Page 21 of Fire Island (Fire Island #2)

Twenty

CALLUM

H e would be around twenty.

Twenty fucking years I missed out on. For what? So Ava could marry money?

I see the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

I raise the axe above my head. Sweat trickles down my spine in the heat. We don’t need firewood, but if I don’t smash something, I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.

The axe falls. The wood splinters. The groan that leaves me with the swing takes a tiny piece of hurt with it. I know Evie’s worried about me. The fact that she’s been sitting in the sun pretending to read the same page for an hour gave her away.

But hell, I love her for it.

She’s selfless in all the ways I need her to be right now. And I fully intend to be there for her when she needs me, while praying she never goes through anything like this.

Night and day, Ava and Evie.

My memories of Ava don’t match the woman she is today. I can only assume that is the makings of her parents. Of being a seventeen-year-old girl with a baby. Having her life and plans upended.

But to stay away this long . . .

“Cal?” a soft voice coaxes to my left.

The axe hangs in my hand, my stare fixated on the chopping block. No wonder she’s worried. I’m not exactly handling things well.

Fuck.

“Come inside for a bit?” she says softly.

When I turn to face her, her face is red, flushed from sitting so long in the sun.

Her top is sticking to her skin, sweat beading at her brow and her neck glistening with it.

A bead breaks and runs down between her breasts.

She slips a hand over mine, holding the axe.

I release it to her hold, and she leans it against the block. “Time to cool off.”

She laces her fingers between my own, and I follow as she leads me into the house.

Inside, two glasses with ice sit on the counter. A light snack of chopped crudités and cottage cheese in a small bowl waits.

“Sit.” She drops my hand and reaches for the snacks.

“You don’t have to coddle me, baby. I’m fine.”

Studying my face, she leans on the side of the table after placing the tray between us.

“I—” She angles her head with a wobbly smile. “I just can’t get over this, for you. I can’t process that this is happening to you. I hate it.”

I reach for her, and she steps closer. I push the chair back and tug her between my legs, looking up at her brown eyes, tight with emotion for the man in front of her.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,” I say.

Confused and angry would be two emotions I can identify. But at the same time, I mourned Ava. I said my goodbyes. The lingering hurt for me all revolves around Reese. Or, more accurately, the absence of him. The absence of me in his life.

Replaced by some stranger Ava’s parents no doubt thought was a better alternative.

“Do you want to see him?” Evie asks, palming my face.

“More than anything,” I mutter.

She smiles at me, scrunching her nose. A gesture I know means she is trying to hold back tears.

“Hey, you don’t worry about this old man, baby girl. One day at a time.”

I’ve had my pity party, my meltdown moment, finding out Ava is alive. And the way the sight of me broken wrecked this gorgeous little woman will forever be etched into my memory. My heart.

I will do everything I can to make sure she never endures a drop of that pain ever again.

She nods, but she’s shaking now.

“Hey, come here.” I pull her down onto my lap. Brushing her hair behind her ear, I trace the incredible angles of her face. Sliding the glasses from her nose, I place them on the table. Her eyes dart, studying my expression. I can only imagine what’s going through that brilliant mind of hers.

“What if having Reese in your life means I can’t be?” she finally asks.

I tilt my head, frowning.

I’m lost.

She presses her palms to my chest. “Cal, I’m barely seven years older than your child.” Her chin wobbles.

Right.

She is.

“What if it’s too weird, and you have to choose?” Her hand covers her mouth, and she struggles to hold it together.

I cup her face with my hands, hers falling away. “That is not going to happen. You and me are nonnegotiable. You got it?”

“But—”

I shake my head, jaw feathering. “No buts. This right here, you and me, this is it.”

She groans but nods.

“ Now I feel like an old man.” I chuckle to lighten the mood and her wobbly smile splits as she slaps my shoulder. But she slows, her hand tracing the muscles of my chest.

“You don’t feel like an old man to me...” she breathes.

I drag her mouth down to mine. She opens for me instantly, and I devour her, growing harder by the second. I grip her ass and lift her onto the old table.

This I remember, we have been here before.

“The food,” she protests. I lift the tray and lean over, sliding it onto the counter. Ice water sloshes over the rims of the glasses.

She’s all worked up over nothing.

These clothes have to come off. The sweat-soaked T-shirt comes away easily enough, and I tug at her tiny shorts as she lifts her hips. She lies on the kitchen table in nothing but her pale-blue lacy underwear, and I pause a moment, taking her in.

Fucking perfection.

As pretty as they are, the lacy things are coming off, too.

Spreading her legs, I step between them and lean over, plucking up a sweet, hard nipple in my teeth. Arching, her hands fly to the sides of the table, fingers closing over the edges. I slide a hand around her, releasing the clasp.

She huffs a laugh as the lacy bra leaves her skin, hitting the floor.

The most incredible fucking tits fill my gaze. Christ, she’s magnificent.

She’s mine.

