His gaze locked with hers above the book she pretended to read—full of passion, full of invitation before he turned and headed into the bathroom. The door closed but he didn’t lock it.
Ellie put her book aside and slowly climbed out of bed. She walked toward the door, but her hand hesitated on the doorknob. Could she really do this? Could she go after what her body desired, even if she was unsure what her heart wanted?
She turned the knob and pushed the door open, entering slowly, her heartbeat echoing in her ears. Callum stood under the water spray, eyes closed, head back, his body shielded from sight from the steam on the glass shower door. She quickly removed her clothes, letting them fall to the floor with his. Then, before she could rethink it or overthink it or lose her nerve, she opened the shower door.
His surprise quickly melted away to intrigue then desire as his gaze took in her naked body.
“Can I join you?” she asked, happy that her voice sounded far stronger and more confident than she felt.
He ran his hands over his wet face and hair. “You sure you want to do that?” he asked gruffly, turning toward her. His erection was already on full display.
Was she? Absolutely not...but she was going to anyway. She nodded.
He stepped out of the spray and invited her in. She stepped under, the hot water stealing her breath and then Callum’s arms around her making it catch in her chest as her body pressed up against his. “What do you want, Ellie?”
She had no idea. “Kiss me.” Seemed like a good place to start.
Callum gripped the back of her neck and tilted her face upward as he slowly lowered his mouth to hers. He tasted salty from sweat and his lips were soft, but his kiss was hard, demanding. The kiss of a man who’d been thinking about this moment too long, had craved it and was now taking it. Ellie deepened the kiss, standing on tiptoes and wrapping her arms around his neck. His hard length against her leg made it all the more intoxicating as her tongue slid between his lips and explored his mouth.
He moaned as he held her tighter.
She pulled back, slightly breathless, and opened her eyes slowly. His gaze burned into hers. “Now what?” he asked.
“Touch me,” she said.
“Where? Be specific.”
“My breasts,” she said, swallowing hard.
His hands moved down her neck, over her shoulders, down her chest until they cupped both breasts tenderly. Softly he massaged her wet skin, and the sensations tingling through her were intense as a desperate need arose inside of her. “Harder,” she said.
He squeezed as he massaged, then moved his fingers toward the nipples, pinching gently at first, then with more pressure. She moaned as she felt herself grow wet between the legs. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had touched her like this. It had been far too long. “Do you like this?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Where else do you want me to touch you?”
She moved away and leaned her body against the cool shower wall and spread her legs wide. She reached for his hand and pressed it against her mound. He moved close, sliding his fingers along her wet folds as he lowered his mouth toward hers again. The pressure of his fingers at her entry made her breathing slightly labored as she waited for him to kiss her. He didn’t. Instead, he ran a thumb along her bottom lip seductively. “Can I kiss you?”
She nodded.
“Not here,” he said, releasing her lip. “Here.” He plunged a finger inside her body.
Holy shit. Her entire body twitched with desire as she nodded her agreement. “Yes, please.”
Callum knelt in front of her and lifted her legs onto his shoulders; holding her ass, he buried his head between her legs. His warm breath against her skin made her shiver. His fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs as his tongue licked along the folds of her opening. She shut her eyes tight, savoring the pleasurable sensations coursing through her. It felt so incredible. So unbelievable. Callum was going down on her, and never in her wildest imagination had she seen this coming. He sucked her clit and her breathing grew ragged as her orgasm mounted. She gripped his shoulders tight as her head fell backward and she arched her back, desperate to get even closer to the pleasure. His tongue dipped inside of her body and she clenched her thighs tighter around his head. It wasn’t nearly enough. She craved the pressure of him inside of her. Longed to feel him fill her. “Callum, I want you inside of me...”
He took his time lifting his head away from her and glancing up at her. “Now?”
She nodded urgently and he gently set her back on the shower stall floor, then scooped her up into his arms. He carried her out of the bathroom and placed her dripping wet body onto the bed, then his body fell on top of hers. He supported his weight on his arms and she once again marveled at the sculpted, sexy muscles of his upper body. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes on. And she was the lucky one who had his attention, his gentle touch, his loving gaze, his patience and eagerness to please her.
She ran her hands over his arms and shoulders and chest, wanting to touch him everywhere. He felt so incredible, so strong, so real... He could have any woman he wanted, so how had she gotten so lucky to be here with him, like this?
“You are perfect, Ellie,” he said, staring into her eyes, echoing the thoughts she had about him.
She couldn’t wait any longer, her desire overwhelming her. She opened her legs for him and he wedged his lower body between them. He pressed his cock against her opening and buried his face into her neck. She held her breath as she felt the tip of him slide into her body, and she stilled, hesitating.
“What’s wrong?” he murmured against her ear.
“Condom?”
