Page 34 of Until the Storm Breaks (The Midnight Men #1)

CALVIN

I’ve been lying on my bed for the past hour, fully dressed on top of the covers, listening to the rain drum against the roof.

The sound usually calms me, but tonight it just reminds me of water, of wetness, of Maren pressed against the bar.

My mind keeps circling back to the same moment.

Her mouth under mine, the way she said my name like she was drowning.

The knock is so soft I almost miss it under the rain.

When I open the door, she’s completely soaked. Rain runs from her hair down her face, her Black Lantern shirt plastered to her skin. She’s shivering, arms wrapped tight around herself, and she looks like she ran here.

“Hi,” she says, voice small.

“Maren, you’re soaked. Come in.” I pull her inside before I can think better of it.

She steps past me and I close the door, already grabbing a towel from the bathroom. Water drips from her onto the floor, creating small puddles on the wood.

“I want to try this,” she says quickly, before I can offer the towel, before I can say anything.

The words tumble out like she’s afraid if she stops she won’t start again.

“Whatever this is between us. I know it’s complicated and I know there’s no clear answer about what happens after the summer, but I want to try. ”

The words knock the breath out of me. I’d been preparing for her to say we should be smart, keep our distance, forget the kiss happened. Not this. Never this.

“Everything about this is complicated,” I agree, stepping closer, reaching out to brush wet hair from her face. “But when I’m with you, it’s the only thing that makes sense. We don’t have to have all the answers tonight.”

“I know all the reasons this is a bad idea,” she says, voice steadier now.

“Trust me, I’ve been listing them all night.

You have a whole life in Seattle. I might be losing my home.

But when you kissed me today...” She takes a shaky breath.

“I felt more alive than I have in years. Maybe ever. I’ve been making safe choices since I was eighteen.

Just once, I want to choose something that feels right, even if I don’t know how it ends. ”

The way she’s looking at me, fierce and vulnerable at the same time, like she’s terrified but doing it anyway, undoes me completely. She’s choosing this. Choosing us. Despite everything.

“You’re freezing,” I say, noticing water still dripping from her clothes onto my floor.

“Then warm me up.”

The challenge in her voice snaps something inside me.

I pull her against me and crush my mouth to hers.

No buildup. No gentle exploration. Just my tongue sliding against hers and my hands tangling in her wet hair and her body pressed so tight against mine I can feel every curve through her soaked clothes.

She tastes like mint and rain, and when she moans into my mouth, my cock hardens instantly.

She makes this sound, relief mixed with need, and opens for me completely.

Her cold hands slide under my shirt and the contrast of her freezing fingers on my heated skin makes every muscle in my abdomen contract.

But I don’t pull back. I press her against the door hard enough that it rattles, and kiss her harder, deeper, until she’s making these desperate little sounds against my mouth.

When I finally pull back, we’re both panting. She looks thoroughly kissed. Good. I want her marked by me. Want everyone to see it tomorrow.

She pulls my shirt up and over my head in one motion. Her eyes go wide as she takes me in, tracking over my chest, my abs, down to where my cock is already straining against my jeans.

“Jesus,” she breathes, running her hands over my chest. When her hands run lightly up my back, my cock throbs painfully.

I need to get her naked. Now. Her wet shirt clings to her, outlining every curve.

I reach for the hem and peel it up and off.

The wet cotton sticks to her skin, and we have to work together to get it over her head.

When it falls away, revealing perfect handfuls with pink nipples already tight from cold and arousal, my mouth actually waters.

I cup them both, feeling the weight of them in my palms, thumbs brushing over the peaked nipples.

She gasps and arches into my touch, her skin warming under my hands.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I tell her, and I mean it, kissing her hard.

“Calvin,” she gasps when I finally let her breathe, my name broken and perfect on her lips.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” I tell her, pressing my forehead to hers, both of us breathing hard. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

I lower my head and take one nipple into my mouth, sucking hard enough to make her cry out.

She tastes like rain and something sweet, and when I use my teeth gently, she makes this broken sound that goes straight to my cock.

Her hands fly to my hair, nails scraping against my scalp as she holds me there.

