex. The moviemaker and the ingénue. Their love affair and subsequent marriage were the stuff of legends. “Some accounts say he was so obsessed with her he made her quit acting. He didn’t want her to have any other leading man but him.”
“Isn’t there something about a missing piece of jewelry?” Caleb asked. “Given to Edith by her final co-star?”
They stopped in the shade of a palm tree, and the breeze made a silvery sound through the fronds. “An old Hollywood rumor,” Meg said. “Our family has never really bought into it. It’s purported to be a magnificent choker nicknamed ‘The Collar,’ inspired by the last movie made here, The Egyptian.”
“There’s Cleopatra’s barge and everything in that one, isn’t there?”
Meg glanced over. “You’ve seen it?” At his nod, she smiled. “When we were kids, we wished the barge had survived way more than some dumb necklace.”
“I can’t imagine growing up here,” Caleb said. “It must have felt like being shipwrecked on your own private island.”
“Sometimes,” she admitted. “Especially in the off-season when my sister, my parents and I were often the only ones here.” That’s when their mother would tell her stories about the merpeople and every day had felt enchanted.
After eating the lunch he’d provided—Caleb admitted to stocking up on deli stuff before moving in to his cottage—they continued their walk on the beach, starting at the tide pools on the northern end and strolling along the sand to the southernmost point, right in front of Beach House No. 9.
They paused there, staring up at it. “The numbers on the houses refer not to their geographical location, but to the order in which they were built. My mom always claims this one holds a special charm for lovers, though, just like in the song ‘Love Potion No. 9’.” Meg slanted a look at Caleb. “Sentimental stuff, huh?”
He opened his mouth as if to speak, then shrugged, and bent to pluck something from the firm sand. A clam shell, bone-white with gray rings toward the outer edge. His thumb stroked over the surface. “I bet you collected a thousand of these in your lifetime.”
“Maybe a million,” Meg said. “My sister Skye and I pored over our beach treasures like other kids did trading cards.”
He glanced up. “I remember one particular treasure you had…a piece of abalone shell, I think it was, that you’d strung on a leather thong for Peter. He wore it everywhere.”
“Yes.” Her fingers found Bitzer, and she rubbed his thick coat. That fragment had been part of her collection forever, and one of her prized possessions because it was shaped like a heart. She’d given it to Peter that summer ten years ago, and told him it was just that. Her heart. “He wore it all the time except when he went into the ocean.”
Caleb petted the dog as well, his lean hand caressing Bitzer’s flank. “So you have it then.”
“No. We don’t know what became of it. Maybe that day, that time, he kept it on when he went out…though it was never recovered.” Even when Peter’s body and his kayak had shown up a day later, on a beach five miles south of the cove.
A beat of silence went by, the quiet only filled by the rush of the waves. “I’m sorry if my mentioning that made you unhappy,” Caleb said. He stepped around the dog to pull her close.
Although she knew she shouldn’t, Meg leaned against him. “It’s all right,” she said. “There are those sad memories, but so many happy ones at the cove, too.”
“Tell me,” he urged, taking her hand and turning to direct their walk back up the beach.
And the next thing she knew she was doing just that, mixing up her mother’s merfolk stories with the real-life escapades of the cove kids who had run wild every summer. She laughed out loud, remembering the games they’d invented, the sand abodes they’d built, the miniature popsicle-stick boats they’d launched or the real-life rafts they’d attempted to construct out of driftwood lashed together with rope.
Before she knew it, it was nearing three o’clock and she had to rush to the property management office to meet the newcomers. When her duties were over, she locked up, only to find Caleb and Bitzer on the sand right outside.
The dog sat beside his master. Caleb was staring out to sea, the wind ruffling his hair. Again she couldn’t help but admire the width of his shoulders, the strong muscles of his back that she could see through the thin cotton of his shirt. But it was that calm stillness that attracted her most, she thought, as if the mere act of breathing in air was something to which he gave his utmost attention.
Apparently sensing her presence, he turned his head. “Business done?” he asked, holding out his hand to her.
She went toward him, drawn like a magnet. Once her bottom touched the sand, he drew her close. It was the most natural thing in the world to drop her head to his shoulder.
“What should we do now?” he asked idly.
She should tell him what they should do now was head to their separate lives. But it didn’t seem right to upset the affable mood. So she shrugged.
“We could go for a swim,” Caleb said.
“I don’t go into the water anymore.” She didn’t even gaze upon it. Right now her eyes were focused on the beach. In her peripheral vision she could just glimpse the white foam stretching toward their feet, but that was the closest look she allowed herself.
Caleb drew her more snugly to his side, then sighed. “I guess it’s sex then.”
The words took a moment to sink in. Caught between amusement and exasperation, she turned her head to look at him. “What? Isn’t that a trifle presumptuous?”
“My mother always said that about me.”
Meg laughed, then pushed at him. “You stop.”
He fell to the ground, then pulled her on top of him. “Not gonna.” With a roll, he had her flat on the sand and his weight was on top of her, the effect more thrilling than she cared to admit. “Haven’t you ever heard of afternoon delight?”
“No,” she lied. “And even if I had, I remind you we’re on a public beach.”
