Intimate (20 page)

But before he
could get any words out, she pulled down his head and claimed his lips in
another kiss.

In the
sweetness of her mouth, Caleb forgot about everything else. Only tried to
contain his urgency—since he knew this wasn’t going any further tonight.

She made little
sounds in her throat as they kissed, and a warmth flooded through him as he
realized they were sounds of pleasure.

Surely this was
some sign of how pathetic he’d become—that he was so childishly proud that his
touch was finally pleasing her.

But he was.
Childishly proud. And shamelessly excited. And achingly aroused. And swept with
a primal dominance that urged him to rip off her clothes and claim her in the
most primitive of ways—by sinking into her tight, hot body.

It seemed
impossible for him to feel all of these emotions at once. But he did. All of
them.

As their kiss
deepened even further, he heard himself grunting something in
return—instinctively responding to every pretty whimper she made.

Now she was
rocking beneath him, her shoulders, back, and hips caught up in rhythmic,
unconscious motion.

He knew it was
a sign that she was growing aroused, was mirroring the motion of sex. And he
also knew it was a sign they needed to stop.

If they didn’t
stop now, he wasn't sure how he could hold himself back.

Tearing his
mouth away from hers, he lifted his head a few inches and panted, “Marissa.”

The skin on her
face and neck was beautifully flushed, and Caleb couldn’t help but exult at the
hot look in her eyes. “We should stop,” Marissa gasped, her hips still rocking
a little—as if she couldn’t keep them still. “I know.”

Because he
wasn’t nearly as selfless as she apparently thought he was, he made sure not to
close down all possibilities. “It’s up to you. But if we don’t stop now…”

“I know. We
should stop now.”

***

Caleb finished his lengthy, late
evening workout session by pounding the hell out of a heavy bag in the gym of his
well-equipped apartment building. As he threw punch after hard punch, he tried
to work out another week's worth of frustration.

He really did
need to get it together. Soon. So he’d gone a few weeks without sex. It had
happened before. He was certainly capable of holding himself together until Marissa
was ready.

Not that he
felt
capable. He felt like a volcano about to erupt. Had eruptions—of the solo
variety—at least twice a day for the last couple of weeks.

They barely
took the edge off.

It seemed brutally
ironic and rather unjust. He’d gone years without lusting after Marissa at all,
and suddenly, now that his feelings had changed, he was like a horny adolescent
who could barely keep it in his pants.

Maybe this was
some sort of cosmic payback for all the years he’d been fool enough to think he
wasn’t attracted to her.

Trying not to
lose his carefully controlled form and body position, he leveled another jab at
the heavy bag. Then another. Hoped to eventually grow exhausted enough to be
able to sleep without dreaming about her.

“Hey you,” a
light, cheerful voice called from the other side of the gym. “Working out your
frustration on that poor bag?”

He whirled
around, startled by Marissa’s familiar voice. She stood in the doorway—looking
fresh and pretty in blue and tan. Caleb was unsettled by her unexpected
appearance.

She worried when
he did things that might damage his hands.

Plus he was
very, very sweaty right now.

His t-shirt was
plastered to his back and chest, and perspiration streamed down his face and neck.
“Hey. I didn’t know you were going to drop by.”

She’d been walking
over toward him as he spoke. “Class got done early, and I hadn’t seen you all
day. I missed you.”

He smiled back
at her and went over to the table where some clean towels were neatly folded so
we could wiped himself off and make himself more presentable.

Before he could
follow through with this plan, she grabbed his wrist and pulled off the glove.

“My hands are
fine, Marissa. I just hadn’t taped them well enough that one time.”

She shot him a
narrow-eyed look before she focused on his hand again. Very gently, she untaped
it and studied his fingers and palm.

It was redder
than normal but not swollen or bruised.

“Told you,” he
said.

This comment
got the eye-roll it deserved.

To his
surprise, she lifted his hand to her mouth and gently kissed the back of his
fingers. “I just worry about you.”

“I know you
do.”

“You don’t
always take care of yourself the way you should.”

In that past,
that had definitely been true, but he thought he was doing better now. “I’m
fine, Marissa.”

She was busy
unwrapping his other hand and inspecting its condition.

“You don’t have
to worry about me,” he told her.

“I know. But I
do anyway. I can’t help it.” Her blue eyes were very soft.

Her tenderness
prompted a tightness in his chest he still wasn’t really used to, so he turned
around to put his gloves on the table behind him.

Without
warning, he felt arms wrap around him from behind. “You look all studly and
filled with testosterone tonight,” she murmured, pressing her body into his
sweaty back.

He chuckled,
feeling inordinately pleased by her words and actions. He turned around until
her arms had settled around his waist. “I thought sweaty might not do it for
you.”

From the little
she’d told him, her ideas about sex were that it was dirty and sweaty and ugly.
He didn’t want her to even for a moment believe that was true of what they had
between them.

She looked
slightly embarrassed, but edged a little closer to him. “Honestly, I’ve never
found it hot before.”

She pressed her
little body even closer to him, in a way that guaranteed she wouldn’t stay
entirely clean and fresh, and lifted her face to his even more insistently.

Marissa was obviously
asking him for a kiss. Always obliging, he kissed her.

“God, Caleb,” Marissa
gasped, when she pulled away. “I love when you’re like this.”

“Like what? Hot
and sweaty and not smelling very good?”

She burst into
rippling laughter. “I absolutely adore you, Caleb. You know that, don't you?”

“Yeah. And that
goes both ways.”

*
* *

“You’ve got to stop pushing me
about this,” Caleb said into his phone, keeping his voice down so the other
musicians milling around wouldn’t hear.

The orchestra’s
evening performance had just ended, and he’d noticed Baron James had called
while his phone was off, so he returned the call immediately before he went to
find Marissa. She was waiting for him in the lobby, since she and a friend had
attended the performance.

“I’m not
pushing,” James replied. “I just need to know if you’re serious or just
stringing me along as a backup plan.”

“I’m not stringing
you along, but I told you I need some time to think about it.”

“I know that.
But you’re starting a new relationship, and it would make sense for you to not want
to drop everything to tour for a year. You’re obviously my first choice for the
band, but I need to make plans either way. I don’t need a final decision right
now, but can you tell me whether there’s at least a fifty-fifty chance you’ll
accept?”

Caleb felt
suddenly put on the spot, and he hated feeling that way.

He had no idea
whether the band was something he really wanted to do or whether it appealed to
him just because it was different, new, far removed from the stress and
complexity of his real life.

He’d stopped at
the edge of the lobby so he could finish the conversation before he met up with
Marissa, but she must have seen him anyway because now she was approaching.

“Yes, it’s at
least fifty-fifty. Now I really have to go.”

He was able to
hang up before Marissa reached him.

“Where’s
Kelly,” he asked, reaching out to pull her close to him and kiss her briefly on
the lips.

“She had to get
up early tomorrow so she took off. She really enjoyed the performance, though.”
She smiled at him affectionately. “So did I. You were wonderful.”

“If you’re tired,
we don’t have to go have drinks,” he said, noticing that she looked a little
pale and that there were dark shadows under her eyes.

“I
am
kind of tired, but I don’t mind going if you need to schmooze.”

“I don’t much
want to, but I probably should.” He hated that aspect of being part of the
orchestra, maybe more than anything else. He hated being charming with rich
people he didn’t care a thing about, just to improve the chances of their
supporting the symphony.

“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.