Page 102 of All of Me

“Sorry, Dollface,” I murmur against her neck, pressing a kiss just below her ear. “Couldn’t help myself.”

Callie turns in my arms, her hands finding my chest. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Only for you,” I say, my fingers trailing down her sides. “And you love it.”

Her lips curve into a slow, radiant smile, the kind that knocks the air from my lungs. “I do. So much.”

The words hit me like a wave, and I lean down to kiss her. Her lips are soft, her fingers curling into my shirt as she presses closer. Everything about her—the way she smells like vanilla and coffee, the quiet sigh she lets out against my mouth—pulls me under, and I don’t want to come up for air.

When we finally break apart, she’s breathless, her cheeks flushed. “I really should finish closing up,” she says, but her hands don’t move from my chest.

“Or,” I say, sliding my hands to her hips and pulling her closer, “you could let me distract you a little longer.”

She hesitates for half a second before pulling me deeper into the back room. Her arms make their way around my neck as I lift her onto the counter, her legs wrapping around my waist. She’s everywhere—her warmth, her scent, the way her lips move against mine.

“I can’t wait to call you my wife,” I whisper against her lips, my voice low and raw.

Her breath hitches, and she looks at me like I’ve just hung the stars for her. “Say it again,” she murmurs.

“My wife,” I repeat, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “I can’t wait.”

She smiles, and I forget everything but her. “I can’t wait either,” she whispers, her voice trembling with emotion. “You have no idea how much I love you, Owen.”

My forehead rests against hers as I let the moment settle around us, the noise of the coffee shop and the world outside fading to nothing. “I do, Callie,” I say, my voice steady. “Because I love you more than I ever thought possible.”

Her fingers grip the back of my neck, holding me close, and as I kiss her again, I know this—this life we’re building, this woman in my arms—is all I’ll ever need.

The heat between us hums like a live wire, sparking through every point where our bodies touch. I press another kiss to her lips, then her jaw, trailing lower until I reach the soft spot just beneath her ear. She shivers, her nails digging in slightly as I let my hands roam over her hips, her waist—memorizing every curve, every dip that’s mine to worship.

“You locked the door, right?” I murmur against her skin, my voice rough with want.

She nods, her breath coming in short, uneven pulls. “Deadbolt and everything.”

“Good,” I say, hands slipping beneath the hem of her shirt, fingers grazing the soft skin of her back. “Means I’ve got you all to myself for a little while.”

She arches into my touch, her body warm, pliant, inviting. “And what exactly do you plan to do with me, Mr. Klein?”

I grin, loving the way her voice turns teasing, breathless. “Oh, Dollface,” I whisper, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “I think you already know.”

Her fingers trail down my chest, toying with the buttons of my shirt before she tugs at the fabric, pulling me closer. “Maybe you should show me,” she challenges, her voice dipped in something sweet and sultry.

I don’t need to be told twice.

My hands move with purpose, sliding up her thighs as I step between them, feeling the way she trembles under my touch. She grips my shoulders, steadying herself as I tilt her chin up, my lips claiming hers in a slow, deep kiss that sends a rush of fire through my veins.

The world outside this coffee shop doesn’t exist—not when she sighs against my mouth, not when her hands wander beneath my shirt, nails grazing my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

I trail kisses down the column of her throat, tasting the faint hint of coffee and vanilla that clings to her skin. Her head tilts back, offering me more, and I take it, savoring every soft gasp, every little whimper that slips past her lips.

Her hands slide up my shoulders, gripping firmly as I let my hands explore, slipping beneath her apron, pulling her flush against me. The counter beneath her creaks slightly as she shifts, pressing even closer, and I groan at the delicious friction.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” I murmur against her skin.

She exhales a shaky laugh, her fingers tracing the lines of my jaw. “I have a pretty good idea,” she whispers, voice thick with want.

I chuckle, the sound low and rough as I lift her slightly, pressing her deeper into me. “We should stop,” I say, though my hands show no sign of obeying my words.

She hums, tilting her head so our lips are barely a breath apart. “Do you want to?”

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