Page 36 of Play for Power (Central Sparks #3)

like…there is nowhere he would rather be

Rosie

“ P resident Barbie didn’t do it for you tonight?”

“Who?”

“Dark hair, legs for days, a smile that could give a country hope?” I flick a teasing smile over my shoulder as I fix two glasses of water and head for where Caleb has made himself comfortable on the couch, his snorting chuckle his only response.

When I’m seated beside him, the glass of water in his hand, he leans back against the couch and closes his eyes, a heavy sigh leaving his chest. I nudge his knee with mine.

“I’m serious.” I laugh a little, trying to bring his somber mood up.

“She just wasn’t…” He trails off, his eyes looking at the ceiling before his head rolls against the back of the couch and lands on me. He breathes only a moment and then does his best to look anywhere but at me. “I guess, yeah…she wasn’t doing it for me tonight.”

“Well, her loss, my gain.” I flick my hair over my shoulder. “Though I really had only planned to have a bath, wash my hair, and go to bed. I guess I can make an exception.”

“Don’t.” He sighs, placing his glass of water on the coffee table. I turn my head to look at him.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t make an exception. I didn’t come here for sex,” he says quietly, but this time his eyes are looking right at me, the line of his mouth pressed firm, almost like he’s mad, but his eyes are soft, a little conflicted.

“Oh?” I breathe.

“I just…I just…” He runs a frustrated hand down his face.

“You just?”

“I guess I like your company for what it is, Rosebud.” He pulls on a fake smile, though I’m sure it fools a lot of people, it doesn’t fool me.

His response has my brows furrowing. “We said?—”

“I know what we said.” His tone is sharp as he slices a hand in front of him to stop me.

I see the real emotions, the ones he tried to hide a few moments ago, simmering in his eyes.

Exhaustion, loneliness. And pain. “We keep this a secret, right?” he asks, a finger gesturing between us.

I just nod my head as he continues, “So what’s another element to it?

Don’t get me wrong, Rosie, I’ll throw you down on this couch right now and have you begging for me to let you come and I’ll enjoy every single second of the sweet sound of your pleas.

But that isn’t why I came, why I sought you out.

I just want to talk. I just want to hang out…

I want something real right now. Not some hollow fuck. ” He flicks a hand up and I gulp.

Stunned literally speechless, I watch him.

Watch the deep crease of his brow and the firm line of his lips that usually hold a playful grin.

Before I can stop myself, the honest question leaves my lips.

“What would you have done if I’d come home with a date?

” I try to make it playful, but I genuinely need to know the answer. Like I’m holding my breath for it.

He barely moves, giving just a lazy lift of his shoulders, and I watch his eyes scatter between me, the couch, the windows.

Unsure and terrified of the vulnerability he just thrust between us and the spot I’ve placed him in.

“I’d have probably tried to scare him off and still shoot my shot.

” His grin is sheepish, and that breath I was holding leaves my lungs in a soft laugh.

I don’t know why that answer pleases me so much.

He still can’t seem to hold eye contact with me.

It’s like he didn’t mean to say all that he has, but at the same time couldn’t stop himself.

The kind of rush someone gets when they are desperate.

Not in a pathetic way, more like they just can’t contain it anymore, like he’s been living with this need for someone to just see him for so long, I am just the unlucky soul it landed on.

I don’t doubt that he’d be at Noah’s right now if he was in town.

I don’t think it’s pity that has my shoulders sagging; it doesn’t feel like I’m sorry for him when determination firms itself inside me.

When I do the unlikely Rosie thing of burying the snark, the sassy comments, the way I want to tease him and use this against him.

It feels more like…well, like relief, I guess.

I ignore most of that, though, not ready to analyze it and just tell myself I’m doing what any friend would do, and we were friends first, right?

And when this whole using each other for our bodies is over, we’ll be friends once again.

So, I let go of it all and I do the same. I drop the mask, and I’m just me. Rosie.

I thrust my open palm in front of him and stand.

“Huh?” He looks down at my palm, confused, before looking at me then my palm again, and I just chuckle at him, rolling my eyes.

