"Whoa there, little monkey," Callie said, scooping her up. "How about I lower one of these rails, and you carefully cuddle up with Daddy."
“Are you hurt bad, Daddy?” Addison looked up at me with concern.
I looked at her, then at Callie. "No, not anymore, Babycakes, not anymore.”
Addison’s smile spread from ear to ear. “Did Callie tell you I didn’t let the bad man get Ben?” She glanced over at Callie and gave her a thumbs up.
I cringed and squeezed my eyes closed, just wondering what that could have meant.
Callie shook her head slowly as she pulled the guardrail down. “Maybe that’s a story for another day when your Daddy feels better.” Her face became paler, almost having a green hue to it. Whatever happened must have scared the hell out of Callie.
“What did you do?” I asked, looking down at Addison, who was climbing up onto the bed cautiously and snuggling under the blankets with me.
Her big blue eyes bore into mine. “I hid him!”
She hid him?
Callie cleared her throat and laid a hand over mine. "Addison heard the yelling, and she got scared. She took Ben into the neighbor's yard and hid him in the back yard playhouse."
“Why didn’t you just get Callie?”
"You told me not to cross the street, 'member, silly?" she said.
“But,” Callie cut in, “Addison and I have a plan now if things go wrong. We even practiced it a few times.”
“Dwills,” Addison said, giggling.
"Yes, we practiced the drills." Callie looked at me, her face still blanched and her eyes still raw from crying. "I couldn't find him," she cried, "and when I did, he was so cold." She sniffled and coughed. "But he was fine. Addison told us where he was in time."
“He was outside in the cold? For a while?” I asked.
She nodded her head. “And so, since you’ve been in the hospital for a few days, we’ve had the chance to practice what to do in emergencies. Any emergencies.”
“Firefighters came over, Daddy! I stopped, dropped, and rolled!”
I looked down at my daughter as she smiled up at me proudly. Addison was going to be fine after this, and she was going to be fine all because she had someone like Callie in her life. Someone who cared for her and loved her.
“You love Callie, don’t you, Addison?”
“Yep! She’s my bestest friend in the whole world!”
Color came back to Callie's cheeks, and a small gasp escaped from her lips when I agreed. "I love her, too, Addison. I really do."
Chapter 25
Callie
"Are the kids asleep?" Dylan asked as I walked into the kitchen.
"Yep, both of them are out cold," I answered, stopping in the doorway. I didn't remember where I left my purse, and my eyes scanned the room, searching for it. "Have you seen my bag? I could have sworn I left it right on the table."
He ignored my question and took a careful step toward me. A few weeks had passed since the attack, yet he still moved around gingerly, refusing any pain medication or help. I came over every day to help with the kids, but mostly Dylan and I talked and laughed, cooked together and played with the children.
“Why don’t you stay here tonight?” he whispered in a husky voice.
My breath caught in my throat, almost choking me. What was he asking me? “Stay here?” My shoulders shuddered at the thought of it, staying with him for a whole night, but I shook the images away.
His brows pulled together at my hesitation. “With me.”
I leaned back against the wall, hitting my hip into the counter, my heart drumming wildly inside my chest. Half of me wanted to run to him and jump in his arms, the other half wanted to wait weeks, years, decades more and cherish this time we’ve spent getting to know one another. In all my life, I had never been wooed before, never spent nights talking until dawn with someone, laughing so much with someone, falling in love with someone. I didn’t know how to react—I was terrified to lose what we were building—terrified to take the next step.
His eyes locked on mine as he slowly closed the distance between us. Each step he took was an eternity, a lifetime of anticipation and desperate need. What would his lips feel like on mine? Would he kiss me slow and long, or would our mouths collide, exploding with tongues and teeth?
My heart thudded faster.
He was halfway across the room, and the air between us came alive with electricity and heat. Every part of me shivered as his eyes roamed my body as if I were already bared to him. My knees weakened, and I shifted on my feet with the deep, achy need that throbbed between my thighs.
