Page 97 of Make Out With A Merman

I know exactly what she means because I feel it all day.

“Is it still weird?” She traces my jawline with a finger.

I shake my head. “Just weird everything else got quiet.”

We stay like that for a long while, tangled together, measuring time in contented sighs and marshmallow bribes. Even the wind’s died down outside, and the world feels softer as a result.

Callie shifts, rests her head against my chest, fingers tracing lazy circles on my shoulder.

“We’re good at this,” she says.

“What? Cuddling?” I grin into her hair.

“Quiet,” she clarifies, but grins back. “I mean, notaquiet, but… stillness.”

“Mmm.”

“Used to be I couldn’t sit two minutes in one spot without chasing something to do,” she muses.

“Still can’t,” I tell her. “You were taking apart the kitchen radio last week.”

“Yeah, but I put it back together.”

“With glitter glue.”

“Everything’s better with glitter.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.”

She laughs, low and bright, like it’s bubbling out of her, and I get this weird, unexplainable surge of happiness becauseI made her laugh.

It’s all so mundane and mundane has never been better. We drift into an easy silence, and I listen to her breathing, the fire popping, the comfortable readjusting of two souls who have found their home in each other.

And it’s not that the magic is gone, the lake is still out there, glimmering with its own power but here, with her, it's like we've made our own brand of it. Simple, steady, ours.

The fire's glow casts flickering shadows across Callie's face as she leans in, her eyes reflecting the dancing flames. My hands find the curve of her waist, drawing her closer until there’s no space left between us. Her skin hums under my touch, alive with warmth and anticipation.

“Ryder,” she whispers, her breath hot against my lips, “you promised me we’d make love by the fire.”

I grin, my fingers trailing up her spine. “Did I now?”

“Yes, you did.” She nips at my lower lip, teasing. “Not that I need reminding, but I think your exact words were”

“I think,” I interrupt, claiming her mouth with a kiss so deep it makes my tail twitch, “we can skip the preamble, don’t you?”

But Callie’s always been one for banter. She pulls back, eyes sparking with mischief. “Preamble? Who are you, the U.S. Constitution?”

“No,” I growl, biting at her neck. “I’m the guy who’s about to worship you by firelight.”

“Oh,areyou?” She arches against me, that maddening smile still in place. “And here I thought you were just a lifeguard with a fish tail.”

My hand slips under her shirt, and the little gasp she gives is all the satisfaction I need. “Shut up, Callie.”

“Make me,” she dares, breathless.

Challenge accepted.

Our clothes don’t last long after that. The room is warm, but not as warm as the heat building between us. I take my time, exploring every inch of her freckled skin, committing the feel of her to memory. The way her breath hitches when I kiss a particular spot, the way she shivers when my fingers skim her ribs.

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