Page 61 of For One Night Only

Only to see Caleb with his fist raised, as if about to knock himself. He’s still wearing the jeans and T-shirt from tonight, along with a sly smirk.

“Hi.” He bites his lip, and my skin tingles with the memory of that perfect mouth on mine.

“Hi.”

Instead of stepping through, he leans against the doorframe, filling the space with languid ease. “Can I come in?”

I cross my arms. “You implied the evening was over.”

“Not at all. Really, I just…” he trails off, the heat in his gaze cooling a bit. “I needed a minute. When you’re next to me, I can barely think straight. I wanted to be sure I was ready for this. Once we cross that line again…we can’t take it back.”

Caleb’s right. Even though my skin is on fire and I’m practically buzzing with the need to worship his body, there’s nothing casual about us sleeping together—nothing about our relationship has ever been casual. It almost feels like we’re picking up right where we left off…or, at least, from the last time things were good between us.

And because of how it all ended, I never could have dreamed we’d get a second chance. I’m ready to grab his hand and jump off the edge.

But Caleb needs to be ready too.

“Do you need us to take a step back?” I ask.

“Well…” Caleb clears his throat and pulls a long strip of condoms out of his pocket, chuckling. “No.”

A surprised laugh escapes from my lips. “Oh.”

“That’s why I came prepared,” he says. Then his face sobers. “But if going slow is whatyouwant, I’ll leave.” He glances down at the foil. “Shit, this is too much.”

Desire rushes down my spine. I lock my gaze onto his. “Not at all. One definitely wouldn’t have been enough, with everything I have in mind.”

“Thank god.”

As I grab him by the shirt and tug him toward me, any last hesitation goes out the window. We collide, leaving fireworks in our wake. Pressing me against the doorframe, he kisses me deeply, his hard edges pressing deliciously into my curves. I press into him, walking him backward in the direction of the bed.

Before we can even reach it, we’ve lost our shoes, his shirt is on the floor, and his fingers are working at the button of my shorts.

And then he pulls back, lips red, pupils blown wide.

“You alright?” I ask, breathless.

He nods. “I may not be sure of a lot of things, but I’m sure about this. I need you, Valerie Quinn.” He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “We don’t have to figure anything else out tonight. But if you’ll let me, I desperately want to make you feel good.”

My skin sparks with anticipation. For tonight, we can just do this. Be Valerie and Caleb. Two people so entwined in each other that nothing else matters.

“I’m going to hold you to it,” I say. And then I draw his mouth to mine.

He kisses me back with tender care and wild abandon, a delicious paradox in every heartbeat. His kisses are soft yet forceful, gentle yet demanding, the heat of fire and the bite of ice, and soon we’re falling onto the impossibly-high-thread-count sheets in a tangle of need.

When his fingers travel back down to my shorts, I arch my back so he can shimmy them off.

“Fuck,” he groans. I’m wearing a maroon lace thong. It’s the color you’re supposed to wear under white according to every stylist I’ve known, but it also makes me feel empowered as fuck, and I needed that boost. “Holy hell, this is better than any of my dirtiest fantasies.”

I bite my lip, overcome by the truth that we’ve both been desperate for this for years. “Is this a good time to tell you I’m not wearing a bra, or…”

“Jesus Christ, Val,” he says. “Why the hell are you still wearing that top, then?”

He climbs up my body, sliding the crop top off my shoulders, freeing my breasts to the cool air of the room. Even through his jeans, I can feel his hard length against the softest parts of me, and I can’t help it—I grind wantonly against him, like I did when wewere desperate teenagers doing our best to keep our clothes on. The friction is good, but it’s not enough.

And he knows it, because he knows me. He knows every sound I make, every whimper. Just like I know by the look in his eyes that he’s barely holding it together. But there’s also amusement there.

He chuckles, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Impatient much?”

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