Page 73 of My Best Years

It feels impossible to let my hand fall.

Callum’s entire body freezes, and I know that he’s experiencing the same emotions. When my eyes lift to meet his, I find him staring directly down at my hand. Unspoken agony hides behind his hooded lashes, bobbing against the surface of his ocean eyes. My hand rises and falls with the motion of his chest as silence falls between us.

Just as quickly as I reached out to touch him, he flexes his jaw and quickly steps back. My hand drops to my side as he puts a safe amount of space between us.

Without speaking, I can see the war he’s battling in his mind.

He wants to admit how good it feels to touch me again. It’s the closest feeling he has to coming home. And judging by the hunger in his eyes, he might even want to pin me against the wall and slam his lips to mine.

But he also can’t hide his remorse for breaking my heart. Even if I wanted him to seal our lips together and feel the slide of his tongue against mine, he wouldn’t do it until I was ready.

He’s terrified of messing this up. And so am I.

So, I clear my throat and continue our previous conversation.

“And how do you know so much about hell?” My voice comes out low, full of emotion and undeniable lust.

Knots form in my stomach at his next words.

“Because I’ve been living in it for the past eleven years.”

All I can do is nod my head. Because I couldn't relate to that more.

Fifteen minutes later,Callum is standing on a stepstool with his arms lifted above his head, checking one ofthe air vents in the living room. He doesn't really need the stool, given how tall he is, but it does give him a better range of motion.

I’m standing on the floor beside him with his tool bag next to my feet in case he needs anything. My bare toes tap against the floor as I hope and pray that he can get to the bottom of whatever is going on.

As he raises his arms higher, I can’t help but lower my gaze to where the bottom of his shirt rises up.

Maybe I shouldn't be standing so close to him…

My core heats when I catch a glimpse of the golden skin stretching across his lean stomach. I clench my thighs together as I follow the dark patch of hair that sits beneath his belly button and disappears beneath the waistline of his jeans.

Thank God he’s not paying attention to me right now. I can’t control the fluttering of my pulse or how my cheeks heat when I think about what’s hiding beneath his jeans.

I’ve only ever had him once before…and it was fucking mindblowing. I can only imagine how good he must be in bed now.

Just the thought has wetness pooling in my shorts.

At the ripe age of eighteen, he was demanding and vocal in the bedroom. Now, as an experienced man, I know that he would wreck me. He would send me to my ruin.

I’m distracted from my lustful thoughts when Callum lets out a choppy breath. I look up, prepared to hand him a screwdriver or something. But when I see the corner of his lips curve up in a smile, I narrow my eyes in confusion. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down, as if he’s trying his best to hold back a laugh.

His neck turns apple red as he snorts, accidentally letting out a chuckle.

I furrow my brows and shake my head.

“What?” I ask. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s not,” he chuckles, “uh…funny. It’s just…I don’t want to embarrass you. I think it’s cute.”

Am I missing something?

“What the hell are you talking about, Callum?”

He gets down from the stool before stepping into my space. An amused grin stretches across his face as he slides his long fingers up my jaw. My heart flutters when he cups my jaw between his hands.

My eyes threaten to roll back at the feel of his calloused skin against my soft cheeks.

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