Page 23 of Fire Island (Fire Island #2)

Twenty-Two

CALLUM

W ell, this is fucking cozy . . .

Iris is squished between Em and me on the new sofa. Evie is at my right, legs crossed as she leans into my side. The opening credits roll, and the girls settle in. Em throws me a helpless look as Titanic starts up.

You have to be kidding me.

Nobody moves.

Evie is shaking beside me. Em slides a hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking.

“Very fucking funny,” I grunt out.

Iris cracks up. “Too soon?”

She points the remote at the television and the screen flips back to the Netflix menu.

“Pick something good, Irry, or I’m pulling out the board games.”

“Good lord, Cal, not that slow, mundane torture, please.”

My little sister has always done everything at a hundred miles an hour. No wonder what most people think of as fun or relaxing only serves to drive her insane.

“Well, choose wisely.” I raise my eyebrows at her.

“Fine.”

She scrolls through the options until we find something we all like. And like the old man I am, I groan as I lie on the sofa and hug Evie closer.

“Oh, the popcorn!” Iris jumps up, jostling Em and I. “Be right back.”

“Whose idea was the sofa?” I ask Em when she’s out of earshot.

He chuckles. “All Iris. She’s wanting to spend more time enjoying life instead of slaving away at the café every waking hour. Something positive to come out of your accident, Cal.”

I’m impressed.

By my little sister. By the way Em has her back. I’m guessing he’s the muscle she called to install the sofa. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised—he’s always been there for us.

“Is the television bigger, or is that just my eyes?” Evie notes.

“Now that one was my idea.” Emmett smiles.

“Nice one, bud,” I say, and Evie snuggles in closer again, tucking her legs underneath her. Iris returns with two bowls of popcorn, handing one to me. She drops back into her spot beside me and places the bowl on her left leg so Em can reach.

I mean, we’re in pretty close quarters, so that’s a nonissue.

The movie plays, and Evie softens into my side. I glance down to see her sound asleep. We had a big day. Chores out in the sunshine, and she spent even longer writing. No wonder she’s wiped out. I turn back to the movie, only to catch a glimpse of Em’s arm sliding around Irry’s shoulders.

She leans her head on his arm briefly, as if letting him know she knows he’s there, then rights herself and shovels more popcorn into her face.

As the end credits roll, I move slowly to my feet and scoop Evie into my arms.

“Night, Cal,” Em says softly.

“Night.” I turn to move but hesitate when I see Iris asleep against his side. “You want me to come back for Irry, too?”

“Nah, I got her.”

We stay locked in the quiet moment, brother and friend hovering. Finally, I simply nod and carry Evie upstairs.

What’s the deal with Iris and Emmett? Evie asked me once before.

Em wouldn’t, would he?

We’ve been friends for decades. He’s known Iris as long as he’s known me. If he was going to make a move, wouldn’t he have done it by now? And I would have had to rectify that stupid train of thought.

Iris isn’t someone to be taken lightly.

She’s a strong woman. All storm, no rainbows some days.

I doubt our friendship dynamic will ever change.

Padding into the spare room, I walk to the bed, leaning to one side to pull back the covers as I hold Evie in my arms. I place her on the bed, and she rolls over, curling up.

“You want those jeans off, baby?” I say.

“Hmmm.”

I release the button and remove the jeans, one elegant leg after the other.

She mumbles something and curls back, hugging the pillow as I cover her up with the blanket.

Brushing her hair from her face, I sit on the bed and tug my shirt from my back.

Stripping down to my boxers, I cross the room to put our clothes on the chair by the door.

On my way back, I glance out the window. Something on the street below glints in the dim light of the crescent moon. Chrome.

Curved.

A motorbike. One of those cheap knockoffs of a Harley-Davidson idles outside Iris’s.

I lean on the wall by the window and wait to see what the guy does next.

No helmet, a battered old cap covering his shaggy dark hair.

After a few minutes pass, he pulls his cap down and shoots away from the curb, opening her up on the quiet, small-town cobbled street.

As he rounds the block and rides out of sight, my gut flips.

Who the hell was that?

I wake up to an ass pressed against my groin.

Déjà vu.

Or... typical Evie, hunting my warmth the way she always does in her sleep. With a growing boner from her simplest touch, I tug her closer. Sweeping the hair from the back of her neck, I dust kisses up her neck to the tender spot below her ear.

She moans, wriggling in her sleep.

