Page 20

Rilee

Caleb kisses me like I’m the only thing in the world he wants.

And I think I’ve stopped pretending I don’t want him back.

I push all the noise from my brain, pissing off my brother, Hunter…the fact that I’m moving to California in a few months…

Right now it’s just me. And him. A whole lot of attraction. And this ridiculously adorable blanket fort he built for me .

I run my hands over his shoulders, down the expanse of his chest, memorizing the way his skin feels under my fingertips. I can still taste the popcorn on his lips. Still feel his pulse racing like mine.

“This was really cute,” I murmur against his mouth. “The fort. The snacks. All of it.”

He grins, breath catching. “I was trying to impress you.”

“You did,” I say, kissing him again.

His mouth stills on mine. “Are you sure about this?”

My heart skips. I nod. “Do you have a condom?” I whisper against his lips.

He pauses—just for a second.

“You sure?” he asks, voice low, one hand still curved around my waist, his lips a millimeter from mine.

I nod again. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t want this. I want you. ”

That’s all he needs.

The next kiss is deeper. Hotter. He flips us gently, hovering over me, gaze searching like he’s memorizing every line of my face. I can feel the weight of his erection pressing urgently to my core, but still, he starts slow—kisses across my chest, my stomach as he pulls off my pants and panties.

“Damn…” His voice drops. “Rilee, you’re beautiful.”

I open my mouth to deflect—because compliments always make me squirm—but he kisses me before I can.

Soft. Then deeper.

His hands skim down my sides, tracing the curve of my waist, the dip of my hip. He takes his time, like he wants to earn every sound he pulls from me.

When he shifts lower, his mouth follows—down my stomach, over my ribs, across my skin like a trail he’s determined to map. My breath catches when his mouth settles just below my navel.

He glances up. “Still good?”

I nod. “So good.”

He presses a kiss to my hip.

And then he’s between my thighs, hands firm on my hips, his mouth soft and reverent. I gasp, my back arching, fingers tangling in his hair because holy hell—he’s focused.

His tongue moves in lazy circles, like he could do this all night if I let him. I moan and rock my hips against his face.

He groans into me, grip tightening on my thighs.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs between strokes, voice rough.

It’s more than heat. It’s care.

It’s being wanted in a way that makes my chest ache.

“Tell me what you like,” he says, low and rough.

“You,” I breathe. “Right here.”

He grins, wicked now. “Bossy.”

“You like it.”

“I really do.”

I gasp—because damn , he’s focused. His tongue is deliberate, his hands possessive, and the way he moans when I tangle my fingers in his hair?

Almost enough to undo me right there.

“Caleb…” I gasp.

His hand joins the fun, sliding under one of my ass cheeks, and I feel his thumb stroke over my ass. I shiver just slightly, but he shifts, pushing one hot finger into my pussy while his tongue continues its magic.

“Love the way you lick my clit,” I gasp, right on the edge.

He makes a hungry noise.

Finally… I cry out. A wave of pleasure ricochets through me, pulsing in wave after hot wave of pleasure.

When he finally pulls back, his mouth is swollen, his eyes wild, and my whole body feels boneless.

He climbs up beside me, presses his forehead to mine, both of us breathing hard.

“You good?” he asks, voice a low rasp.

I smile, flushed and buzzing. “I am great.”

He kisses me again—slow and deep.

Then he reaches for the nightstand drawer.

He tears open the condom, gaze locked on mine like he’s making sure I see all of him now.

“You okay?” he asks, even as he rolls it on, hand flexing around himself.

I nod, breathless. “Yeah. You?”

He gives me a look. “Rilee.”

I’m still catching my breath when he positions himself between my legs. His skin is hot against mine, his hands sure now—not soft, not shy.

I feel the shift in him.

The sweetness is still there, but it’s layered now—under something rougher. Hungrier.

And then he’s kissing me again—messier this time. Deeper. One hand braced beside my head, the other sliding under my thigh as he lifts my knee.

I gasp when he presses against me, slow and deliberate.

His voice is low, filthy now. “You want this?”

“Yes,” I whisper, nails digging lightly into his back. “Please.”

“You’re so wet for me,” he groans, rocking forward just enough to make me whimper. “So fucking perfect.”

And then—he pushes in.

My breath catches. His body tenses. And the sound he makes is pure, wrecked pleasure.

“Fuck,” he mutters, dropping his forehead to mine. “You feel incredible.”

I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer.

“More,” I whimper.

His eyes darken.

And then he moves.

It’s everything I never even knew sex could be. Hot. Desperate. Tender.

Caleb moves inside me with slow, deep strokes—each one grounding, deliberate, like he’s trying to memorize the way our bodies fit together.

His breath is hot against my neck, his hand firm around my thigh, pulling me closer like he can’t get deep enough.

I can feel the restraint in him—the tension in his shoulders, the tremble in his arms—as if he’s holding back everything he wants to give me.

“You feel so good,” he whispers, voice ragged. “Like you were made for me.”

I tighten around him, and he groans, low and helpless.

Every roll of his hips sends sparks down my spine. Every word out of his mouth makes me want more.

He reaches between us and begins rubbing my clit again each time he thrusts.

“Yes, yes, yes,” I chant, already building toward another release.

And when it crashes over me—hot, bright, shattering—I bury my face in his neck and hold on.

He follows a breath later, a broken sound in his throat, fingers gripping mine as we fall apart together.

After, we don’t move for a long time.

We just lie there, tangled in sheets and breath, his heart pounding under my cheek.

He kisses my hair. “Now what?”

I smile. “Depends. Are there still snacks?”

He laughs, low and warm, and pulls me closer.

And just like that, the world softens around the edges.

For tonight, at least—I let myself be his.