Page 62 of Wild Devotion
“You’re much bossier than you used to be.”
“Get used to it.”
She laughed—quiet, tired, and so goddamn beautiful against my chest. Her hand slid under my shirt to the bare skin above my waistband, her fingers tracing lazy circles that were going to kill me if she didn’t stop.
But her movements started to slow, her body growing heavier against mine. Until finally, her fingers went slack and her breath evened into the steady rhythm of sleep.
I lay in the dark with her weight on my chest and her scent in my lungs. She hadn’t said yes. Hadn’t promised me a damn thing.
But she was here. In my bed. In my arms. Her hand on my skin and her guard all the way down.
And if this was what surrender looked like on Zadie Fisher, then every wall I’d climbed and every rejection I’d swallowed had been worth it.
I pressed my mouth to the top of her head and let myself follow her into sleep.
Tomorrow would bring its own battles. But tonight, she was mine.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Zadie
A low rumbling moan woke me. Like distant thunder, the sound rolled up my spine and erupted softly in my ear.
Caleb’s arm banded tight around my waist, his hardened length pressed against my ass. When he shifted, growling out another stormy sound, a bolt of heat coursed through me, flaring between my thighs.
All his taut, lean muscle rubbed against me. His talented, steady, soothing hand drifted up my stomach and landed firmly on my breast. One light squeeze of his palm and I nearly shattered.
The craving was unbearable. I wanted more. Of his hands. His mouth. His cock. At this point, it wouldn’t take much. Just the flick of his thumb, or the pinch of his fingers.
God, I was beyond desperate.
Very bad things were begging to happen. Very good, very bad things.
But as much as I wanted him—and yes, I could admit I wanted him desperately—I wasn’t ready. My body was miles ahead of the rest of me, and that was the problem.
Caleb deserved more than a willing body. He deserved a woman who was mentally and emotionally present. Not a hormonal wreck who couldn’t stop making rash decisions.
With stealth I barely possessed and rarely used, I eased myself out of his hold. Rolling off the mattress, I was careful not to make a sound as my feet hit the floor and I crept toward his door.
For the second, and hopefully the last time, I squashed my guilty conscience and left Caleb asleep in his bed.
His door closed with a soft click. Mine opened right across the hall.
Less than two hours later, I was showered, dressed, and staring at my phone. The text I’d tried to send Sean last night had reappeared when I’d unlocked the screen.
We need to talk. PLEASE call me.
But once again, my thumb hesitated to hit send.
Why was I begging him? Where the hell was my spine?
I’d been so bent out of shape over my mistakes. So worried about his reaction and what role he’d want to play. I’d forgotten he was just as responsible for this as me. If not more so.
I didn’t need to beg. I should fucking demand.
I hit delete and rewrote it.
We need to talk. Call me ASAP.
