Page 86 of Close Contact
“Fuck—baby, you feel like heaven.” She gasped when I bottomed out, and I stilled, holding her neck, kissing her shoulder again. “You were made in heaven, made for me. I’ll never get enough of this, of you. You hear me?” She nodded, face pressing back into the pillow. “Use your words, Aurélie.”
“I hear you.”
“Good girl.”
I rocked into her slowly, kissing the back of her neck, hand still on her throat, palm flat against her pulse. Her body welcomed me as if it already missed me. Each drag, each thrust, each soft grunt against her skin made her melt. I could feel her unraveling again.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to let you go after this,” I whispered, voice cracked and breaking. “I can’t. I fucking can’t.”
“You don’t have to,” she said, and the sound of it undid me. The orgasm hit like a wave, hers first, her body trembling. I followed with a groan, holding her against me like she might slip through my fingers. When it was over, I stayed inside her and refused to move.
“Callum,” she whispered, “we have to get up.”
I shook my head, nose brushing her neck. “No. Just… one more minute.”
She laughed softly. “You said that fifteen minutes ago.”
“I meant it then too.” I kissed her shoulder again and closed my eyes.
Because the world could burn, and I’d still come back here—to this.
To her.
Always.
The lightin Callum’s flat was unfair, all bright, warm, and stupidly romantic. Everything about it whisperedstay, and everything in me screamedrun before you get caught.
I sat on the edge of his bed, bra clasped but still twisted, trying to get the strap to lay flat. My thighs were sore. My lips were bruised. My heart was… unsteady.
Behind me, Callum groaned as he stretched. “Why are you dressed?”
I glanced over my shoulder, startled that he roused after slipping back into a deep slumber. He was still half-asleep, sprawled on his stomach like a goddamn sin come to life, covers low enough to see the curve of his spine and the top of that glorious ass. I should’ve looked away. I didn’t.
“I’ve got a flight in two hours,” I said.
He made a sound of protest, pushing himself up on one elbow. “Fly with me.”
“Callum—”
“My jet leaves in an hour and a half. We’ll be in Barcelona before your car even hits the airport. Come on.” His voice was still raspy, eyes sleepy and soft. “You can sleep the whole way. I’ll even get you a croissant.”
I rolled my eyes, standing to pull on my jeans and tug a shirt over my head. My aching body protested every movement. “You trying to seduce me with pastries now?”
“If it works. I’ll even make sure it’s pistachio.”
I shook my head, grinning. “First of all, I’ve already indulged in that this week, and you know as well as I do how strict our diets are. Second of all, it’s way too obvious. If anyone sees us getting off the same plane?—“
“No one will. We’ll land at the private terminal, use different cars. You know this.”
“I do,” I said quietly, having just had this conversation last night as we curled into each other. “But I also know what people say when theythinkthey’ve caught something. They don’t need evidence, they just need a headline. And right now, we can’t afford one.”
He watched me, silent, then slipped out of bed to close the space between us. His hands cupped my hips, warm and steady. “I hate this.”
“I know. I do too.”
He kissed my forehead like it physically hurt him not to ask for more. “At least let me book the seat next to yours. I’ll wear a hat. Sunglasses. Fake mustache.”
“Cal.”