His mouth touched her eyebrow, her cheek, her nose. “There’s nobody around.”
“You didn’t even check!” she protested, giggling when his mouth tickled the rim of her ear.
Giggling. The realization stunned her for a moment. When was the last time she’d made such a sound? A little alarmed by it, she twisted from beneath him, squirming away so she could jump to her feet. Then she started sprinting for home.
“Don’t think you’ll get away from me!” he called out.
Her legs churned faster. Bitzer started barking, a joyous sound, and Meg took that to mean Caleb was in hot pursuit. More laughter bubbled up in her throat as she put on the afterburners.
He pounced twelve feet from her front door. When his hands gripped either side of her waist, she shrieked, then felt herself going down. Caleb saved her, though, landing first and then rolling them both to their sides. He grinned at her, and she could feel an answering smile stretch across her face.
“I win,” he crowed.
“And I suppose you’ve already picked out a prize,” she said, trying to look stern and standoffish, even though her pulse was a flurry in her throat and at her wrists. She tried pulling in her smile, pursing her lips in a prudish gesture.
He made a noise—a sort of groan—then swooped close for a kiss. “That mouth of yours is going to do me in,” he said upon coming up for air. “You’ve ruined me for any other lady’s lips.”
Absurdly pleased, she allowed herself to touch him as she wanted, pushing those boyish locks of hair off his forehead. “You’re funny.”
“I’m serious.” His smile died then, as his gaze searched her face. “Meg, where do you see yourself in five years?”
She considered the question, then gave him an honest answer, she who hadn’t wanted to give him anything beyond a one-night stand. “I see myself visiting here. I haven’t been back, you know, not ever, and now I think I’d like to return every once in a while. Maybe more often than that.”
“You don’t want to stay?”
“No. I like where I live. I like my job.”
“Me, too,” Caleb answered. “Though I’m mending the worst of my workaholic ways. Coming here has been very good for cementing in me the notion that there’s more to life than my business. I don’t plan to forget that.”
Meg nodded. “Being at the cove has been good for me, too. I was feeling a little ‘meh’ lately, but I think I have the bounce back in my step.”
Mischief sparked again in his eyes. “Is that what we’re calling it now?” She felt his hand creep under her T-shirt at the small of her back. His forefinger moved in circles and curlicues, some kind of pattern, she thought.
“What are you doing?”
“A game from my childhood,” he answered. “I’m spelling out a word.” His finger moved again. “This is what I want to do to you.”
She sat up in faux outrage. “I know that word!”
He yanked her back down. “You’re going to get it before I’m through.”
They did make it to his house while they were fully clothed. But the garments came flying off once the door was shut behind them. Then they tussled on the bed, laughing and kissing and writing words on each other’s skin with fingers and tongues until there was no teasing left in them and the desire had to be sated through a more serious touch.
They lay on their sides again, and he drew her thigh on top of his as he opened her with his fingers. Then his erection was there, the thick knob of it rubbing against her clitoris, making her gasp, before he began to push inside. One of his hands was curled over her hip, his fingers steadying her as he penetrated.
Hot chills flashed across her flesh as he entered her, the possession so achingly sweet that she moaned. Her breasts were tender, heavy, and the nipples, still wet from his mouth, tightened impossibly more.
“Caleb…” she breathed.
His gaze was on her face as he continued moving into her. “You feel so good. So wet and hot, sticky and sweet, like honey.”
She slid her knee farther up his flank, allowing him further entry. He kept coming inside, heavy and so thick it stung just a little, and the shuddering pleasure of it made an ache of tears start behind her eyes.
When he was seated inside he did the same maddening, wonderful thing he’d done the night before…he didn’t move for long, long moments. She felt full and possessed and needy and desperate and her fingers clutched at his shoulders. She wanted to urge him to move, to insist he start rocking inside her, but this was so good, too, as if they were two interlocking pieces of one whole.
“So right,” she whispered.
And then Caleb smiled, as if she’d uttered the words he’d been waiting to hear. His hips began to move in time with the pulse of the ocean. Meg gasped, the ebb and release a rhythm that she’d been born hearing, that she’d absorbed to her marrow during the first two-thirds of her life. Now she moved, too, the counterpoint second nature to her, as they stared into each other’s eyes and rode each wave toward final bliss.
When it was over, they lay together, still tangled. Caleb stroked her hair, then her cheek. “You said it feels so right.”
Meg felt tension infuse her lax muscles. “I—”
“No.” He put his fingers over her mouth. “It feels right to me, too. You feel right.”
“Caleb, I can’t—”
“I know. Just don’t run on me again, okay?”
“You don’t understand. I thought something was right before.” Panic robbed her lungs of air. “‘Right’ doesn’t always lead to a good place.”
“I understand why you’d think that.” He brushed another soothing hand over her hair. “It’s because you lost something. You lost what belongs right here.” His fingertips touched the center of her chest.
She couldn’t say he was wrong.
“Give me a chance to get it back for you,” he said. “I have two more full days at the cove. Let me spend them with you.”
And Meg, who had woken up that morning with a one-night stand behind her, couldn’t make any promises…but she didn’t refuse Caleb, either.