And fuck, if that doesn’t turn my cock to concrete...

“Wake up, baby girl.”

“Mhmmm. I’m awake.”

She wriggles her ass into my groin to prove her point.

That’s all it takes to snap my control. I toss the blanket off and flatten her to her stomach.

Straddling her, I rake her hair into a rough fistful, turning her head round.

I want to see those stunning browns as I spread her and sink into this pussy.

I tug her panties to one side and run my finger over her glistening entrance. She cants her ass up to me, begging.

“You want more, mo ghràdh?”

“So much. Please, Cal.”

“Keep begging and you’ll get it.”

She smiles up at me. But it’s not a pleasant smile. More like a woman who knows where she has her man, safe in the knowledge she put him there.

Fuck me.

I slap her ass hard, punishment for her cheek. A soft whimper tumbles through parted lips.

Christ.

I rip her panties at the seam and toss them behind me. Losing my boxers, I fist my cock. The throb all but drives me over the edge.

Evie spreads her legs wide, her knees digging into the bed. She pants, chest pressed into the blankets. Her perfect damn pussy waits for me. Reaffirming my hold on her hair, I nudge the tip into her soaked center.

“Oh, fuck.” Her face breaks.

I know, baby girl. I know.

The mirth that lined her expression is long gone, replaced by desperation, a need burning too hot as her body starts to tremble and I sink in slowly. Inch by heavenly inch. Watching her come undone in one goddamn stroke.

“Good girl,” I offer as I seat myself fully into her tight center.

“Cal, don’t move. Please.”

She tightens around me as she groans into the pillow. The muffled sound does something to me. All I can think of is her wrapped around me, her delicious nipples in my mouth as she rides me, us, to oblivion. With a harsh slap to her ass, I pull out.

Her whimper is tainted by incredulous disbelief. “No.”

I settle over my heels and wait for her to come to me. She looks back to find me watching her and rises, turning about on all fours. She crawls across the bed to me.

Those perfect tits bouncing with every movement.

My mouth waters.

I close my eyes, shaking my head.

Hell.

Fine hands find my jaw, pushing through my short beard as she straddles me. “You want me here, sweet man?”

“Fuck, baby girl, I want you every-damn-where.”

“Good to know.”

I open my eyes as she clamps my lip through her teeth before releasing it. “Mine.” The word is no more than a whisper. Her hips roll. My cock throbs with an ache only she can cure.

“Rough or slow, Evie baby.”

“Slow, really slow.”

She rolls her hips again, and I groan into her neck before nipping my way down. As if she needs my mouth on her as much as I do, she leans back a little, arching up. My tongue swirls around one hard nipple, and she pants out little breaths that squeeze my heart tight.

“God, I love that,” she whispers.

I bite down, and she jolts on my lap, her pussy rubbing along my cock in one firm, delicious movement.

“Ah fuck, baby,” I mumble against her breast.

“Do it again, please . . .”

The fucking beg on this woman.

Christ .

“Say it again,” I rasp.

“Please, Cal. Please do it again.”

With a harsh suck to the nipple in my mouth, I let it pop from my lips and move to the next one. Swirling my tongue around her dusky peak, I cup the other with a hand, my thumb drifting over the point. I bite down a little harder than last time, and she rocks on my lap with a cry.

I suck the sting away and she takes up a grinding motion, her hands hunting through my hair.

“Fuck, you keep doing that... this is as far as we’ll get.”

“God, I can’t stop.”

Raising my head, I crash my mouth to hers. She’s starving. Lifting her a little, I line the tip of my cock with her entrance. So much for slow. Neither of us are capable of that right now.

“More, please.”

I slam her hips down, filling her completely in one thrust.

She tightens around me before I have a chance to move. I take her face in my hands, guiding her gaze to mine. “Slow, baby, slow.”

“Watch,” she pants.

I nod.

Rising so goddamn slow that I feel every glorious inch of her, she hovers at my tip, lips parted, waiting.

“Tell me,” I rasp.

“Mouth, hands.”

I sink my mouth over her nipple, a finger tracing down her belly before sweeping over her clit. The sound leaving her lips when she sinks down is something I will never forget. The wrecked form of her beautiful face will never leave my mind. Ever again.

This is who I am.

I’m hers. I was a man alone on his island. A lighthouse keeper with a solitary existence. Now, I’m whatever the fuck she wants me to be.

And . . .

She’s mine.

Like I said, nonnegotiable .