“What!” I laugh quietly. “You did not.”
“I said almost. And yeah, I was so nervous I almost hurled my guts out.”
“Poor baby.” I take his head in my hands and pull him forward, between my parted legs, resting my lips on his forehead. His arms slide around my waist and his hands immediately begin stroking my back, painstakingly gentle.
“Abby?”
“Yes?”
“I have a confession to make: I accidentally climbed into Jenna’s room first.” His muffled laughter quivers against my chest, doing funny things to my girl parts.
I shove him away in shock. “What?” I practically shout. “Are you serious? How—what did she do?”
“Well,” he responds slowly, a huge grin spreading across his face. “You know how Jenna is. Of course she threated to shoot me. But that was before she knew it was me.”
“Oh my God, that girl is crazy! You could have been shot with an actual Taser gun!”
He makes a casual pfft sound, like getting shot with a stun gun is no big deal. “Yeah, but it would have totally been worth it.”
My hand flies to my chest, covering my heart as it flutters. “You would… you would get Tasered for me?” I take back what I said before. This is by far the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.
He shrugs. “Course I would.”
“Awww! Caleb, that is so… so awkwardly sweet.”
He shrugs again like it’s no big deal, like he contemplates a good Tasering on a daily basis and finds the process tediously boring.
God, he’s adorable.
I lovingly stroke the side of his face, and he leans in again, nuzzling the valley between my breasts with his nose.
“I noticed you’re wearing my shirt.” His muffled voice is barely audible, but I detect a pleased lilt to it.
I smile into his hair, against the top of his head. “It’s my shirt now, remember?”
He leans back on his taut haunches, calloused fingers stroking my shoulders, down my arms, fiddling with the hem of our shirt and watching my face the entire time. I lean back, bracing myself up with my arms, and look down as his big hands run slowly along the cotton trim then disappear underneath.
My breath hitches when those same hands linger over my belly button, drawing lazy loops around it. “I love your belly button,” he murmurs. “It’s so damn sexy.”
He leans in and licks it, his tongue trailing its way up my stomach. Deftly, my tee shirt gets pushed up, and Caleb is sliding his hands up my abs, over my breasts, and pulling the shirt off in one swift motion.
“Caleb.”
“Mmmm?”
“I just wanted to say that… oh, that feels good… I just wanted to say that… mnnnuuh… c-climbing… uhh… maybe you should s-stop doing that so I can s-say what I need to say.” I get the words out as he’s yanking his own shirt over his head, and my hands snake up his bare chest.
What was it I wanted to say?
“What did you want to say, baby? I’m listening.”
Oh, Jesus. Who can think straight with these capable fingers stroking so perilously close to a person’s, um, lace-covered crotch.
I struggle to string my sentence together.
“Climbing out that…” I gasp “…window at the Kappa house was the… single best decision I’ve ever made.” My head tips back and his lips find the beating pulse on my neck. “B-besides coming to this university, with that house, and that window.” I say it quietly, in a slurred, drunken whisper before I lose my courage.
I feel him smile against my neck, and he nips my shoulder with his teeth as his hands caress the soft skin of my naked breasts. “I’m one lucky bastard.”
I giggle. “I sure am glad it wasn’t Cubby standing outside the day I climbed out that window.”
Caleb pulls his mouth off my neck. “That’s not even funny.” He pouts and nudges me onto my back.
“Oh!” I gasp as he climbs on top of the bed, on top of my pristine, virginal white duvet.
He leans down, rubbing his stubble along my jawline. “Did you miss me, Abby?”
“Yes. So much.”
“What an awkward pair we make.”
“Would you stop talking and kiss me?”
“Whoa, someone’s gotten bossy in the six days I’ve been gone.”
I groan in frustration and roll my eyes. “Stop teasing.”
“You want a kiss?” He plants a chaste kiss on my cheek, a wet smacking sound resonating in the room. “Like that?”
No, not like that. My brows furrow, but I’m not yet forward enough to make sexual demands. I don’t know if I’ll ever be.
“Or like this.” Another kiss, this one on my temple. “Or like… this.” His firm, beautiful lips kiss one corner of my mouth, then the other.
“That feels… kind of okay,” I joke, getting into the spirit.
“Kind of okay, she says.” Caleb’s mouth hovers a whisper above mine. “Kind of—”
“Would you. Stop. Talking already? Kiss me like you mean it.” Even in the dark, I can see his eyes blazing with arousal as he stares down at me, shaggy, unkempt hair falling in his eyes. “Kiss me like you haven’t kissed me in six days. Kiss me like… like this.”