In Good Company: Chapter 27

The first glass of wine took the edge off being around Cal.

The second glass of wine was probably a mistake.

I’m still fully aware of every decision I’m making. The problem is the wine has cleared my mind just enough that all I can focus on is the man sitting next to me at the kitchen island.

Cal insisted we sit here instead of at the kitchen table. He said he wanted to be closer to me so he could have a front-row seat to me trying the meal he mostly prepared by himself, with my guidance.

I didn’t think much of his request, but now I’m wondering if I should’ve insisted on sitting at the table.

At least then, there’d be a barrier between us. His knee wouldn’t keep bumping against mine. I wouldn’t feel the press of his thigh against mine as he widens his stance in his chair.

I stare at my plate, more food left on it than I thought there’d be. It’s not like I’m not hungry or the food isn’t good. Cal’s meal is very impressive.

I’m just too caught up in being so close to him to be able to stomach anything.

As if he can read my mind, Cal’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “Is my cooking really that bad?”

I’m nervous to look at him. My body is buzzing with electricity, and I already know meeting his deep blue gaze will further light my body on fire.

I shake my head, staring down at my plate like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “The food’s amazing, Cal.”

He lets out a deep, throaty laugh. I remember when I felt the exhale of his laughter against my lips. I want to feel it again.

“You could’ve fooled me,” he responds. “You’ve barely touched what I made.”

I can’t fight the pull to look at him any longer. My eyes meet his, and just like I expected, a bolt of desire runs through me.

“I promise what you made is perfect.”

“You’re perfect.” His eyes slip to my lips. He doesn’t hide the fact he’s staring at them. In fact, he keeps his gaze pinned on my lips for far too long.

My heart pounds at his words—or maybe it’s the way he stares at my mouth like it’s the only thing that matters in the world.

“Cal,” I get out, my tongue darting out to wet my lips.

“Don’t,” he rasps, his eyes meeting mine.

“Don’t what?” My skin prickles with need. I want to feel more than the press of his thigh against mine, no matter how bad of an idea it is.

“Don’t say my name like that.” Apparently, he can’t fight the sizzling tension between us either. He turns in his chair so that he’s facing me directly. Our knees bump against each other with the new position, his legs suddenly encroaching on my personal space.

I don’t fight it. I don’t move. I can’t. Not with the way he looks at me. All protests of why it’s a bad idea to give in to my attraction to this man leave my mind the moment our eyes meet.

“How did I say your name?” I whisper, unable to make my voice any louder than that. My cheeks feel hot, and desire courses through my veins at the proximity of our bodies.

He tortures me by not answering my question. Or maybe the torture is the way he adjusts his body. He places his legs on either side of mine, caging me in completely. Now, his inner thighs press against my outer thighs.

“Like you’re hungry for something that isn’t this meal.”

My eyes widen, and my cheeks flush. I know I’m toeing a very dangerous line right now. I’m the one who didn’t want to talk about the kiss with him and pretend like it never happened. I’m the one who ran out in the first place. He hasn’t hidden the fact that he wants to kiss me again. The problem is, I can’t pretend anymore. Right now, all the reasons I felt we couldn’t kiss again feel insignificant.

I straighten my back as my need for him takes over. For right now, I don’t need to think rationally. I just need him.

“What am I hungry for, then?” I dare to ask, my entire body tight as I wait for him to answer.

He smiles, and I swear that cocky grin is like a caress against my skin. Heat runs from my head to my feet, making my toes curl inside my shoes. I wait with bated breath for him to speak, needing to know what his answer will be.

Instead of answering, he grabs onto the seat of my barstool and pulls me closer to him. The legs make a loud scratching sound against the hardwood.

At this point, I swear he’s got to be able to hear the sound of my racing heart. It beats so loudly that there’s a whooshing sound filling my ears.

“I still need to figure out what exactly you’re hungry for.”

