Page 8 of Cautious

Her little moans are driving me insane. I pull back as I’m two seconds away from fucking her up against the wall.

“What the heck?” she murmurs, her lust-filled eyes searching mine.

“Now you won’t have to worry about the kiss goodnight after our date. I thought it would be easier if we got it out of the way,” I joke, not wanting her to know that I lost control.

“Out of the way?” she parrots.

“Yeah, out of the way,” I tease, unable to resist another soft press against her lips.Definitely sweet tea and cherry Chapstick.

“I’m still nervous,” she whispers, making me pull back and look at her.

“You are?” Shit, I don’t want her to be nervous.

“Yeah, there’s a lot of pressure to get the first kiss right. We should practice so when we have our first kiss, we knock it out of the park.”

I laugh, pressing into her. I’m careful to keep my hips away from hers so I don’t freak her out by showing her how hard I am.

“You realize that thisisour first kiss, right?”

“No, this doesn’t count. This is just for practice, like pre-kissing,” she says with a smile. The smartass.

“Pre-kissing, huh? Are there rules for pre-kissing?” I question, already wondering how I can use this to my advantage.

“Nope, that’s the beauty of pre-kissing. There is no pressure and no expectations. Like I said, it’s just practicing.” She shrugs, looking pretty proud of herself.

“Interesting. I’ve never heard of this pre-kissing before, but I can understand the merits of it.” I wonder if she’ll let me pre-kiss her anywhere else.

Dipping my head, I place a kiss on her jaw, then move my thumb over the spot I kissed. Tilting her head back, I place another kiss just below her ear, dragging in a lungful of her strawberry-scented shampoo. Whispering softly, I trail kisses down her neck to her shoulder, then use my fingers to slide the strap of her tank top down her arm. I continue to rain kisses along her collarbone, marveling at the softness of her skin. When I feel her trembling, I slide the strap back into place and kiss the tip of her nose.

“Oh yeah, I can definitely see the merits,” I growl against her lips.

“You’re dangerous, Mr. Bundy.”

I chuckle as I pull away and force my body out the still-open door. Turning to face her once I’ve cleared the bottom step, I grin unrepentantly when I see her still looking flustered. At least I know she wants me as much as I want her.

“Lock up, Callie.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Bundy,” she replies with a salute.

“Not a serial killer,” I remind her as I head back to my truck with a smile on my face.

“That’s exactly what a serial killer would say.”

Callie

After deciding to leave the car at home today, I set out on foot to take in all the sights and sounds of my new home.

When I left the city, it was easier to run away from somewhere than run toward it, so I deliberately took the scenic route. I stayed in hotels and motels and spent the time getting comfortable in my own skin once more. My job helped with that. There is a sort of empowerment that comes from testing out products made mostly by women, with women in mind. It didn’t stop me looking over my shoulder, but it did help me shore up my defenses. I might be down, but I’m not out yet.

Thoughts of the troubles I ran from inevitably made me want to drown my sorrows with alcohol. Though I’m not a huge drinker, being drunk in a bathtub is better than numbing my pain with nameless faces or a handful of pills.

I pick up my pace as I walk down the picturesque street that looks like something out of a brochure advertising small-town living. Most of the houses I’ve passed look like human-sized versions of dollhouses, all decorated in pretty colors with neat lawns and flower-filled borders or white picket fences.

The houses gave way to businesses once I hit the main street that runs through the town. A small town this might be, but it’snot tiny and has more than enough amenities to keep the locals happy and draw in a boatload of tourists.

I pass a quaint cafe, a bookstore, a florist, and a post office before the convenience store comes into view. I hurry along, smiling at a man and an older couple who greet me with a friendly hello as I pass before I step through the automatic doors. It doesn’t take long to find what I’m looking for, but now that I’ve made the decision to have a drink, I can’t decidewhatto drink.

“Vodka or tequila?” I mutter as I stand in the middle of two rows of alcohol.

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