I jerk my head back and look at her with a question in my gaze. She stares back at me, eyes hot but teeth now chattering audibly.
“Fuck,” I mutter, turning to the bank of the pond. “You’re freezing.”
“J-j-j-u-s-t a little,” she stutters.
I walk two paces and lower her to the edge of the shore, where she gingerly finds purchase in the grass. She looks down at her feet. “M-m-m-y-y-y s-s-s-and-al.”
Huh?
I look down and note that one of her shoes is missing. I’m spurred into action, pointing at her tailgate. “Get out of those clothes so we can at least wring the water out. I’ll get your shoe.”
Calliope’s fingers start working at the buttons of her shirt, and for a moment, I’m lost. She’s not looking at me, but at the buttons she’s fumbling with, and I wait with my breath stuck in my lungs as the first two pop free.
Her head lifts, and she tilts it in question.
“Fuck,” I mutter and turn away, going back down to my knees in the water so my hands can move along the silt at the bottom. I push through wet leaves, sticks, and God knows what other kind of crud has settled at the bottom. As I move along, finding my Cinderella’s lost shoe seems hopeless, but then I catch hold of the smooth, leather band. I didn’t pay much attention to them before, but when I pull it out of the mud with a squelching sound and plenty of suction, I note regretfully that it’s probably ruined.
I turn to her and hold up the hidden treasure I located for her, only to find her bent over and shimmying out of her wet jeans. A lacy thong and a shapely ass are revealed, curves that I know all too well. My body reacts despite the cold water and my own wet jeans, my cock starting to thicken at the sight of her.
She finally gets them off and is almost naked save for the thong and a matching lace bra. She turns toward me, and I’m not quite sure what my face reveals, but her chattering teeth stop, and she flushes from her cheeks down to the rounded globes of her breasts.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I warn her, taking a step out of the mud toward the bank.
“Like what?” she asks, and…yeah, she’s not cold now. Heat and challenge are clear in her voice.
I don’t bother answering her. It’s rhetorical anyway.
When my foot hits the bank, I drop her sandal to the grass and immediately pull my wet T-shirt over my head.
Because you know...I need to wring it out, too.
Except I drop it to the ground, and it hits with a wet splat.
We stare at each other, each silently demanding something of the other. Are we on the same page? Does she want me the way I want her?
My silent question is answered when her trembling hands move to the center clasp of her bra, and with practiced ease, she flicks it open. The wet lace clings to her skin, so she has to peel it away. Her breasts spring free, nipples pebbled hard. I groan.
“You’re beautiful, Poppy.”
She doesn’t chastise me again for using the nickname that was solely mine to use for her. Instead, with a bold look of determination, her thumbs go to the band on her thong, and she bends forward to inch the lace down her golden thighs.
I think I may have died and gone to heaven as her breasts sway with the motion. She steps out of the thong with such delicate grace that I’m mesmerized. My gaze narrows and focuses on the apex of her thighs. Trim, dark curls wet from the water glisten, and I hope what’s nestled deeper is just as wet.
I move toward her with purpose, one hand going to her neck to hold her in place for my mouth, the other going straight to a plump breast.
Calliope groans and arches her damp body into me. My cock starts to ache with need.
Our kiss turns instantly ravenous, no more hesitant exploring and getting reacquainted. Everything I ever knew about this woman immediately feels like a comforting blanket. I trace the curve of her breast, flicking her nipple with my thumb.
“Rafe,” she moans into my mouth as her hand latches on to my wrist. She pushes my hand down so it glides over her belly and moves right between her thighs.
She is no different than the woman I knew eight years ago. One of the things I loved most about her was that she could be demanding and never hesitated to let me know exactly what she wanted.
My fingers play with the lips of her sex, then find the warm, wet entrance and dip inside. With a feral growl, Calliope bites down hard on my lower lip. Suddenly, my jeans are way too tight.
