Intimate

by Noelle Adams

  “Then we will.” She studied his face carefully. “I don’t want you to keep this job if you’re not happy, Caleb.”

  He looked at her in surprise, wondering how she’d read his mind. “I am happy. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  “If there’s something else you’d rather be doing—”

  “There’s nothing else.” His tone was too curt, mostly because he felt so guilty.

  There was absolutely no reason to keep this secret from her. She might be disappointed in him, but she wasn’t unreasonable. She would understand.

  But it felt like he was giving up everything—all of his freedom, all of his space—in his relationship with her, and this was one little piece that was still his.

  He’d never lived without a safety net before, and he wasn’t ready to start now.

  “Okay. Good.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Sorry to nag.”

  * * *

  A few days later, Marissa and Caleb were back in her apartment. Back on her sofa. Only this time, Caleb’s shirt was hanging open and Marissa’s was tossed on the floor.

  It had started as an innocent neck and shoulder massage. Caleb had been tense and moody, so Marissa had been trying to get him to relax.

  What followed wasn’t exactly relaxing.

  For the first time in his life, Caleb had Marissa's bare breasts in his sight. In his hands. In his mouth. He was flooded with overwhelming feelings—lust, tenderness, possessiveness, need, pride, and raw hunger. The taste of her warm skin, the feel of her soft flesh, her scent enveloping him—it was absolutely intoxicating.

  She gave a harsh gasp and pressed her chest up toward his mouth when he teased one tight nipple with his tongue. Her hands flew up and lodged at the back of his head—urging him to take more of her breast in his mouth.

  With a surge of visceral pleasure and power, he reached his hand up to take her other nipple between his fingers. Twirled it in time with his tongue.

  “Caleb! God, you’re killing me.” Her hips squirmed shamelessly beneath him.

  He lifted his head to give her a break from the sensations. Then trailed a line of kisses up her neck and onto her flushed face. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, easing himself up so he could look at her. Her lips were red and slightly swollen, and there was a light sheen to her fair skin. Her breasts were full and heavy, gravity forcing the rosy nipples to the side as she lay on her back. “Marissa, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “You say Marissa,” she teased, reaching up to stroke his face. “But why does it feel like you’re talking to my boobs?”

  Unable to repress a chuckle, he lowered his mouth back to the breast he’d previously ignored. She arched beneath him again—in a way that was becoming familiar. Becoming addictive.

  She kept writhing beneath him, and her pelvis soon found the bulge of his erection and rocked into it insistently. Her motion was instinctive rather than skillful, but it didn’t matter.

  Skillful or not, Caleb was frighteningly close to coming.

  He groaned desperately over her skin, the vibrations apparently making her whimper and shudder beneath him.

  Finally, he jerked his face away. “We should stop,” he rasped, the effort physically painful. “Unless…”

  “Yeah. The week’s not over yet.”

  He tried to heave himself back into a sitting position. He was afraid to stand up. His groin throbbed dangerously, and he really didn’t want to humiliate himself in front of Marissa.

  She sat up too, apparently forgetting that she was half-naked. She moved over until she was pressed up against his side. “Caleb, I know how hard this has been for you.”

  He grunted again. Wished he were able to shape polysyllabic words.

  Marissa pressed a kiss on his cheek and slipped her hand down to his groin. “If you want, I could try to help you with this.”

  Jerking his head toward her, he scanned her face carefully. She was still aroused, but he could detect a faint nervousness she was trying to hide. “It’s really fine. You don’t have to.” He attempted to rise.

  She resisted, trying to hold him down on the couch. “But I want to. I don’t think I can do much—certainly nothing very sexy—but if you don’t mind keeping your pants on, I could try.” To emphasize her point, she started moving her hand in a gentle massage.

  A lingering moan escaped from his throat at the unexpected pressure of her hand. One of his arms flew out to grab at the back of the sofa. “Marissa? Are you sure?” He had to grit the words through his clenched teeth. He could already feel his climax spiraling up.

  Marissa pushed him back against the couch to give her better access. Then she moved onto her knees, providing him—intentionally or not—with a better view of her gorgeous breasts. “Yeah. I’m sure. You’re trying so hard to please me that you forget I want to please you too.”

  He groaned again as she strengthened the rhythm of her fingers, and he tried not to close his eyes as the pressure coiled inside him. He wanted to watch her. See her.

  His hips had started moving automatically, giving small, jerky thrusts up into her hand. He was panting now, and he wasn’t going to last very long. But he tried to hold back so he could enjoy this for as long as possible. “Marissa,” he grunted softly, “God, baby.”

  She didn’t look nearly so anxious now, and she gazed at him with naked tenderness. “Is it okay? Caleb? Will you come?”

  He wanted to laugh at the irony, but he was much too far gone. He rocked into the pressure more urgently. “Yeah. God, yeah.”

  At that, the last traces of self-consciousness disappeared from her eyes. She leaned in to kiss him. Licked a line across his lips. “Come, Caleb. Please. I want to see you.”

  But he didn’t want to come yet. He wanted more of her touch, her tenderness, her need.

