Page 15 of Mated By Sunrise

“It’s getting late,” he said quietly, his voice a low rumble that she felt as much as heard.

He was giving her an out. A way to keep the distance between them, to go back to their careful routine of boundaries and restraint. Rochelle didn’t want that. Not tonight. Maybe not ever again.

“Come in,” she said, her voice softer than she intended. Then she said more firmly, “Stay.”

Caleb didn’t answer right away. His gaze searched hers as if he were waiting for her to change her mind. When she said nothing more, he looked back at the door.

Rochelle turned to unlock the door, her fingers trembling with the key. Her breath hitched when the keys slipped from her grip, clattering to the ground.

She bent down, but Caleb was faster. He reached for the keys, his hand brushing hers for the briefest moment, sending a jolt of electricity through her. He straightened and unlocked the door with a quiet click before stepping back.

The door creaked open, and Rochelle stepped inside. She turned back to Caleb, who stood on the threshold, his tall frame silhouetted against the moonlight. He didn’t move. Hisexpression was conflicted, the weight of the decision heavy on his brow.

She thought he might leave. But then, with a quiet exhale, Caleb took a step forward, crossing the threshold into her space. The door closed behind him with a soft thud, the lock clicking into place.

The silence that followed felt thick, charged with something neither of them could ignore. Rochelle’s heart pounded as she watched him, feeling the pull of the bond between them stronger than ever. She had never had him this close inside her world. It was as if a barrier had finally broken, letting him in not just physically but emotionally, too.

Caleb stood still in her entryway, his eyes scanning the room with quiet curiosity. Rochelle’s gaze followed his, her heart suddenly fluttering with nerves. She hadn’t thought about it before, but now she wondered—What does my home say about me?

The space was cozy but lived-in. The small living room was filled with mismatched furniture she had collected over the years. Shelves lined one wall. Books filled another, along with candles and a few framed photos. A soft, worn rug covered the wooden floor, and the scent of lavender—her favorite—hung lightly in the air. The room was warm, inviting, but Rochelle couldn’t shake the sudden anxiety twisting in her gut as Caleb took it all in.

His brow was furrowed slightly as he looked around, and for the first time in years, Rochelle felt… exposed. Her home was a reflection of who she was, the part of herself she kept private, separate from her professional life and the carefully guarded image she showed the world. Now with Caleb standing in the middle of it, she felt as though he saw parts of her she hadn’t meant to share.

His gaze finally returned to hers. The uncertainty in his eyes sent a fresh wave of unease through her. She had spent years pushing him away, holding him at a distance even as her heart ached for him. But now, standing here with him so close, the walls she had built felt flimsy, fragile.

Her hand twitched at her side, the urge to reach out to him almost overwhelming. But she hesitated, fear and desire warring inside her.

Rochelle slipped off her coat, then her shoes. Caleb watched her every move. She saw the desire in his eyes, the hunger on his face. His hands balled into fists. She knew he wanted her.

His expression was uncertain, but his words were sure. "We're not having sex."

"Okay."

He didn't look exactly relieved, just resigned.

"But I'm going to masturbate," she said. "You're welcome to stay and watch."

Caleb made a choking sound. His body jerked half toward her, the other half pulling away. He didn't get far. He remained rooted to the spot just inside the foyer.

Rochelle walked to her bedroom. She shed each article of clothing as she went: her skirt, her shirt, her bra, her panties. She reached into her bedside table and took out one of the sex toys Caleb had bought for her over the years.

She knew it had been him. The first vibrator had arrived when she'd gone away for college and he'd been on an assignment. It was the first time they'd missed a full moon. She still had it. She pulled it out now. It was comparable to his length, but not his girth.

Rochelle turned the vibrator on, its hum filling the room with a seductive tension. She climbed onto the bed, spreading her legs wide, and pressed the toy against her pussy.

Caleb had moved. He stood in the doorway of her bedroom, his eyes locked on her with an intensity that made her skin tingle. She moved the vibrator in slow, deliberate circles, her breath growing ragged as she teased herself. She put just the tip in, then pulled it out and rubbed it against her clit again, a soft moan escaping her lips.

"Whenever I use it, I'm always thinking of you," she said, her voice a sultry whisper.

Caleb came into the room then. Rochelle's heart pounded with anticipation as he moved with predatory grace, closing the distance between them. He took the vibrator from her hand, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through her. Without a word, he began using it on her, his movements expert and unhurried. The hum of the toy mixed with the sound of her quickening breaths.

He brought her to the edge again and again, each time pulling back just before she could tumble into the abyss. Rochelle's body arched off the bed. It ached with need, her muscles tensing and releasing in a desperate rhythm. She was begging for release, her words a mixture of pleas and curses, her voice raw with longing.

"Caleb, please," she cried, her hands clutching at the sheets, at his arms, at anything she could reach.

He dipped his head between her thighs. The first touch of his tongue made her gasp. He lapped at her with a slow, deliberate hunger, his hand still working the toy against her. The dual sensations were almost too much to bear. Her back arched higher. Her heels pushed into the mattress. Her toes curled and her hips bucked as she felt herself spiraling out of control.

When she came, she screamed his name, her body convulsing with the force of her orgasm. Every nerve endings sizzled with pleasure as she rode the waves of ecstasy, her mind a white-hot blur.

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