“C’mon, hotshot. I need to wash my hair and put in a treatment. Help me?”

He doesn’t say anything, instead he cautiously reaches out and wraps his big, warm hand around mine and I tug.

He lets me, of course. My five foot two couldn’t pull his over six-foot frame anywhere, so he comes willingly.

And silently, I guide him down the hall, through my bedroom, and into the en suite.

I drop his hand near the doorway and head toward the shower, getting everything I need set up and pulling out a stool.

“You’re welcome to wait in here or out there.

But…” I turn to look at him, suddenly a little anxious and not sure how to do this part.

Talk freely without a mask to hide real thoughts and feelings—things I usually keep just for myself.

But if he did it, it can’t be that hard.

Right? And somehow it’s like I know that he won’t hold it against me.

Won’t judge me or think I’m weak. So, I tell him something real.

“I like your company, too, Caleb.” His shoulders drop as an easy smile spreads across his face and he lowers down to the stool, resting his back against the wall behind him and settling in.

The stool faces the mirror and it’s on the opposite side of the shower, which doesn’t have any glass, so it’s not like he can see me once I’m in.

Not that it would matter if he could, considering we’ve seen each other in all stages of undress, but this feels more… intimate.

I peel my clothes off without a show and without looking at him, letting him look if he wants to but not letting the tension I can feel rising between us get in the way of what this is meant to be…not that I know what that is, I just know that sex isn’t on the table right now.

I take my time in the shower, but before long, he breaks the silence. “What are you doing for the Fourth?” His voice is husky as he coughs to clear his throat.

My immediate reaction is to shut him down, snap at him that it won’t be anything with him, but I work harder to quiet that part of myself, to just answer him, because I think I’m finally starting to understand the more complex parts of Caleb.

“Haven’t worked that out yet. I was talking to the girls about it tonight, they all seem to have plans. Might try and convince Riley to hang. You?” He shuffles on his seat as I scrub through my hair, trying to shampoo without causing knots in my curls that will be harder to get out later.

“Meant to be going home to Chicago to see my dad.” He sighs.

“Meant to be?” I ask, letting a chuckle slip through at the melancholy of his words.

“Yeah. It’s not usually something I look forward to. I bailed last year, and he hasn’t let me live it down.” I don’t rush to fill the silence but let the words sit as I rinse out the shampoo.

“Noah and Addy will be in Chicago, maybe you guys can make a weekend of it and just pop in to see your dad. Not so sad and dramatic that way.” He makes a noise of confirmation, almost like he hadn’t thought of it and I can basically hear his thoughts tick over inside his mind.

I let the silence drip on, letting him have the moment as I massage and comb through the conditioner, scrunching and massaging the ends of my hair before rinsing that too.

After a time, with my body hairless, washed, and my hair smelling fresh and feeling silky, I turn off the water, wrapping a towel around my body and grabbing the cotton towel wrap for my hair.

I scrunch and gently wring out the water as much as I can before rounding the corner.

Caleb remains on the stool, staring up at the ceiling but looking wholly more relaxed than he had only moments ago.

I clear my throat and his head snaps up to look at me.

His eyes trail my body, far more appreciatively than they had earlier, the feel of his admiration warming me from the inside, desire a powerful flower slowly blooming between my legs.

I quickly avert my eyes and head to the bathroom counter, grabbing my treatment and comb.

Before I know what is happening, Caleb is standing behind me, his fingers a gentle caress across my shoulder and down my arm.

I look up to meet his curious eyes in the mirror, warm and wanting, a small uptick of his lips.

He leans down and presses a soft kiss to my shoulder and I have to force myself to take a breath.

This is starting to feel a lot less like friends who fuck and a hell of a lot more like something…

more . I just can’t bring myself to stop it.

His hand grazes my skin ever so gently down the length of my arm to where I hold the comb and he takes it from my hands.

“Show me,” he says quietly, an intimate request that has my defenses blaring a red alarm to ward off the man who is trying his hardest to climb and crumble every wall I’ve built.

His stare is steady and sure, his chest pressed firmly to my back. I can’t help but give in to him.