It’s a good thing she’s feeling greedy because, in mere moments, her hands free my cock. I don’t bother to wonder at her dexterity as she makes short work of my zipper and pushes the wet material down over my hips just enough so she can take my length into her palm. I hiss as she grips me hard and starts to stroke. And because I can give as good as I get, I press two fingers into her pussy and stroke that sweet spot deep inside.
That’s all it takes before she’s climbed back up my body, maneuvering up so high that her arms press down into my shoulders so she can angle herself above me. I spin to the edge of her Pathfinder and set my naked ass on it. Planting my feet hard against the ground, I brace myself as Calliope takes my cock in hand and starts to guide it to her entrance.
The first touch of her heat against the head of my dick is nirvana, and my hips strain upward for more contact. Her knees move to the cargo platform and she balances herself with her hands on my shoulders as she works her way onto my cock. I look down in fascination as I start to disappear into her, my head fuzzy, and my blood pounding in my ears. I glance up, see the look of fierce determination in her eyes, and fall a little bit in love with her again as her tongue peeks out from between her teeth in concentration.
Slowly, she lowers herself onto me, my one-time true heartmate and the sexiest lover I’ve ever had. She grinds all the way down as a tiny huff of exultant air escapes her mouth and blows across my face.
When she bottoms out, her forehead comes to rest against mine, and she holds utterly still for a painful moment.
My cock pulses inside of her, straining for release. I’m dizzy with lust and the need to flip her over and fuck her hard.
But I know one thing.
This is all Calliope right now. She has to set the boundaries of what we are. I need to let her be in control. Even if she were to climb off my lap and proclaim this to be a mistake, I would let her do so without an ounce of regret.
That’s how grateful I am that she trusts me enough to let me back in.
Calliope sucks in a deep lungful of air, and when she lets it out, her mouth is back on mine. Her body starts to move, and she rises and falls on me.
She’s so warm and tight, my nuts feel like they’re going to implode. She fucks me slowly and with a tenderness that crushes my heart, knowing how difficult it must be for her to give that to the man who destroyed her.
My arms band around her tightly, and I kiss her with reverence. Tiny little moans slither out of her, and her movements become hurried...frantic. I want to hold back, let this play out for hours if possible, but I can feel the rush of an orgasm straining to break free. All those years disappear as I remember all the signals that indicate that Calliope is as close as I am.
The panting breaths, the yearning sounds deep in her chest. My hands move to her hips, and I help her in her quest to get to the same place as me. I pick her up, slam her back down so she feels me deeply.
Calliope grunts, bites down hard on her lip, and starts to bounce. My cock swells, my balls drawing inward as I feel that first ripple of pleasure through her pussy. Grabbing onto my shaft and sucking me in deep, I let loose with a hoarse cry of release.
She grinds down on me, hard, her entire body shuddering with her orgasm, her head falling back. I watch her with awe as pleasure ripples across her beautiful face, and her body quakes beneath my hands.
In this moment, I am validated, knowing that I never stopped loving Calliope.
Only now, I know I love her more than I ever did.
Chapter 8
Calliope
What in the hell possessed me to climb Rafe and have sex with him?
Sure, I could reason that it’s been an emotional time for both of us since he got back—him with his dad, and me, well...being conflicted about him being back in my life.
I could say that I was addled by the cold dunk in Podden’s pond and was overcome with a fit of the sillies. I’ve always been slightly impetuous.
Or maybe...just maybe...there’s something still there between us that can’t be reasoned or explained.
I’m not going to lie. It helped to hear Rafe’s explanation of what happened back then.
I mean, it was a stupid explanation. About as dumb as a man can get, making decisions for his woman without any type of discussion. But there is something to be said for the fact that we were young—both barely eighteen. Even though it was entirely demeaning for him to make that decision on his own, I can’t deny that it came from a place of love.
He’d said he was just as devastated by his decision, but the real question remains...can I believe it?