Leaning on his elbows, he looked her in the eyes and smiled. “We don’t need one. This is all just your fantasy, Ellie.”
She blinked. And when her eyes opened, he was gone.
Breathing hard, she sat up in the bed and looked around the dark, empty cottage. A thin stream of moonlight cast a glow across the floor and chaise lounge near the window. It too was empty. She was all alone. It had been a dream. An amazing fantasy of Callum. Never in her life had she had a dream so vivid, so real, so amazingly perfect. One that had left her body trembling with desire.
She groaned as she fell back into the pillows.
What the hell was happening to her? And why had she woken up just as things were getting good? Her body still ached with the unfulfilled craving and the image of Callum’s naked body. The way he’d hungrily gone down on her, his passion and desire for her as he’d touched her and kissed her, and the way his body had felt pressed into hers, had her clenching her thighs together tight beneath the bedsheets.
Damn.
There was no denying her physical attraction for her coworker, and she now knew her emotions were there, as well. Things had changed between them that week—for her, anyway. Things had heated up on so many levels.
He’d claimed to have always had feelings for her. All the flirting, all the time they’d spent together in the bookstore, all the late-night check-in texts when he knew she was awake. He knew her better than anyone else in her life because he listened to her, respected her, cared about her. He was the one person in her life she’d always known she could count on. It was odd that she’d never questioned that. That she’d never taken the time to wonder why Callum had been that steady constant in her life all this time.
All of it made sense now. How had she never seen it before? How had she been so blind to what was right in front of her all along? Because she hadn’t wanted to see it. She’d thought she’d known what she wanted all along in Brent, in a redo of the future she’d thought she’d missed out on.
She’d been so incredibly wrong.
Callum was the right man for her. He had been all along. He’d known it and he’d sat back waiting patiently for her to realize it. He’d never
asked her for anything. Never expected anything from her. He’d never given up on her even when he knew she was going after the wrong man.
She certainly was seeing everything so much clearer now, but she’d made a mess of things by pushing him away, by choosing Brent. Her heart dropped into her stomach and a new ache radiated through her body straight to her core. One full of apprehension and regret and longing. What she wouldn’t give to have him there with her right now. To tell him how she felt. To apologize for hurting him and making the wrong choice.
She released a deep breath as she stared through the dark at the chaise lounge where she never should have asked him to sleep.
Was it too late to get her fake fiancé back?
* * *
HIS USUAL BOOTH in the diner. His usual waitress. His laptop open.
Same old routine. Why did it feel so much lonelier now?
He stared out the diner window at the darkness, but his reflection staring back at him in the glass was the only thing he saw. What was he going to do? Twenty-six hadn’t seemed so old before. He hadn’t been in a rush. He’d been enjoying his life and living it his way. But now a slight anxiety took hold when he thought of where he was in his life and his father’s ultimatum.
He turned his attention to the laptop and that damn blinking cursor. What was he even doing with this book? He couldn’t publish it. It was far too personal. Yet Ellie’s advice on how to rewrite the scene that was troubling him had his mind stretching.
His father’s point of view?
Hell, he’d written from the POV of inanimate objects before, this should be easier. In theory. However, it meant seeing a different side. One he’d never acknowledged existed.
He ran a hand through his hair and noticed his coffee cup was full again. Gillian must have refilled it when he was lost staring out the window. Even she must sense he wasn’t in the best of places right now. There’d been no flirting that evening, and she’d left him alone in his thoughts.
He almost wished she wouldn’t. He wasn’t sure he’d find any comfort there, and maybe a little flirting could pull him out of the depressed state he’d been in since leaving the cottage.
His phone vibrated on the table, making him jump.
Sean?
He’d tried reaching his brother that day, but his calls had gone to voice mail and Sean still hadn’t responded to his text. Nothing too unusual—especially at the end of the quarter when the resort workload doubled for him.
Picking the phone up, he felt his heart race at seeing a text from Ellie.
Any wildlife encounters on the way home?
The casual nature of the text just made his heart sink further. She was obviously trying to ignore the fact that there’d been something between them that week and slide back into the friend zone. But he couldn’t do that. And he hated that she could.
Obviously things with Brent must be going well.
He wasn’t looking for sympathy from her or an apology. He’d played the role of doting fiancé willingly, knowing the consequences, so he only had himself to blame for how he was feeling now, the way things had turned out. So, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting from her or this first contact, but this wasn’t it.
And a 1:00 a.m. message meant she was still awake. Immediately, disturbing images of her and Brent together—kissing, touching, lying in bed together in the cottage they’d shared—had his stomach turning.
What the hell, Ellie? Was she trying to torture him?
He turned the phone completely off and tossed it onto the table. The clatter caught Gillian’s attention, and he nodded a silent apology. She sent him a sympathetic look, and he almost called it a night, but the blinking cursor taunted him.
