One in a Million

Tanner stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re the rescuer,” Cole said. “Never the rescuee.”

WTF. “I don’t need rescuing.”

Cole’s smile was sad. “Man, we all need a good save now and then.”

Tanner thought about that his entire drive home. It was true that he’d done his best to be there for the people in his life. Elisa. Troy. His mom. Cole and Sam. So what? They meant everything to him—even Elisa with all her craziness because she’d given him his son.

But he didn’t have a rescue complex. Nor did he need rescuing. Not in the damn slightest. He took care of himself. He sure as hell didn’t need anyone. Need and want were two entirely different things and—

And the thought scattered on the night’s light wind as he pulled up to his house and saw Callie’s car in his driveway.

She was waiting on him.

His heart, which had been sitting uncomfortably in his gut all damn night, fluttered like a virgin’s. He got out of his truck and jogged up the front walk, stopping at the sight of her sitting on his top step.

She rose, dusted her hands on her thighs, and met his gaze. Her eyes weren’t as bright as they normally were. There were smudges of exhaustion beneath them. Her smile wasn’t quite right either, and his heart squeezed. It was one of those moments where time stood still as something hit him.

He was willing to take whatever she would give him, and if that meant friends with benefits, or just friends, or just benefits, he’d take those crumbs. But if she walked away from him, he would be decimated. Apparently there was a point of no return, and he’d crossed it. Not just strolled over it but steamrolled past it.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said. “Want a drink? Or we could make something to eat, or—”

She shook her head. “I shouldn’t stay long. I’ve got work.”

“It’s past midnight.”

She shrugged. “Brides don’t notice the time unless their groom is late.”

He unlocked the front door and waited while she moved in ahead of him. Expecting her to stop in his living room and possibly remark on the fact that he had several cans of paint stacked up near Troy’s room, he was surprised when he blinked and she was gone.

He followed her down the hall to his bedroom.

She was kicking off her shoes.

“You sure you don’t want—” His words and breath escaped him in a whoosh when she pushed him onto his bed. “I—”

She climbed on top of him. “No time for a chat,” she said, and then pulled off her sweater.

Beneath she wore a black and nude lace bra that pushed her up and nearly out of the tiny cups. His mouth went dry, even as a part of him recognized that she was wearing pretty lingerie. For him.

When she shoved up his shirt and bent low, putting her mouth on him, a rough groan escaped him. His hands slid into her hair as she took that mouth of hers on a tour south.

Jesus.

She had one hand in pants and him halfway to the finish line before he could draw another breath. “Callie.”

Another stroke with her warm fingers and his eyes crossed. “Callie, wait—”

She shoved his pants down farther.

He moved fast. He had to, or he was going to lose it like a quick-on-the-trigger teenager. Rolling, he pinned her beneath him and held her down on the bed.

She struggled a moment, not to escape but to keep her hands on him, so he collected both of hers in one of his and yanked them up over her head.

“Now,” he said. “What’s going on?”

She blew a strand of hair from her face and said, “Well, I thought we were getting busy.”

“You were,” he said.

She rocked into him with her hips, nudging the hottest—and wettest—part of her over the undeniably hardest part of him. “You too,” she murmured. Her motion hadn’t stopped and her undulating hips were driving him wild. She fought to free her hands, only to clench a handful of his hair, holding his head to hers.

He obliged, kissing her for long, intoxicating moments before shifting to the hollow at the base of her throat and then that spot just beneath her ear that always seemed to make her crazy. He waited for it and wasn’t disappointed to feel her quiver beneath him. Then he nibbled her earlobe before sliding his mouth to hers, feeling yet another tremor course through her as their lips collided.

Her fingers tightened in his hair enough to sting and the contrasting sensations of pleasure and pain had him throbbing painfully. He needed more, now, and going off the sweet sounds she was making, she felt the same. Dipping his head, he caught her lower lip between his teeth.

Her hands held his head close as his tongue slid against hers in a sensual dance that mirrored what he wanted to be doing with the rest of their bodies. A shuddering groan rumbled out of him and he tightened his hold on her, feeling her bare breasts, so perfect and beautiful, rubbing against his chest.

“Please,” she whispered, her mouth traveling across his jaw to his ear, her breath hot and moist.

As if he could deny her a single thing. He fumbled in the top drawer by his bed for a condom but in the end it took the both of them to roll it down his length.

As he slid into her, he dropped his forehead to hers. “Home,” he whispered. “You’re like coming home.”

This statement nearly startled Callie out of the haze of erotic, sensual desire, but she was too far gone. Tanner was inside her, filling her up like no one else ever had, and it seemed as though her body disconnected from her brain and was on its own mission.