I can feel her pulse racing under my tongue.

I switch sides, lavishing the other breast, and she rocks against me, desperate for friction. I can’t stand it another second. I lift her easily, her legs locking around my waist like they were made to fit there, and carry her to the bed. Every grind of her hips against my cock makes me dizzy.

Setting her down, I strip her jeans slowly, dragging the denim down inch by inch. Her thighs tremble, skin still damp from the rain.

“Fuck,” I groan, running my hands up her legs, pausing at the tender spots that make her gasp. Her thighs part automatically, welcoming me in, and when I pull her panties down, they stick for a second to her soaked heat before slipping away.

She’s completely naked on my bed now. In the low light I can see everything.

The dark curls between her legs glistening with arousal.

The way her chest rises and falls with each quick breath.

A tattoo on her ribs, some tiny dark script that curves along the bone.

Before I can focus on it, she’s reaching for my belt.

Her fingers are shaking as she works the buckle open. I help her, shoving my jeans and boxers down in one motion, kicking them aside. My cock springs free, already leaking precum, and her eyes go wide.

“That’s... impressive,” she breathes, her eyes flicking down and back up quickly, cheeks pink.

I lean down, kissing her deeply, then start down her body, trailing my mouth across her breasts, her stomach, until my mouth reaches the soft insides of her thighs.

Her legs quiver against my shoulders, her hands gripping the sheets.

I kiss her there, slow and reverent, breathing her in like she’s already mine.

By the time I spread her thighs wider, I can see every glistening inch of her.

My cock throbs painfully at the sight. I drag my thumbs over her folds, parting her just enough to see the way she’s swollen, flushed, already pulsing for me.

“Damn, Maren,” I groan, almost to myself. “Your pussy is perfect.”

I kiss the inside of one thigh, then the other, inching closer until my breath is hot against her. She whimpers, her hips shifting restlessly.

“Calvin…” Her voice shakes. “You don’t have to.”

My head snaps up, incredulous. “Don’t have to?” I let my gaze drag over her, every slick curve of her pussy glistening under the low light. “Maren, this is all I’ve been dreaming about.”

She swallows, color flooding her cheeks. “I just… most guys haven’t really—”

Before she can finish, I bend down and press a slow, deliberate kiss to her clit. She gasps, her whole body jolting, a raw sound breaking from her throat. I keep her pinned with my hands, grinning against her when her hips try to chase more.

“You want this?” I murmur against her, my thumb teasing at her entrance, circling but not pressing in.

She nods, biting her lip, eyes glassy.

“Not enough,” I rasp, pressing the pad of my finger just to her opening. She’s so hot, so slick, it takes everything not to push inside. “You have to say it.”

Her lips part, but all that comes out is a shaky, “Calvin…”

I dip just the tip of my finger inside her, feel her clench down tight, then pull it back again. “Say it, Maren. Say you want me to make you come.”

Her face is flushed, her chest rising fast, and she trembles as if the words are caught in her throat. I tease her again, circling, dipping shallow, pulling back, until finally she gasps it out, broken and pleading. “I want you to make me come with your mouth. Please.”

The groan that rips from me is guttural. I slide my finger into her, her walls gripping me, then lower my mouth and cover her clit with my lips. I lick hard, deep, like I’ve been starving for this. She moans my name.

Her thighs tense around me but I push them wider, holding her open so I can taste her properly. My tongue circles her clit, flicks, then plunges lower, dipping into her before gliding back up. Every time I give her more, her hips jerk, chasing my mouth, begging for more without words.

Her hands twist in the sheets, then clutch at my hair, not to push me away but to keep me exactly where I am. She’s trembling, panting, whispering my name like a prayer.

I curl my finger inside her, stroking until I find the spot that makes her jolt. Her whole body bucks, and I take the opportunity to suck her clit into my mouth, flicking it with my tongue until she’s gasping, writhing, desperate.

The taste of her is everything—sweet, salty, intoxicating.

I devour her, greedy for every sound, every shiver, every pulse of her body against mine.

She’s falling apart for me already, and I’m not stopping until she breaks completely, until her climax floods over my tongue and ruins her for anyone else.