Was there anything he wanted that was within reach?
He closed his eyes tight and tried to put himself in the shoes of the one man for whom he lacked all respect. Opening them again, he started to type.
Weakness. Failure. Waste of potential.
The only things I see when I look at my youngest son...
The wounds in his heart, those he’d thought were scabbed over, reopened as the words appeared on the page. He typed for hours, until he had to stop, not out of a lack of words but out of fear that if he continued, he might start to understand his father a little better.
CHAPTER TWENTY
COULD THE DRIVE back to Wild River the next morning be any more awkward? If there had been another way to get home, Ellie would have opted for it. Obviously the rest of the group could feel the strained vibe coming from her and Brent as he sat in the SUV’s front passenger seat next to Nick and she sat in the far back, her gaze out the window.
The familiar scenery whizzed past, but nothing felt the same. So much had changed for her during the trip, and even though she was headed home, she felt like she was embarking on a new path. She needed to make some changes.
Had there ever been a time when she’d felt more embarrassed? If there had, she did not want to recall it. She’d spent the rest of the day before in her own cottage reading and had only popped into the main lodge to grab some food to go at dinnertime. She hadn’t spoken much to the group, but she suspected Brent had filled them in on the current status quo.
They all must think she was so pathetic. First, inventing a fake boyfriend/fiancé to not look bad at the reunion. Then, falling back into the arms of her ex only to realize he wasn’t the guy she thought he was or wanted.
Thank God for her dark sunglasses.
The worst part was that she’d hurt Callum. And for what?
She hadn’t heard from him since he’d left two days before. He’d ignored her text, and as much as she wanted to continue to reach out, she couldn’t have their next conversation be by text or over the phone. She needed to see him and tell him that she’d been wrong, she’d been a fool to let him go, and hope that there was still a chance for them.
Not that she deserved it.
She groaned inwardly.
How could she have been so blind to what she’d had right in front of her this whole time? How could she have held on to the past so long that it had prevented her from moving forward? How many potentially great relationships had she missed out on because she’d compared other men to Brent, when there shouldn’t have been a comparison?
She’d spent far too much time living in the past, and that needed to stop. Unfortunately, now that she was ready to move forward, she may be too late to take a leap of faith with the man she really wanted.
“You okay?” Alisha whispered next to her.
She nodded, because she didn’t trust her voice not to break if she tried to tell the truth.
* * *
IF HE DIDN’T NEED to open the bookstore that morning, Callum would have stayed in bed all day. His head throbbed and his stomach was unstable. He’d been out too late, drunk far too much coffee and knew that the woman he loved was probably curled up in bed, rekindling a spark with her ex-boyfriend right now. Nothing could erase the troublesome images of Ellie and Brent from his mind.
Unlocking the door to the store an hour later, his chest was heavy with dread. This would likely be one of his final shifts at the store. He couldn’t continue working here with Ellie now. Whatever happened or didn’t happen between her and Brent, he couldn’t see her every day, be around her every day and go back to the way things had been before that week.
Nothing was the same.
He’d put himself out there and she’d rejected him.
But, damn, he’d miss working with her. Before, at least he’d had the vague hope that someday things between them would change. They certainly had, but not in the way he’d wanted.
He’d miss the store too. For two years, working there had been amazing. He loved being around the books, feeling the inspiration from decades of creation. He’d just have to spend more time at the library.
He sighed a
s he tossed his keys onto the counter, noticing a stack of boxes of a new release in the center aisle. Grabbing a box cutter, he carefully opened the top one. It would help ease his guilt over quitting if he could at least get a lot of work done first.
But after opening the box, his heart ached even more. The new release from Amelia Dash. His mother’s pen name. She only released a book every few years, and she was far from a famous, bestselling author, yet every time Callum saw a new book with her name on it, his emotions battled between a strong sense of pride and happiness that she’d fulfilled her dream and hurt and disappointment that he couldn’t reach out and tell her.
What would she say if she knew he had inherited her passion? Would she be proud of him?
He turned the book over in his hands and stared at the author photo. She looked years younger than she had the last time he’d seen her, and she looked happy. That made him feel better at least. He read the bio on the back...
“Married, mother of four, living in Colorado...”
Mother of four, but only ever really a mother to two. Not that he held her responsible for that.
His cell phone rang, and seeing his father’s number on call display, he silenced it and sent it to voice mail. He’d have to talk to his father soon...but this morning he just couldn’t deal with the bullshit and pressure to make a decision.
He finished unpacking the new books and made sure to turn them face out on the shelf. Grabbing a copy for himself, he stashed it behind the counter. Then he broke down the empty cardboard boxes and carried them out back to the recycle bin.
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