Page 109 of For One Night Only

“Caleb,” I gasp.

“Val,” he says against my lips, barely more than a whisper.

I pull back. “We need to talk about the details. There are so many things to work out. I don’t want…”

He blinks, drawing away. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. But if it’s okay with you, I think you should let me take your clothes off first. We can talk about the details after, while we eat takeout, because we’ll be too exhausted to cook when I’m done with you.”

Desire snaps through my veins like static. “Is that a promise?”

“Absolutely.” His eyes rove over me. “Nice shirt, by the way.”

I grin at him. “I stole it from the love of my life.”

“Looks better on you.”

“Good. I’m keeping it.”

His hands tighten on my hips. “As long as I can take it off of you right now.”

“I’m counting on it.”

And then we’re kissing again. My knees go weak as he brushes his lips down my jaw to my neck, my shoulder, and I sink to the edge of the couch with a shudder. He kneels down, kissing my breasts right through my shirt—just the hint of heat through the fabric has me writhing for more. With the help of his deft fingers, my top is soon off. He wastes no time sucking on one nipple, toying with the other with those soft, guitar-string-calloused fingers.

The touch sends a spiral of heat between my legs.

“I need you to touch me,” I gasp.

He pulls away. “I am touching you.”

“Caleb,” I whine.

He laughs but reaches his hands around to support each of my thighs. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his waist, and he hoists me up so we can keep kissing without breaking apart. He takes afew steps to the side, then presses me deliciously into the nearby wall. Our hips meet, and I grind against him, sliding against his length despite the fabric between us.

“Fuck, Valerie,” he groans, leaning his forehead against mine. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to come in my pants.”

“Get it together, Sloane,” I say, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. “You promised to tire me out.”

“Oh, I didn’t forget,” he says. “You just need to behave.”

“Fine.” I stop grinding.

He chuckles. “Good girl. Bedroom?”

“Back there,” I say, nodding toward the hall. Without missing a beat, he carries me back to my bedroom, where, fortunately, my bed is made with fresh linens that smell like orange blossoms. Caleb sets me down gently on the mattress, then sinks down on top of me, hovering over my body.

“It’s your laundry,” he says, eyes widening.

“What?” I ask.

“Thatscent,” he says. “I knew what the shampoo was, but that citrus has been destroying me all summer.”

I laugh. “I could buy you the detergent I use. It’s gentle on the environment.”

“I don’t want to smell like you unless we’re sharing a bed,” he says.

“Are you inviting yourself to move in with me, Sloane? That’s a big step.”

He flushes. “That’s not what…I meant…”

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