His fingertips dance along my knee as he traces circles on my skin. “Is it my touch?” he asks, his voice deep and hoarse. My entire body shivers underneath his touch. I didn’t know just the simple connection of skin somewhere so innocent could make heat pool low in my abdomen.

I don’t know if I’m thankful for wearing a tennis skirt to work or if I regret it. Either way, the short fabric makes it easy for him to trail his fingers up my thigh.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t want this,” Cal says. His voice comes out strained. His eyes scan my face, searching.

I shake my head. “I can’t.”

His eyes darken at my response. I stifle a moan when he applies even more pressure against my inner thigh, his fingertips getting dangerously close to the part of me that’s most desperate for him.

“Then tell me you want this. Tell me you’re hungry for anything I’ll give you.”

My eyes flutter shut at his words. They aren’t exactly dirty, but my body reacts like they are. “Yes,” I manage to get out, my voice thick with lust.

I know it’s a bad idea to do this with Cal. I’m already more attached to him than I should be. He’s gotten underneath my skin and burrowed deep. The witty banter, prolonged looks, and unnecessary but wanted touches have broken me down. Nothing can change the reality that I have to go home at the end of this summer. We live two very different lives. Nothing can come of this attraction between us.

But is it really that bad to give in to the tension just for the summer?

Cal’s calloused fingers inch higher and higher on my inner thigh and under my skirt. One of his knuckles brushes against my clit, making my hips buck in my seat.

He chuckles, the sound coming from deep in his chest. “You are eager for my touch.” He touches me there again, but this time purposefully and with his fingertip. “Very eager for me with how wet you are. You’re soaked through your panties, baby.”

I let out a loud moan as I squeeze my eyes shut. It already feels like too much with him, and barely anything has happened between us.

His warm, big hands find either side of my waist as he lifts me off my chair and pulls me into his lap. I yelp, my eyes flying open in surprise. His hands slide down my back and grip my ass as he pulls my legs over him.

I’m straddling Callahan Hastings.

There are layers of fabric between us, but it’s impossible to miss the way his length brushes up against my core. I moan at the feel of him there, immediately wishing there was nothing between us at all.

Our gazes lock. Cal’s blue eyes stare deeply into mine as I rock my hips against his once.

His body goes tense underneath mine as he sucks in a deep breath. “Fuck,” he mutters. He keeps one hand splayed on my ass while the other travels up my back. His fingers twist in my hair, directing me to keep my eyes pinned on him.

“I want this,” I tell him. Something about the way he looks at me tells me he needs to hear the words. Maybe I need to hear myself say them. It’s me accepting that this connection between us is undeniable, and I’m tired of pretending it isn’t.

“Good fucking answer,” he grits, leaning close and running his nose against mine. My entire body shakes with anticipation.

I didn’t intend for this to happen tonight. I came to work thinking Cal and I could pretend everything was normal and nothing had happened between us at the pool party. I was foolish for thinking that. I’ve never had this kind of connection with anyone. I’m allowed to explore it—even if it’s just for the summer.

“You hungrier for my touch or my lips?” The words are whispered against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

“Both.” I turn my head, trying to make our lips connect. He doesn’t give in. He continues to tease me by just barely running his lips along the tender spot behind my ear.

“I meant here,” he announces, moving his hand from my ass to between my thighs.

My head falls back in pleasure. “I want you to kiss me,” I tell him. Or maybe it isn’t me telling him—maybe it’s me begging.

Cal shocks me by lifting me by the hips once again and placing me on the counter. A wine glass falls to the ground with the abruptness of his actions, and the chair scrapes against the floor as he stands to his full height.

The entire time, he keeps his eyes on me.

I love it when he looks at me like this—like I’m the only thing that matters to him. That’s the thing about Cal. It’s hard to get his attention, even harder to keep it, but when you have it, it’s hard not to feel like the most powerful person in the world.

He spreads my legs wide open, cold air hitting my inner thighs. A loud, unfiltered moan leaves my lips when he slides his fingers underneath the fabric of my panties.

“Is this where you want me to kiss you, Lucy baby?”