I squeezed my legs together to ease the sensation.
Dylan pursed his lips and smiled knowingly. “You feel that?”
God, yes, I did. I felt it like warm rain, washing over every inch of my skin. It was erotic and carnal, like he was touching me with something more real than his hands, touching something inside me that I kept hidden from other men for years. I nodded my head, unable to form words. If I opened my mouth, I knew the only thing we'd both hear was a moan. There was this heated awareness tickling across my flesh—it made my breasts heavy—my nipples hard and pulse with want. Even my fingertips tingled.
If he didn’t touch me, surely I’d die.
And still, he advanced toward me with that deliberate, steady pace.
Closer and closer he came, and with each step he took, my breathing quickened, faster and faster, until I was almost breathless and not even an inch of space stood between our bodies.
His eyes searched mine, our lips so close, I could feel his hot breath fan out along my throat and the warmth rising off his body mixing with mine.
"Stay with me," he whispered, inclining his head slowly until the heat of his lips brushed over the corner of mine.
Everything in me lit up like fire. I wanted to stay. I never wanted to leave again. I wanted to wrap myself around him and feel his hands, his lips, his tongue on every inch of my body. I wanted him to taste me, watch me, need me, fuck me, and make me forget every other man’s name but his. He hadn’t even touched me, yet fluttering waves of pleasure rolled through me. I could barely keep from touching him, from climbing up his thick, hard body and taking all I wanted.
His hand reached up and gently traced the bottom of my jaw. Goosebumps puckered up and out over my neck and shoulders. I lifted up onto my toes, needy for his lips and breath.
He rumbled low in his throat as our lips touched, his fingers pressed into my skin as I opened my mouth and tasted him for the first time. Hesitant. Slow. Our lips moved, and breathy gasps moaned out. I wasn’t sure who the sounds were coming from; it could have been him, or me, or both of us, drawing the sighs and gasps from one another, tongues slipping in, touching, tasting. Realizing this kiss, this closeness would never be enough. We would need more and more, for lifetimes. I would never get enough of him, of this.
I felt instantly helpless. His hands were everywhere; my neck, sliding up my back, pushing down my pants, grasping at my shirt. I clung to him, my head spinning with desire so dizzying, I feared I would fall over. Fall off the Earth, into nothing but pleasure and sensation.
I pulled him closer, our soft moans lost against our lips. The taste of him surged through my bloodstream. One kiss, and I was ruined forever, wrecked for any other man after him.
“Please,” he whispered into the kiss, his hands slowly and gently cupping my face.
“Please what?” I murmured, reclining my head back. Wasn’t it clear I wanted this, too?
Our lips parted, and our eyes locked onto each other. "Please stay," he whispered hoarsely. "Don't leave. Don't ever leave.”
His words rooted into my brain and pierced right through my heart. I pressed my body against his chest, my inner thighs vibrating with the need to grind against him. “Ever?” I whispered.
“Ever.”
His arms wrapped tighter around me until my feet were suddenly swept up off the floor and he was cradling me in his arms, carryi
ng me out of the kitchen and down the hallway into his bedroom.
As he kicked the door closed behind us, I slid down his body until my toes touched the rug. I stepped back, taking him in, taking the image of both of us in, standing in his room, lights dim, our clothes askew, and feeling like neither of us would ever find our way back from this.
Suddenly, I was terrified, panting, unable to catch my breath. What if we couldn’t do this? What if he hurt me? What if things didn’t work out the way we wanted them to? What if I couldn’t trust him? What if he just—
“Ever? Dylan, that’s—that’s a pretty long time.” My voice trembled as I backed away quickly until the back of my knees hit his mattress.
“Trust me, Callie. It still won’t be long enough of a time for me to do all the things I want to do to you.” He stepped forward, grabbing at the hem of his shirt, and pulled it up over his head.
Oh Lord, was this man gorgeous.
