One in a Million

His hands slid down her back and over the cheeks of her ass, lifting her off the ground and firmly into him. “Still cold?” he asked.

No. She was burning up. She could feel every single inch of his very hot body. He was hard and thick against her, straining between them ready for action, and she was just as ready. Hell, she’d been ready since the moment he’d walked through her door. “Not cold,” she said, and his lips curved against hers.

“What are you then?” he asked.

“Desperate.”

“How desperate?”

“Terrifyingly desperate.”

He lifted his head, stared into her eyes, and then stepped into the shower with her. The hot water hit her and only fueled the fire. Pushing him to the back wall, she plastered her body against his, rubbing against him, tasting every inch she could reach. It wasn’t enough so she dropped to her knees and continued her very important work of licking and nibbling.

The sound of his approving groan bounced off the walls as she ran her tongue along the length of him and then sucked him into her mouth. As the water hit them she kept the pace tortuously slow and controlled, much as he’d done with her so many times now, quivering with anticipation for the moment when he’d lose his composure, thread his fingers into her hair, grab a fistful, and take over.

And indeed his hands went into her hair, but not to get a little rough or guide her. Instead, he pulled her away from him, lifted her up, and put his mouth to the soft spot beneath her ear, his lips applying pressure, his tongue reminding her of the wicked things she knew he could with his mouth. Then that mouth slid up to graze his teeth along her earlobe and down again to gently bite into the crook of her neck before laving the spot with his tongue.

Impatient with need, she pushed against him, dying to have him inside of her.

But he took his time, doing as she’d imagined, fisting a hand into her hair, tilting her head to nuzzle her throat.

His other hand teased her nipples before sliding south while his lips alternately nibbled and sucked, driving her crazy but not detracting from where that busy hand was headed.

Between her trembling thighs.

With one finger he traced her, gently rubbing up and down with work-roughened fingertips.

Her heart kicked hard. Her pulse was already racing, racing, racing, and she heard her own voice, hoarse with desire. “Tanner, please.”

But even as she begged, he teased. “You’re wet,” he murmured in her ear, a naughty accusation. “And not from the shower.”

She moaned, and then again when he reversed their positions and firmly pressed her against the shower wall and slipped a finger inside her.

“Tanner.”

“Tell me,” he said, voice thick. “Tell me what you want. Anything.”

His lips and tongue traced against her jawbone and made their way to her lips, but when she leaned in for the kiss, he allowed the connection for only the barest of seconds before he withdrew from her, making her suck in a breath of sheer frustration.

“You,” she gasped. “I want you. Here. Now,” she whispered against his lips, sliding her leg up his hip so that he’d have better access.

He let go of her only to reach for one of the condoms and then he was back, his mouth ravaging hers, his tongue pushing, stroking, reminding her of what he was going to do once he got inside of her. Her entire body felt tight, needy, desperate—until finally he slid home with one sure push of his hips and groaned her name.

She cried out at the same time, arching against him, close, so close to orgasm she couldn’t talk, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but hold on. Knowing her body as well as he did, he angled her hips to his, purposely maximizing her pleasure. One stroke, she thought. That was all she needed.

But he held back. “Callie.”

Blinking away the water, she did her best to focus in on him, taking in the carnal heat in his eyes, his need for her, and, maybe best of all, affection. Unable to control herself, wanting more, she ground her hips into his.

With one arm wrapped around her back, his other hand tangled in her hair, he said her name again, his voice low, guttural. Raw. And took her where she needed to go. When she came, he rode out the waves right along with her, gasping her name as he sagged against her, pressing her into the wall. After a moment he slid with her to the shower floor.

They lay there entangled, spent, unable to speak or move a single muscle as the water rained down on them.

After a beat Tanner pulled her into him, pressed his mouth to her temple, and murmured something. It was inaudible but his tone was protective, possessive, and so sexy she shivered.

Nearly a month ago now, he’d asked her if she believed in love and her knee-jerk reaction had been hell no, she didn’t believe in love.

But the truth was, deep, deep, deep down, she desperately wanted to believe. She wanted to get it right.

She just didn’t know if she could.

But until that defining moment there on her shower floor in Tanner’s arms, she’d never really known that she wanted to. She felt warm and…sated for the first time in so long. Sated, but also afraid because she wasn’t going to ever get enough of this.

Of him.

“This changes nothing,” she whispered. And she had no idea if she was reminding him or herself.

Chapter 22

When Tanner left Callie’s place, he headed to the warehouse. He and the guys weren’t going to be on the water today. They were on their way to Seattle to look at a boat for sale.