All fucking mine.

“Caileag luachmhor, I couldn’t live without you even if I wanted to.”

“Precious girl,” she whispers.

She knows the phrase. Of course she does. Some of my most sacred memories of her and me are lined with Gaelic phrases my father reserved for my mother. From Henry to Merri. The depth of understanding of what they had hits hard, knowing that’s what Evie and I have.

Now, I truly understand it.

Evie reaches for me, and I come down, hands tracing up her ribs, mouth dusting kisses up from her belly, between her fleshy, addictive mounds, to the space where her neck meets her jaw.

She writhes underneath me already. My rock-hard cock digs into her soaked center. Even through my jeans, I feel it.

So fucking wet.

Panting, she shoves on my shoulders. “Please, Cal. It’s been so long.”

It has. It was before she left since our souls have been tangled together. Since I’ve been buried so deep in this woman it’s impossible to tell where one of us ends and the other starts.

And, fuck me.

Overwhelming need spirals, crashing out my breaths.

Sliding a finger behind the band of her panties, I hold her gaze as I trail them over one hip and then the other. With her pussy bare, I spread those pretty thighs wide.

A growl puffs from between my parted lips.

Evie pants where she lies, as wound up as I am.

She’s dripping wet. My cock aches painfully. The only cure for my madness is the woman spread upon the table before me. Evie sits up, pulling her legs up so her feet rest on the edge of the table. She grabs my T-shirt, pulling me into her space.

My girl, taking what she wants.

A man has never been so fucking proud.

Or so fucking desperate.

I want to touch her. Taste her. Sink balls-deep into this pretty pussy that’s mine. I want to take her rough.

Take her, period.

But after all I’ve put her through, I’m letting her call the shots.

“Lose the clothes, Cal,” Evie pants.

I don’t move, simply letting my gaze burn into hers. A strangled sound escapes when she rips the shirt from my body. Next, her hand pops the button of my jeans, and they are shoved down my legs.

“We’re doing this at your pace.” The words are ash on my tongue, my restraint barely holding.

“I don’t want my pace. I want yours.” Her mouth opens, and she spreads her thighs wider, reaching for me.

Fucking hell.

I sweep her up off the table and onto my hips, my mouth crashing into hers. Her hands are in my hair. I knead her ass as I ascend the stairs to our room.

Our fucking room.

My goddamn woman.

Mine.

Kicking the door shut—for god knows what reason—I slam her into the wall. She moans into my mouth. I break away, nipping her neck as she squirms against the wall, her soaked pussy grinding against my hard stomach.

My throbbing cock is desperate for her sweet, wet heat wrapped around it. I haul in a lungful.

“Cal,” she utters, a whimper stealing the rest of that particular breath.

“Yeah, baby girl.”

“I need—I want to see you.”

I raise my head. “You want to watch us?”

She nods. Her face is flushed, the brown of her eyes so dark you could drown in their depths.

I peel her from the wall and pad to the desk by the window. Depositing her on the cool wooden surface, I give her a little space. She pulls me right back in, opening wide for me. I run a finger down her stomach, stopping shy of her clit.

Capturing my mouth with hers, she whimpers.

I’m an asshole, I know.

Making her wait. Teasing her... Taking my damn time.

Breaking away from her kiss, I drop to my knees. Worshipping this woman the way I fucking should. Her head falls back to the round windowpane as I claim her glistening pussy with my tongue.

Fine fingers find their way into my messy hair.

I sink my tongue through her again, and she bucks on the edge of the desk.

“Cal-lum . . . oh—my god.”

I chuckle, my beard moving against her slick opening. Her breaths peter out.

“Come on baby, that can’t be all it takes,” I say as she trembles.

She’s shaking her head.

No? Yes?

“Words, mo nighean. I know you’ve got them.”

With a strained, raw little sound, she nods. “Mouth, fingers... Please.”

“Good girl.”

I suckle her clit and sink two digits deep inside her, curling them forward. She shoots off the wall, looking down at me with desperate eyes as a mewl pulls from her chest.

Good girl, my love.

Sending my tongue around her clit, I graze it with my teeth before plucking it between them. I wait for a response. And I get one.

“Oh. Hell—fuck.” She tightens around me.

“Come on, baby, ride my fucking face,” I growl out.

Her hips roll as I pump in and out in time to her movements. I suckle down on her clit. She grinds against my mouth as the sweetest little whimpers string out of her. She milks my damn fingers, coming hard.

Arching, she leans her head back. The creamy column of her neck presents itself, and I can’t wait to take a bite.

Fuck. That was incredible.

She’s grabbing for me a moment later, and I slide between her legs, lining my throbbing cock up with her soaked entrance.

Palms cup my face, a thumb brushing my bottom lip. “Slow, sweet man. I want to see every inch of you sink into me.”

Christ.

I grab her hips, hauling her toward me, and do my best to only notch the tip in her swollen lips.

And it almost takes me out at the knees.