Page 33 of The Trouble With Spells
He shook his head, the movement causing a soft sandy colored lock to fall over his forehead. “You don’t feel like a stranger, Callum.”
Fuck, the way the man said my name melted my insides like hot lava. Most people rushed all the syllables together, and it usually sounded like Cal-um. But when Michael said my name, it was always sexy and drawn out, like he didn’t want to rush it.
“I feel like I’ve known you my entire life,” he continued softly, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight, filled with a heat that hadn’t been there a minute ago. “I feel like when you look at me, you see me. The real me. The man I could be. That you don’t see the successful attorney, or the expensive condo, or the old Salem money I come from. You look at me and you just see Michael. And it feels really, really good.”
Palming his cheek, I ran my hand down his jaw, feeling his evening stubble scrape lightly against my skin. Need and desire raced through my body with a force so hard my limbs shook.
“Michael?”
“Yes, Callum?” My dick jerked at my name on his lips, soft, drawn out, and oh so sexy.
“I need you to kiss me now.”
His brows rose, a smile tugging at his lips. “Right now?”
“Right fucking now.”
The first touch of his lips on mine wasn’t like I ever imagined a kiss with him would be. In my teenage wet dreams, his lips were strong, a little forceful, demanding.
The reality was a soft brushing of lips over mine, a gentle tease, the barest of caresses that managed to sear my very soul like no kiss had ever done. There was no tongue, no demand for entrance or to be let in. It was just enough for us to each get a taste of what was to come.
He pulled back after a minute, his eyes soft and full of wonder, his smile mischievous.
“I don’t put out on the first date, Mr. Turner,” Michael told me primly. “Go to sleep.”
He turned me in his arms with a quickness and ease that was frankly startling, and once again I found myself the little spoon to his big. Cocooned in the warmth of his arms and legs wrapped tightly around me, his warm breath ghosting the back of my neck as he settled himself, all of our parts fitting perfectly together.
Surprisingly, sleep came quickly, my lips still tingling from the sweetest, yet somehow hottest, first kiss I’d ever had.
The reality of kissing Michael Endicott was so, so much better than anything any of my silly high school fantasies had ever dreamed up.
So. Much. Better.
Chapter Fifteen
Michael
“I can’t believe I’m meeting the parents,” Callum muttered, peering out the passenger window with wide eyes, like this was the first time he’d seen our hometown. “Your parents. Well, your dad, I guess. I’ve never met anyone’s parents before.”
Slowing on the tree lined historic street, I looked for an open parking spot, hopefully not too far down from my parents’ house. Finding one, I expertly parallel parked my BMW, turning the ignition off and facing Callum.
He was nervously chewing on the skin around his thumbnail, and without a second thought I reached over and gently pulled the digit away from his teeth. “It’s going to be fine. You don’t need to be nervous.”
“I told your mom we were dating,” Callum chewed on his bottom lip nervously, instead of his thumb, “we’ve barely been on one date. We’ve known each other two days, Michael. Two days! We know next to nothing about each other. What if they ask questions? They’re going to ask questions. I feel like I’m about to take a test I didn’t study for.”
Laughing at his panic, I told him, “You’re overthinking this. It’s not that big a deal.”
Callum stared at me, his green eyes big through the lenses of his glasses, not looking the least bit appeased. “It’s your parents, Michael. This is a big deal.”
“It’s not really. We just need to act like we’ve been dating for a while to justify why I’m staying at your place. And why I’m even in Salem.”
Callum still looked unconvinced. Crossing his arms over his chest, he pursed his lips. “How many people have you taken home to meet your parents?”
Licking suddenly dry lips, I rested my head against the headrest and stared up at the roof of the car. “Not counting high school?”
“Counting everyone you’ve ever dated. How many? Give me a rough guesstimate.”
Pretending to think about the answer for a minute, I finally admitted, “They met Stephanie, of course, but since? You’re the first.”
