Caleb

“You’re good,” Roxie tells me when we’re done.

“You’re better.” I lean the Gretsch against my chair. “I didn’t think there was anything more beautiful than my Rickenbacker. It turns out there is—my favorite girl playing my Rickenbacker.”

She laughs and leans back, cradling the guitar as if she can’t bear to let it go. “Your favorite girl,” she repeats, scoffing.

“Roxie,” I tell her, keeping my voice even, “if you don’t stop calling me a liar, I’m going to have to find a way to punish you.”

She stares at me. Clearly, she can’t tell if I’m joking. “Punish me?”

“I’m sure I can think of some form of sexual torture.”

“Torture is supposed to make you stop, not beg for more.” However, her saucy words are at odds with her wide eyes and the pulse racing in her neck. Nobody has spoken to her like this before.

I pick up my glass and take a long swallow of the whiskey, watching her do the same, her puzzled eyes surveying me carefully. I put down the glass, stand, and hold out a hand. She studies it for a second, then places hers into it. I pull her to her feet, pick her up, move back to the sofa, and sit down with her astride me. Then I lie back, so she’s stretching out along me.

“I’m not being insincere,” I tell her, smoothing her hair off her face. “I don’t do that. I always mean what I say. And I’m telling you now that there’s something about you that’s captivated me.”

“I don’t understand,” she whispers. “There’s nothing special about me.”

“Apart from your guitar playing, you mean?”

A ghost of a smile appears on her lips. “Apart from my guitar playing.”

“Roxie, you’re fun, you’re gorgeous, you’re sexy, and you’re kind. I’m beginning to realize how your sassy, in-your-face attitude is a cover. I don’t know what’s happened in your past, and maybe you’ll never tell me, but I can see you’ve been hurt.”

She rests her cheek on my chest. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s your prerogative, but I don’t know what you’re afraid of.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” she whispers.

“But I’d like to know more—that’s what I’m saying.” She doesn’t reply, though, and I sigh. “You said you’ve never been in love.”

“No.”

“Really?”

“Really. And nobody’s ever been in love with me, Caleb. That’s what I mean—I’m nothing special.”

I frown and caress her hair. I can’t believe that no man has ever loved this girl, but then again, she’s only twenty-one. Maybe if, for whatever reason she’s hiding, she’s kept her relationships short, no guy has been able to get close enough to her to fall in love with her.

She turns her head and rests her chin on her arm so she can look at me. “I’m not being provocative. I’m not looking for sympathy or anything. I’m just stating it like it is.”

“It makes me sad,” I say, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She smiles. “You’re an old softie, aren’t you? I bet you like chick flicks and cute puppies.”

“Who doesn’t like cute puppies? Actually, though, a few days ago I would have said I didn’t believe in love.”

Her look turns wry. “And now you’re going to declare you love me?”

“No, because I can imagine the reply you’d give to that. And you’d be right—you can’t love someone after only knowing them for twenty-four hours.” I kiss her. “My mother once told me that when she was pregnant, she thought that she’d somehow be able to knit—that the knowledge came with the pregnancy hormones.”

Roxie chuckles. “I can see that.”

“I felt the same about love. I thought it was the byproduct of being with someone for a certain amount of time. That it came naturally after you’d been together for, say, six months or a year. So I thought I loved Felicity. I assumed that because I’d grown to understand her, it meant I loved her. But now, I don’t think it did.” I stroke down Roxie’s back. “I can see how it might be possible to love a woman like you, though.”

She blinks. She obviously doesn’t have a clue how to reply to that. In fact, a look of something like panic has filled her eyes.

“You don’t have to say anything,” I tell her. “I’m not assuming anything or making any demands. But I like you. I enjoy being with you. And if you’d like to see me again, I’d be very happy about that.”

She looks completely lost for words.

Studying my chest, she traces a finger through the hair there. I can see her processing what I’ve told her, trying to make sense of it. Half of me expects her to get up and leave. She obviously doesn’t want anyone to get close to her.

But she doesn’t. She places her lips on my ribs and kisses me. Then she kisses across to each nipple and touches it with her tongue.

I sigh, and she moves and kisses down my body to my stomach, then follows the line of hair down my belly, where she lifts the elastic over my rapidly growing erection.

She strokes me a few times, watching her hands sliding over the shaft, and brushes over the head with her thumb, spreading the moisture that’s formed there over the tip. Giving me a final, hot glance, she then lowers her head and takes me in her mouth.

I understand. This is her way of saying she’s touched by what I’ve said. She can’t answer me, and she doesn’t want to confide in me yet, but she wants to say thank you, and to tell me she appreciates what I’ve said.

Slowly, she runs her tongue around the head of my erection, and she slides her lips down, taking me deep inside. I slip my hands into her hair and prop my other arm beneath my head so I can watch her, enjoying the view, the sexy sight of me disappearing into her mouth.

I hope she gives what I’ve said some thought. I know my friends don’t understand my fascination with her, and they’d probably say I was crazy. And I can only imagine what my parents would say if they met her. My father’s head would explode.

But I don’t care. I like her. I want to see more of her. I just have to wait to see if she wants to see more of me.

Pleasure is building inside me, and my sigh turns into a groan as she sucks, tugging on the sensitive skin. “I’m going to come,” I murmur, warning her, but she just continues, massaging me with one hand while her tongue works its magic. I let go and give in to the climax, filling her mouth with jet after jet of warm fluid, and I feel her throat constrict as she swallows me down. Jesus, that feels good, and I close my eyes and give myself over to the exquisite pleasure, until I’ve no more left to give.