And I wanted him, not only his body, but his heart. And I deserved it. I deserved to be with someone I could think about forever with. Together we’d be perfect. All he wanted was me. And with him, I could have everything I never thought possible.
Then he lunged at me, devouring the distance, lips over mine, skin against mine, and I forgot everything I ever feared. With him, I could be brave and unafraid. With him, I would be fearless.
His lips became punishing as they pressed against my mouth, slipping wet and hard down my neck. His hands yanked up at my shirt, almost tearing it from my body. He tossed it behind his shoulder and looked at me, licking his lips slowly.
“I will never, never get enough of you, Callie. You,” he said, grasping onto the waist of my leggings and pushing them all the down, “you’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed and tugged me between his legs. I gasped out loud as my outer thigh shifted over the hard bulge in his pants. He laughed darkly and bit his lower lip.
His hands dropped to the waist of his pants, and he unbuttoned himself quickly, letting them pool around his ankles, and pulled himself out. Instantly, I wanted to drop to my knees and worship him.
Instead, he fisted his shaft with one hand and pulled at my hip with the other, tugging me over his leg so I straddled his thigh. The second the lace of my underwear hit his leg, I wanted to grind into him to lessen my desperate ache. I couldn't help myself from moving, squirming against him as I watched him run his hand over his cock.
“Perfect,” he whispered as he leaned forward and sucked at the thin lace that covered my nipple.
Pleasure shot up the middle of my body as his lips pulled and tugged at the lace, wetting it completely. The rough, wet material rubbed over my skin, and I moaned out his name. We weren't even having sex yet, but I felt on the verge of exploding in pleasure.
“I need this off,” he rasped, pulling at the lace straps of my bra.
I pulled it off and dropped it to the floor, and he stopped his movements and stared at me. A tingling swept up the back of my neck and across my face as I stood before him, vulnerable, naked save for a small patch of black lace that was doing nothing to hide my arousal.
"What's wrong?" I asked, bringing my arms up to cover my breasts.
“Don’t,” he growled, grabbing both my wrists and pushing them behind my back. “You’re just perfect, Callie. I just can’t stop thinking about how perfect you are.” Then he kissed me slow and long until he slipped his fingers into the thin waistband of my panties and ripped them clean off my body. The tear of the material dug into my skin, and I gasped out; it was pleasure and pain, a lingering burn that made my eyes water.
He gripped the back of my head and pulled my hair back, raking his mouth and teeth down the length of my throat. He licked at my collarbone and breasts, nipping softly at my nipples until I was wrapping both my legs around his waist and writhing my hips against him.
His hand slipped between us, pressing the head of his cock against my clit; soft, warm, and smooth, I felt it throb and brush in circles over me. He moved slow, up and down, grazing past my opening, and circling over again. I shivered with agonizing want. I didn't want to wait for him any longer. I needed him to fill me. I wanted him inside me more than anything I ever wanted before.
He leaned his forehead against mine, both of us watching him sweeping and stroking himself against me. Then we both stilled and gasped as the head of his cock pressed between my lips and slowly slipped inside me. My thighs quivered from the effort, so gradual and deliberate, sinking deeper and deeper inside me. Our breaths came out loud and harsh, trying to hold back and take it slow.
I was trembling against him, my heart beating out of my chest. Then we were lost in each other, thrusting and grinding, bucking and crying out curses and confessions of love.
He leaned away until his back lay flat on the mattress, and I moaned in surprise as my weight pressed down, pressing into his pelvis. My body was pinning him to the bed, my knees on either side of him, and I ached back, moving and moaning with pleasure. I was spellbound by his expression, lost in every grunt and upward thrust as I rode him slow and deep.
Words spilled out from his lips in gasps and groans, so close and so warm, I want to cum inside you, please let me cum inside you.
