Callum & Harper (Sleepless 1)

Turns out, Callum is a nervous flier. That, coupled with the fact that I wasn’t exactly in ‘fighting’ condition, and Callum was a giant bundle of nerves, didn’t help his unease.

“You need a drink, Callum. Something strong,” I jested, prodding my shoulder with his, adding a tiny smile.

“Nothing short of moonshine would take the edge off of me right now,” he teased. Callum turned to me, running a crooked finger down my jaw line. “I want you, Harper.”

My breath sped and my heart beat pushed the boundaries of normal, threatening to rip itself from my chest. I inhaled slowly, closing my eyes. I opened them. “You can’t say things like that on a crowded flight, Callum.”

“Why not?” He asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

I took in the people around us. “Because these people seem nice enough and I wouldn’t want to traumatize that little kid staring at us three rows down.”

Callum peeked down the aisle in the direction of the little girl before turning back to me. “We wouldn’t want to do that now, would we,” he said, leaning closely to my face, his lips inches from mine.

I was forced to swallow. “Nuh uh,” I said, leaning closer to close the gap. His breath tickled my face and I sighed in exasperation when he put, what felt like, way too much distance between him and myself. “What a tease,” I said, wrapping my right hand around his neck then letting go for fear I’d do something drastic.

Callum and I made out in the back seat of the cab we took home from the airport like a couple of sex-crazed teenagers. I had forgotten there was a person even driving the cab but when we pulled in front of our building, my face flushed a brilliant red when the cabbie winked at me while placing our bags on the curb. What, ya’ perv? We’re married. And before you go all, eww, on me, know that I hate PDA, hate it, but you know my story. Can you blame me?

Callum threw our bags in the elevator, using one of them to hold the door open. He lifted me up and carried me ‘over the threshold’ of our building’s front door, and placed a kiss at my temple. He kicked the bag holding the door open into the lift and we rode up to our floor, kissing like our lips weren’t already red and swollen.

As we passed each floor, Callum would groan at each bell alerting to us to every floor. We were close, sending my heart into a frenzy. The doors dinged, signaling we’d arrived. Callum set me down right outside the lift doors and grabbed our bags, tossing them in front of our door. I walked closely to him, his hand gripping my waist.

On the door, were ten or so messages from our landlord, letting us know about packages that needed to be picked up or letting us know about visits from the N.Y.P.D, etc. Callum grabbed them all before opening the door to our home and tossing them onto the hall table, the bags came next and then me. He wrapped me in his arms again, locking the door behind us, and made a beeline for his dark bedroom. None of our friends knew we were coming home that night for, um, obvious reasons.

Callum laid me gently on his dark bed before standing to close his bedroom door. “Are you comfortable, Mrs. Tate?”

“Very much, Mr. Tate, thank you,” I told him.

He lowered himself next to me and kissed me like there was no tomorrow. “I’m so unbelievably grateful to be lying next to you, wife. You feel like a dream to me.”

“Maybe it is a dream. Maybe we’re not even awake right now. Maybe you’re a figment of my imagination and this entire ride has been a trip down unconscious lane. Maybe I’m still in my coma,” I contemplated, irrational fear creeping up my healing spine.

Callum kissed me deeply. “Does that feel like a dream?” He asked.

I smiled, inches from his lips. “No, it most certainly does not.” He began to kiss me again but I stopped him. “Help me up,” I told him.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said seductively.

“Yes, I need, uh, to shower.”

“What? No, you don’t.” He buried his face into my neck and inhaled, kicking up the perfume that laid dormant on my skin. His cologne and my own fragrance mixed well, making me feel faint. The two mixed oh so perfectly together. “You smell amazing,” he said.

“Callum, please? This is a big deal for me. I want it to be perfect.”

“Harper Tate, you’re here, it’s already perfect.”

“Please, I want a shower, babe. Just help me up.”

“Can I watch?” He asked in all seriousness, making me laugh. His eyes twinkled lightly.

“If you want.”

Callum helped me up and brought me to my room. “I guess this really will be the guest room now?”

He chuckled, his chest shaking with the effort. “I guess so.”

I slowly turned the water on, my back still slightly sore. The hot water would help get rid of any stiffness I had and that was the real reason I was showering right then. It wasn’t ideal my first time being just after I was recovering from a broken back but I couldn’t complain, not really. Callum made himself comfortable on the marble counter of my sink as I began to undress. He slid to the edge of the marble, his right knee bouncing up and down.

I stopped unbuttoning my jeans and peered his direction. “Don’t even think about it. You stay right there.”