Page 172 of We Can't Be Friends

“Chloe, it’s like I’m at the altar on Sunday when I’m with you.”

“As it should be.” My eyebrows raise. “I know you said we can’t, but I want to be friends. Best friends. Because you are mine.” It’s clear in my mind, a north star directing me to him. “In so many ways, and I want to be that for you too.”

“You have no idea how much I want that.”

“I think I do.”

My hands dip into the towel, fiddling with fabric before my hand runs over him. I palm him, needing to feel him. My throat goes dry, but I manage to continue.

“Letting me live with you, learning how to make my coffee, taking Tucker on runs. You’ve broken a lot of your rules.” Tugging the fabric where he has it secured on his hip, I glance up at him a silent question passing between us.

“Please, Chloe.”

The towel drops to the floor. Cal’s completely naked in front of me.

I take a step back to look at him. “Wow.” I swallow. “I don’t know if I can call you Pretty Boy anymore. . .”

He’s not just pretty—I already knew that—but wow.

I sink to my knees in front of him. Kissing the tattoos on his right leg, I move to kiss his other thigh. My eyes do a double take to find another one. On his left, higher, where no one could see it, is a bouquet of flowers. I run a finger over the daisies.

“When did you get this?”

“When I was in London.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“I want to hear it.”

“You are the soul that fits mine. Even if I couldn’t have you, I needed a part of you for the rest of my life. I’d be incomplete without you.”

My cheeks warm under his admittance.

I kiss the tattoo. One hand splayed across his abs, the other trailing up his other thigh. I alternate between kissing and licking his warm skin, moving across his body.

Cal wraps my hair in his fists, pulling my head back. His need to control is apparent. Looking up at him I shake my head no.

Taking him into my mouth, hands gripping his waist, I show him exactly how badly I want him. How badly I want to be his. And how he doesn’t have to always be in control.

“Chloe, I’m going to—I need to be inside of you. Now.” Cal pulls me off him, gently yanking my hair up so I stand. He seizes my mouth in a kiss, hands coming to my waist. Then, all over my body.

Walking us backward, my clothes are off my body. His T-shirt I found on my bed earlier, tossed over the lamp on his nightstand, and my lounge shorts on the ground. Naked, I collapse onto the bed. The weight of Cal’s body on top of me is wanted and feels right.

Cal leans on his elbows, shaking his head.

“What?”

“You’re so beautiful. Perfect, Chloe.”

My hips buck, searching for him.

Cal traces my jawline with his pointer finger. Trailing it down my chest and over one of my nipples. “These are in my dreams every night. Since that afternoon at Emerson’s, I haven’t stopped thinking about your perfect tits.” Cal pinches my nipple and I whimper. “Sensitive?”

I nod.

“Tell me. Are they sensitive enough that I could get you off by only playing with them.”

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