Page 60 of Simmer Down
“Why do you even put up with me?” My attempt at a diversion fails, because he answers promptly.
“Because you’re one of my favorite people on this island. You call me on my shit and it’s sexy as hell. You’re passionate and caring. You work hard, you fight hard, and you love hard. Not to mention you’re gorgeous.” His hands press into me harder, and it’s heaven. “Do you want me to keep going?”
I shake my head. Any other time I could listen to him talk about what he adores about me all night long. But that’s not what I want right now.
“What do you want, Nikki?”
It’s the millionth time he’s asked me this. I remember the first time he posed that same question while standing in the foyer of his parents’ empty house back in London. He asks me what I want almost every time we hook up, and I usually show him with my hands or mouth. But now the words sound like a completely different language in this conversation where we’re both fire-breathing dragons ready to demolish the other.
“I want you, Callum. Right now.”
His left hand slides to my forearm. “You’re burning up,” he growl-whispers.
Hot with jealousy, simmering with arousal. The flames are the same; it’s just the feelings that change. And he’s the root of them all.
“I can’t help it,” I pant. “You do this to me. Every single time. I’m burning whenever I’m around you. I act like the biggest fool because of you.”
That’s the watered-down truth of my behavior today. That’s as much as I want to tell him.
He leans down and his mouth lands softly on the side of my neck. My eyes flutter as I let the tingles make their merry way down the rest of my body.
“I suppose I should cool you off, then,” he says against my shoulder.
He takes me by the hand to the bathroom in the hallway. Heturns the knob in the tub, and a rush of water shoots from the showerhead. We both shed our clothes in silent unison. There’s no need for words right now.
Callum steps in the shower before I can get a proper look at him. It doesn’t matter how many times I see him naked. I’m forever in awe. Under the brightness of the overhead light and the sheen of the water, he is stunning. Like always.
I claw at the wet muscle in front of me, and he captures my mouth in his. We’re kissing so hard, so rabidly that I can hardly breathe. The only air I get is through tiny gaps between our mouths when our movements are too rough.
I breathe, he breathes, and we do it over and over.
He’s grabbing at my waist, the fleshy curve of my hips, my generously rounded backside. I give his chiseled chest one last eager grope with both hands. And then I stroke along his always impressive length, speeding up with every groan and grunt he gives me. It’s two minutes until he’s done for.
I rinse my hand in the stream surrounding us, but then he grips my hips and directs me to sit on the ledge at the far end of the shower. I watch him kneel down in front of me, biting my lip to suppress a groan. The water is lukewarm right now and that’s a good thing. I’ll need to cool off soon.
He pushes his face between my legs and works his magic. Endless swirls and licks and sucks. I’m howling. It echoes against the walls of the bathroom, the only appropriate soundtrack to the filthy actions taking place in this steamy haven. Legs shaking and muscles twitching, I explode. He doesn’t dare let up, digging his fingers in my thighs.
Still no words. It’s exactly how I want it, how I need it.
He helps me up, we rinse, towel off, then reconvene in his bed. He cuddles me into his chest. Every muscle inside me that wasformerly tense is now relaxed into goo. This is the effect Callum James has on me. I’m a wildfire one minute and Play-Doh the next.
“I’m sorry for how I acted today,” I whisper against his chest.
“It’s all right, Nikki. I just wish...”
When he doesn’t finish right away, I open my mouth to ask him what he wishes, but I stop myself. I don’t want to know. Because if he told me what I want to hear, I’d be stuck. How could I date the man who could put me out of business?
And that’s not even the worst part. The worst part is that I’m so into Callum, that in the right weak moment, I might actually choose him.
A weak moment a lot like this one, where I’m tucked against him in the dark, surrounded by his mass, protected, his entire body feeling like home.
But then I’d be the worst daughter who ever lived, and I have a promise to keep. I refuse to break it.
Before he can finish, I kiss him. I pull the bedsheet over the two of us and close my eyes, hoping his silence lasts until I fall asleep.
•••
When I open my eyes, Callum’s lead pipe of an arm is on top of me, and I’m tucked securely underneath. I close my eyes and let out a long, silent breath so I don’t wake him. It’s so damn comfortable under here, under Callum, under his super soft bedsheets.
