Wild Side (Dark Side Series: Book 2)

Twenty-Six

Caelan rested heavy against my shoulder. "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately," he began. Even though he was out of breath, he seemed, sounded, almost nervous.  "What I was gonna do if you didn't come back, what I'd do when you did."

My cheek brushed his. "And?"

He was quiet, but it was stillness fulsome and soft—punctuated by the heavy breathing of two bodies falling out of sync—the hush that came with having too much to say and no idea how to say it. He stayed with me a moment longer, and then with a quick pull and a fleeting kiss we were two people again.

"Never mind," he said. "Another time."

"Well," I said, fanning the flush from my neck. "Now I really want to know."

But Caelan wouldn't tell me. He carefully walked off to snag his shirt to do a bit of a preliminary cleanup while I shuffled over to the downstairs bathroom cursing his name for making me drip all across my recently mopped floors. Once I'd cooled down and cleaned off, I found him standing beside a section of living room wall, dressed in his jeans, his dirty shirt in one hand, mine in the other. He'd flipped the television on to the news. In the blue glow of the screen the faintest sheen of sweat lingered on his chest. A good look on him, I decided, feeling the faint upturn of my lips at the sight. Better still, he was all mine.

He turned at my footsteps and passed me my shirt. "Don't suppose I could throw mine in the wash?" he asked.

I pulled the soft cotton over my head. "You planning on being here when it comes out?"

The amber heat of his gaze had cooled to a pleasant golden simmer. He leaned against my sofa, hand braced on the leather backing. "I'll even buy you dinner, if you haven't eaten yet."

"Doing this date backwards, aren't we?"

He tilted his head. "Wouldn't call this a date."

"What would you call it?" But I meant 'us' and he knew it.

His hand found mine. "Somehow, at sometime, but not right now."  He squeezed my hand a moment, then dropped his shirt into my palm with a wolfish smile.

I wrinkled my nose. "Gross," I said, headed for the laundry carrying the shirt with the absolute minimum number of fingers.He followed along after me. I didn't need to turn to know he was in a playfully good mood.

"You didn't think it was gross a little while ago."

"It wasn't cold then."

Being as much of a gentleman as he could be in the moment, Caelan carried my sheets upstairs and made the bed before stripping down to shower. "So, dinner?" he asked, watching me pull a towel out of the bathroom closet.

"Can you cook?"

"I know how to make a phone call."

I shook my head. "Pizza'd be great."

He met my eyes in the bathroom mirror. "Sausage?"

And I tossed the towel gently against his naked chest. "Think I've had enough of that for now."

"You sure about that?" he asked in a tone heavy with memories of what we'd done. He grabbed me by the waist and reeled me in for a deep kiss. The towel dropped between us. When he pulled away, that quiet, odd little look had returned to his eyes and smile.

"Hurry up," I told him, tapping his chest. "I'm calling now. I've got company coming. Cal. I've gotta shower before she gets here."

The look vanished as quickly as it'd come. "I can leave," he said.