  “Caleb,” she whispered, her mouth now at his ear. “You feel so good. I love how you’re out of control.” She tugged on his earlobe with her teeth. Then said, “I’m not making any promises, but I don’t think we should agree to another week.”

  He wasn’t prepared. Lost control completely. Let out a raw burst of sound.

  He came before he realized what was happening. Came beneath the pressure of her hand. Came in a powerful wave of release.

  Caleb came with Marissa pressed up beside him.

  Fifteen

  “If you keep on bugging me about this,” Marissa snapped, “then I’m just not going to tell you when I have an appointment with my therapist.”

  “I haven’t bugged you at all.” Caleb’s voice on the other end of the call sounded just as annoyed as she was. “I haven’t put any pressure on you to tell me. You know that. But you’ve got to admit that I have every reason to want to know what happened to you back then, since it’s still affecting you so much.”

  Of course it was still affecting her. It was affecting him too. It was the reason they couldn’t have sex yet.

  “I know you do, but it’s more complicated than that.”

  “You can tell your therapist?”

  “Yes, I’ve told her.”

  “And she doesn’t think you should tell me too?”

  For a moment, Marissa wanted to shake him. She didn’t need this argument on her way to her appointment—which was already emotionally draining enough. But she made herself take a deep breath and not yell at him the way she wanted.

  “Yes, she thinks I should tell you, but she knows enough to realize it’s not as easy as you’re making it sound. I can’t just snap my fingers and fix everything because you want me to. People don’t work that way.”

  Caleb sounded like he wanted to shake her too. “I’m not expecting you to fix everything. I’m not expecting anything so ridiculous. I just want you to tell me what makes sex so hard for you, and I can’t figure out why the fuck you keep refusing.”

  Of course, he didn’t understand. There was no way to make him understand.

  Not without crushing him
.

  There were only a few things in the world he believed in, and she wasn’t going to take one away from him.

  The idea hurt so much. All of it hurt so much.

  Plus, she was trying to find a parking space within a mile of her therapist’s office when there just didn’t seem to be one.

  She ruthlessly suppressed the tears, but her voice wasn’t entirely steady when she forced out, “I can’t deal with this now. I’ll talk to you later.”

  When Caleb called back, almost immediately, she didn’t answer the phone.

  ***

  An hour and twenty minutes later, Marissa was shaky as she slid back into her car after her appointment.

  She’d spilled out all her angst about being unable to share the details with Caleb, and her therapist thought it was time to tell him the truth.

  She said Marissa was trying so hard to protect and take care of him that she wasn’t allowing him to be his own person. Caleb wasn’t her mother, but she was treating him like he was, like she had to keep him from spiraling down the drain like her mother had. Marissa wasn’t responsible for everything, and she couldn’t take on responsibility that wasn’t hers.

  All of it was true. Marissa had to admit, very reluctantly, it was true.

  They’d agreed her “homework” before her next appointment was to tell Caleb as much of the truth as she possibly could.

  She’d always been good at homework, but this might have been the hardest assignment she’d ever had.

  Pulling her phone out of her bag, she noticed that she’d missed four calls from Caleb. She scanned through them and was surprised to see that two of the calls were in the last half-hour.

  He’d known she’d be in this appointment. Why had he kept calling?

  She called him back and was worried when he didn’t answer.

  As she drove back to her apartment, she called twice more, still with no response, so she was relieved when her phone rang as she neared her building.

  She answered without checking the caller and was startled when it wasn’t Caleb’s voice on the other end.

  “I’m calling from Angels of Mercy Hospital about Caleb Wesley. Is this Marissa Dalton?”

  “Yes. Yes. What’s going on?”

  “Mr. Wesley was in a car accident and was taken to our emergency room. He gave us your number to call.”

  Marissa almost suffocated on a surge of fear. “Is he okay? What happened?”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed to give out details over the phone. Are you able to come to the hospital now?”

  “Yes. I’m on my way.”

  She made an illegal U-turn and drove way too fast to the hospital in a frightened, blurry daze, unable to think clearly—even about what she expected to find when she got there.

  She was trembling so much after she walked in that she could barely explain who she was looking for. It took a few minutes for them to get her to the right place, but she was eventually shown back into a room in the emergency room.

  When she saw Caleb, sitting alone with his eyes closed and his head resting against the wall, she made a gurgling sound.

  He was alive. He was upright. But the left side of his face was all scratched up, and he looked horrible.

  He opened his eyes when he heard her.

  “It’s not that bad,” he said, evidently reading her expression. “I’m just scratched up from the airbag.”

  She stumbled toward him, impulsively reaching out, but she paused before she did, afraid she might hurt him somehow.

  He pulled her down until she was basically in his lap and tightened his arms around her. “I’m fine, Marissa. I promise.”

  “They didn’t tell me what happened,” she said against his shoulder. “They didn’t tell me if you were all right.”

  “I don’t know what happened to my damned phone or I would have called you myself. I had it right after the accident, but then the paramedics insisted on taking me to the hospital.”

