Page 46 of Shameless With Him

“It was a cab, and I wasn’t going to let him.”

“You’d better not fucking blame yourself for it.”

“I don’t. Not really.”

“The phrase not really doesn’t actually help me believe that.”

I shrugged. “I’m getting better. I have a therapist for that.”

“Good.”

His thumb was still on my face, tracing circles.

“Let’s get back to you not thinking of me as a sister.”

“You’re not my sister. Not even close. Because if you were, I wouldn’t do this.” Then he lowered his head to mine, and I let out a shuddering breath, wanting more, wanting his taste. I sighed deeply, leaning into him as he parted my lips with his tongue. He deepened the kiss, angling my head just a bit, adding a slow caress.

I sank into him, wanting more, needing more. His hands slid over my hair and down my back, tugging me closer. He pulled away suddenly, both of us catching our breath, and I met his gaze.

“Are we not talking?” I asked, afraid of what would happen next. Because I needed to know what he was going to say. But I was afraid. So afraid that I would be like the dozens of women who were made to feel good, always respected, but then never heard from him again.

“I know I should stop kissing you, but I don’t want to. You need to tell me what you want.”

“I like kissing you. I want to keep kissing you. Only I don’t want to ruin everything.” That was as honest as I could get because I couldn’t tell him more. Couldn’t say that I wanted him. That I always had. That he’d had a special place in my heart for as long as I could remember, even though he shouldn’t have.

“Then we just keep doing this. We don’t let it hurt. Don’t let it mess everything up.”

I met his gaze and wondered what I was missing. He sounded different. Not cruel, but perhaps worried. Why would he be worried? Even as I thought that, I let those thoughts slip from my mind and leaned forward to kiss him again.

This could be a part of my plan. To be with him. I didn’t need a happily ever after, but I didn’t know what life would be like without my mouth on his. Without his touch, his taste.

I can make this work, I told myself. I could.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered.

“Then don’t,” I said honestly.

He tucked my hair behind my ears and then nodded before kissing me again.

The kiss started off soft, sweet, a bare touch of the lips, a gentle swipe of the tongue. And then he kept going, moaning.

He lowered me to my back, and I ran my hands up and down his arms, wanting more. He hovered over me, careful not to put all his weight on me, and I couldn’t help but find that sweet. Even as it was sexy as hell. He didn’t want to hurt me.

“Tell me when to stop,” he whispered.

“Don’t stop.”

He met my gaze then, and I tried to look as confident as I sounded. He must have seen something there, though, because he kissed me again, his hands roaming.

When he slid his hand between us, cupping me over my leggings, I groaned, arching into him. He smiled against my lips, still kissing, still touching.

I wanted more, and I wasn’t going to get it on this couch, not when it was so difficult to reach him.

“Caleb, I can’t touch you. Not here.”

He seemed to understand my unintelligible words because suddenly he was sitting, and I was on his lap, straddling him, my hands in his hair as I kissed him hard, his hands on my ass. He molded, squeezed, and I arched against him, rubbing myself along his jean-clad erection.

“You keep doing that, I’m going to come in my pants,” he groaned, pulling at my hair.

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