Another sigh, and I push away from the door. I need a shower and a cup of hot tea to think on this further.
I move through my small but entirely cozy apartment that I’ve lovingly decorated and filled over the years with homey items that make it uniquely my own. Soft alpaca pillows on my couch, a goofy painting of a cow wearing a red toboggan on his head over my mantel, and Yankee candles in every room, ready to lend mood-enhancing scents whenever I want.
My shower is delightful and long, and I wash my hair three times to make sure it’s free of pond scum. I shave my legs, horrified they were slightly stubbly while having sex with Rafe, but also figuring he’s felt my stubbly legs before. He used to tease me about it if I forgot to shave. I dry my hair, taking the time to blow it out, which means it will be styled perfectly tomorrow after I sleep on it. My thick hair always looks best on day two after a good shampoo. I slather lotion on my body, dress in a pair of comfy yoga pants and an off-the-shoulder T-shirt that’s so well worn it’s transparent in some spots, and move to the kitchen to make some strawberry hibiscus tea.
With steaming cup in hand and a few shortbread cookies on a paper towel to accompany it, I settle onto the couch to fire up my Kindle. Maybe getting immersed in a good book will help take my mind off my problems.
Mainly, how a gorgeous hockey star rocked my world a bit earlier, and how I don’t even know how to deal with it.
I flip through my to-be-read list, purposely staying away from romances. I don’t want anything to potentially make me swoon with possibility.
A knock on my apartment door startles me, but I swing my legs off my couch, figuring it’s probably Mrs. Filmore from next door, bringing over some new baked goods recipe she’s tried out. Her husband died last year, and she moved into the apartment next to mine, wanting to downsize and be closer to her daughter and grandkids, who actually live not too far from my parents’ house.
I swing open the door, eager to see Mrs. Filmore because she’s an excellent baker, but am stunned stupid when I see Rafe standing there with two grocery bags in hand.
I left him at his parents’ house not more than an hour and a half ago. There was no kiss goodbye, only a promise to call me later. I didn’t know what to—or if I should—read into that. The kiss would have implied some lingering affection; the lack of implying the sex was a one-time-only thing, and perhaps a mistake. Yet the promise to call spoke to wanting to see me again. Or maybe we’d just go back to being tentative friends.
Ugh. So confusing. In the moment, the only thing I can think to say is, “What are you doing here?”
“I missed you, too,” he replies with a sly grin, pushing his way into my apartment.
“Why don’t you come on in?” I mutter sarcastically and close the door, noting how good he smells as he passes me. “But, seriously...why are you here?”
Rafe takes a moment to survey my small apartment and then moves into the kitchen. He holds up the grocery bags. “I thought we could hang. I brought all the makings for tacos, and we can watch movies or something. Really great apartment, by the way. It’s totally you.”
I pad across the small living area and rest my forearms on the counter that separates it from the kitchen. He starts unloading the bags—ground beef, lettuce, tomatoes, a six-pack of beer.
“Dad’s sleeping, and Mom’s doing some spring cleaning,” he explains as he moves to put the items in my fridge. “She shooed me out of the house, and I thought we could hang.”
“Hang?” I ask skeptically. What does that even mean?
And then it dawns on me.
“Oh,” I drawl in amusement. “You want sex again?”
Rafe pops straight up, looking at me over the refrigerator door, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “You offering?”
“Um,” I reply, unsure of myself.
He grins at me. “As much as you totally rocked my world today at the pond, Poppy, I really just thought we could hang out. Get to know each other again.”
My eyebrows draw inward, and I’m more confused now than ever. I rocked his world? Really?
Why I flush with pride is beyond me, but what makes a girl feel good is what makes a girl feel good.