  “It looks like you needed to go. Do you have a concussion?” She examined his face, looking for signs of injury.

  “Yeah. Evidently it’s not that bad, though. I never lost consciousness or anything. I just have a headache and the stupid scratches on my face. I told you. I’m perfectly fine. My car isn’t so lucky, though.”

  “I’m sorry about your car. What happened with the accident?”

  “Some idiot ran a red light and hit me.”

  “Can you go home?”

  “I think so. As soon as they let me out of here.” He glared at the closed door of the room. “I’ve been abandoned in here for ages.”

  Marissa stood up, pleased to have something useful to do. “I’ll go see if I can find someone to move you along.”

  She pestered people until someone finally came in to finish things up. They said Caleb needed to rest for a few days and take Tylenol for the headache. She shouldn’t leave him alone for at least twenty-four hours and, if he slept, she should wake him every few hours to make sure he could wake up normally.

  After an endless amount of logistics, they were finally able to leave.

  Marissa stopped at her place quickly to get overnight stuff, and then she drove Caleb home.

  He was quiet and irritable so she didn’t talk a lot. She felt exhausted from too much emotional turmoil anyway, so she was just as happy not to sustain a conversation.

  When they got there, she made him take a quick shower and change into pajama pants and a t-shirt. Then she made him get into bed, even though he kept insisting he was fine.

  He didn’t look fine at all. He looked battered.

  He still had a headache so she got an ice-pack for him to use on his head, although he grumbled heatedly about it. She went through a long list of possible beverage choices until he consented to have a bottle of water.

  After she’d brought him the water, she fiddled with the shades to get the room as dark as possible.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked, standing beside the bed and looking down at him anxiously. He was pale and bedraggled and had a pained expression in his eyes.

  “I’m not hungry. I’m fine. Would you please just leave me alone?”

  She knew she should back off. She was too far into his space now, and any further attempts to care for him would only make him angry.

  But it was so hard to just let him be.

  She wanted so much to help him.

  “Okay. I’ll let you rest.”

  His eyes had been focused on the television, which he’d turned to a sports channel. But now he shifted them to her face.

  His expression softened, and he reached an arm out toward her. “Come here, baby.”

  With a helpless sound, she climbed into bed with him and let him pull her body against his. She burrowed into his side, taking comfort in the fact that he felt as warm, strong, and whole as ever.

  “I’m sorry you were scared,” he murmured, his voice just slightly thick. “I’m really fine.”

  “I know. I just wish I could make you feel better. But I promise I’ll try not to fuss over you too much. I know it’s annoying. I just do it automatically.”

  His arm tightened around her. “That’s because you’re my little mouse.”

  She couldn’t rouse the appropriate indignation for this remark, but she made a half-hearted attempt. “I’m not a mouse.”

  “Yeah, you are.” His voice was so fond and the memory so powerful that she couldn’t possibly resent it. “Always busy, busy, busy, trying to make everything better.”

  Ridiculously, she felt close to tears again. “I wish I could make everything better.”

  Caleb didn’t answer immediately, and when he did, it wasn’t what she expected. He stroked her hair lightly, his touch so gentle it broke her heart. “You have no idea how much better you make things.”

  After a pause, he added, “I’m really glad you’re here.”

  ***

  “The movie was pretty good, wasn’t it?” Marissa asked rather breathlessly.


  After three days, Caleb was fully recovered from his mild concussion, with only some lingering scratches on his face, so they’d gone out to dinner and a movie to celebrate before they’d ended up back in her living room.

  He grunted out some sort of response. His mouth was otherwise occupied, however, and he didn’t appear to be paying much attention to the conversation anyway.

  “I liked the way they handled the romance,” she tried again, leaning back on the arm of the couch in what she liked to refer to as her usual position. “It was very—” She gasped harshly before she concluded, “realistic.”

  Caleb was in his usual position as well. On top of her. “Mmm hmm.”

  The vibrations from his hum against her throat spiraled down through her body, making her shudder.

  Wriggling beneath him, she said, “We can have sex now if you want.”

  This made him raise his face from her neck and fix glazed eyes on her. “Marissa,” he began slowly.

  “I’m ready,” she insisted, giving him a brave smile. Her heart pounded violently, but she really did want to have sex tonight. She’d been thinking about it for the last few days—ever since her appointment with the therapist and the accident. “We’ve waited long enough.”

  “Marissa,” Caleb began again, his face tense and unreadable. “I don’t want you to do this just to do it. I want it to be because we really want to.”

  “I do really want to.” It was true. She was already very aroused, and she wanted more than anything to ease the heightening pressure between her legs. More than that, she wanted to be close to Caleb. Wanted to please him. To be with him in the most intimate way. So what if she was still scared? She still wanted to do this. “Don’t you?”

  He smothered a burst of laughter. “Maybe a little. But to ease my mind that you aren’t just pushing yourself into it to give me some relief, why don’t we start with something in between foreplay and actual intercourse?”

  Marissa remembered him coming under her hand. “Okay. Like we did the other night? We can do that again.”