I ground into him, slower, deeper until he grasped his fingers over my bottom and rolled us around. Still buried inside me, he pressed his body on top of mine, supporting himself on his forearms, our chests and stomachs touching, pushing his cock over and over into me, slow and steady. He kissed my mouth wholly, worshiping my lips. Both of us barely breathing, until the intensity coiled like fire through my muscles and I could no longer stop my body from explosion. My orgasm spread over my body, from my toes up to my head, and I cried out against his mouth, digging my fingernails into his skin. He rode it out slow, continuing the pace as I writhed and bucked beneath him.
His body tightened and his cock pulsed and throbbed inside me, thrusting and thrusting, grunting out my name. Callie, Callie, oh God, my name a whispered prayer. Our eyes locked on each other, raw and deliberate, our souls tangling and ripping wide open.
Sweaty and exhausted, I fell asleep in his arms, knowing this was the last man I would ever be like this with.
Epilogue
Dylan
Two years later
I looked down at my watch. It was half past nine. I've been waiting here for thirty minutes, and I was starting to lose patience. I still had an hour and thirty-minute drive back home, and I needed to make sure to meet my groomsmen to pick up the tuxedos at noon.
These people better hurry up.
A buzzer sounded, and a door opened. “Dylan Sanborn?”
Finally. I looked up at the corrections officer and smiled.
“Follow me,” he said, holding the door open to the visitation room.
“Thank you,” I said as we walked through the double doors and buzzed into the next security post.
I hung my coat up and again showed my identification. Through the bulletproof glass, I got a quick glimpse of Sheri sitting in the visiting area. She sat alone at a small table in the corner, hair pulled back drastically into a ponytail, green prison jumpsuit hanging off her thin frame.
She gave me a sheepish smile when I sat down across from her, and a small whispered, "Hello," followed.
“Hello, Sheri. How have you been?” I asked, just like I always did when I visited. And I visited—almost every other month—for the last year. I even brought Addison and Ben in the beginning until Sheri complained about how much Addison talked and how whiny Ben had become. They hadn't come for a visitation for six months, and Sheri never seemed to mind, or care, or even ask about them. It was better that way anyway. Addison was always too scared to see Sheri; it made her easily irritable and overly emotional, so leaving her home was easier on everyone.
Sheri shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”
She gained some weight, looked a lot healthier than she did. Supposedly, she was taking some college cl
asses here. I wasn’t sure what the subjects were, and honestly, I really didn't care all that much.
“Still marrying that cop?” she asked.
“Tomorrow,” I answered with a nod.
"G asked me to marry him, too," she said, licking her lips. "When we both get out." She smiled and shrugged again.
Right. Whatever. “Listen, I just came here today to make sure. I know you signed the papers, and I know—”
She leaned forward and whisper-yelled, “I said I was fine with it, okay? I don’t…I don’t want that life, so you can just have it, got it?” She scratched at her chin and grimaced. “You guys deserve good things. And I’m not a good thing. I know that.”
I observed her, looking for signs, but it wouldn't matter now, would it? She put herself in this place. I heard she'd been caught inside her cell with marijuana and a few pills, but still, being in prison was safer and more controlled for her than the outside. And at the rate she was getting in trouble in here, she might end up doubling or even tripling her time. "You need to stay out of trouble in here," I whispered back.
“And you need to stop coming here. Go live your life, and let me live mine. Stop feeling guilty because I fucked up.”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay."
She would never understand I wasn't visiting her in here for me or us; I was visiting for my children, in case one day they’d want to see her again. The problem was, she didn’t want anything to do with them, and I was foolish to keep on trying. That’s why I was here, for the last time, making sure nothing would ever hurt my children again.
"Don't look at me like that!" she snapped, folding her arms over her stomach. "I want to sit here and say my kids are important to me. I want to feel like they are the most important things in my life, but I can't. I don't want to be someone's mother. I just want to live my life." She looked past me and winked at one of the other visiting families. "Just go do what you said you wanted to do. I signed all the papers and gave up all my rights as their mother six months ago, and we got divorced at the beginning of the trial. I’m all good. Really.”
Finding Love (Behind Blue Lines Book 3) Page 17