Rafe shuts the fridge and moves around the kitchen counter to me. He takes my hand in his, covers it with his other, and brings them to his chest, his expression somber. “I know I can’t possibly hope for you to understand what I did to you eight years ago, and I know it’s likely a lot of wishful thinking that you could forgive me completely. But right now, we reconnected, and I want to see where this goes. Today with you has been the best day since I found out about my dad. I guess I just want more of it.”
I’m drowning in his eyes and in his words. He’s saying all the right things, and yet I can’t let go of the feeling that drowning equals danger. He hurt me so badly before, and I know how easy it would be to fall for him again. I also know how quickly he could break my heart once more.
“You said you still care for me.” He references the conversation we had at the pond while sitting in her vehicle. And I realize I do. I really do. I meant that.
“I’m scared, Rafe,” I finally admit to him. “I don’t think you’ll ever understand what you did to me by leaving me behind without any explanation. Yes, you crushed me, but you also killed my self-esteem because I didn’t know what I did wrong.”
“You did nothing wrong,” he assures me.
I nod. “Yes, you said that, and I believe you. But that doesn’t negate all the work I had to do to build myself back up. I’m never going to put myself in a position again to be hurt like that. And, well...if you did it to me once, you could do it again.”
Rafe’s face crumples, not because I’m denying him something but because he feels like shit. I know him so well. I know when he feels awful about something, and I can tell he truly does. Making him feel bad wasn’t my intent, but it’s a bit of a balm to me right now that I think maybe he at least understands.
“But…” I continue because while he scares the shit out of me with the potential for more heartbreak, I can’t deny that I’m happy to have him back in my life. I may have rocked his world at the pond today, but he turned mine upside down and inside out. I’m feeling all kinds of trampy right now that I want him again. “Maybe we can put some boundaries in place to help me feel a bit safer with you.”
Rafe frowns, the implication heavy that he’s a danger to me. “Like what?”
“We make it about sex only,” I say with a slight shrug.
“Sex only, huh?”
“Well, yeah. I mean...that was pretty great at the pond, right? And it took your mind off your troubles. And I totally enjoyed the hell out of it, so we can have a sex-only relationship.”
Rafe takes a step back and withdraws his hand from mine. “Yeah...that’s not going to work fo
r me.”
I blink at him in surprise. “Why ever not?”
He scrubs a hand over his face in frustration and sighs. “Because I need your friendship, too, Poppy. You’ve helped me so much already with dealing with my dad. I mean, if I have to choose between friendship and sex, I would choose…and I feel like a total girl saying this, the friendship.”
My lips quirk upward as my head tilts. “Well, of course, we can be friends, too. You know I love your dad, and I’m always going to be here to support him, you, and your mother. You have that.”
Rafe’s expression turns contemplative for a moment, his eyes shadowing skeptically. “So, let me get this straight... We’re friends again, and we can have no-strings sex?”
“Friends with benefits,” I reply with a brilliant smile. “It’s a win-win situation for us both.”
Rafe chuckles and shakes his head. He peers down at me, and for a moment, I think he might kiss me. Instead, he pivots to walk back into the kitchen. “You’re a strange one, Calliope Ramirez. I guess it’s why I adore you so much.”
“You can’t say things like that,” I point out as he opens the refrigerator and pulls out two bottles of beer.
“Oh, right,” he drawls with a sly look. “That might imply something deeper than just friends with benefits.”
“Exactly,” I reply pertly, accepting the beer he holds out to me. I twist the cap and give him an appraising look. “Want to have sex now or later?”
“Why now, of course,” he replies seriously, setting his bottle of beer down on the counter. “Here? Bedroom? Couch? Floor? So many choices.”
I giggle and set my beer down, too. “Let’s start with the bedroom.”
Chapter 9
Rafe
It’s sort of like old times. Dinner at the Ramirez house. They invited my parents and me over, and Calliope is here, too, of course. I can’t count the number of times throughout my childhood that we ate over here or they came to our house. The Ramirezes and the Simmonses were lifelong friends, their kids growing closer and closer as each year passed.
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