“Oh, I get it,” she said, her easy smile back in place as she kept her light, joking tone. “This is just another brotherly rivalry of sorts, is it?”
This was sure as fuck not about Jared, but hadn’t I been thinking it would annoy him if I slept with her? Since honesty seemed to have been the theme of the night, I kept to it. “Maybe, but it doesn’t change the facts. I want you. You gonna lie and say you don’t want me too?”
Chapter 8
Kelly
I didn’t lie to him. Instead, I’d cracked a joke and told him that what I wanted was to see where the magic happened. I’d meant his practicing his guitar, but then I’d gone and blushed and given the whole joke away.
To his credit, Caleb didn’t give me a hard time about it. He’d paid the bill, ignoring my protests that I cover my part, gave me his address, and then waited for me to pull up behind him in the parking lot.
He was being different tonight, more approachable. He’d actually talked to me openly before dinner, and though he’d seemed a bit distracted later while we ate, we still had a perfectly pleasant evening.
A perfectly pleasant evening that was ending with me pulling into his driveway at his surprisingly modestly sized Hollywood Hills home. My pulse thundered through my veins, and my heart threw itself against my ribs.
Because holy crap! Caleb freaking Larsen, the world’s current favorite guitar son, invited me to his place after dinner. That kind of shit didn’t happen to girls like me, except it was, and I had no idea how to handle it. This was supposed to have been nothing more than an interview, and now I was on my way home with him.
There was no way I was going to be able to keep my journalistic distance, but I’d decided to throw caution to the wind and play along with whatever it was that was going on here.
Caleb’s jet-black truck was parked outside a garage wide enough to take three cars, and I rolled up behind him in my beat-up Beetle. It seemed impossible that it was really him, subject of my biggest celebrity crush, leaning casually against his truck, waiting for me to park and join him.
He looked so effortlessly cool in his black jeans, black button down, and undone combat boots. Black leather adorned both wrists, and his hair was wild and windswept, like he’d driven all the way home with his windows open.
My engine sputtered to a stop, and in a few long, sure strides, Caleb was pulling on the handle of my door and opening it for me. I didn’t need him to do that. I was perfectly capable of opening my own doors, but it was both surprising and fascinating to me that he kept making these gestures.
I stepped out of the car, cursing myself for probably the twentieth time that I’d chosen to wear the heels that pinched my baby toes when I stood, but in the excitement of getting ready for dinner, the memory of the toe-torture wasn’t nearly as bad as the reality of it was.
Trying not to wince, I teetered along the stone path that led to his front door and followed him inside. He pushed through the inconspicuous looking narrow wooden door and turned toward me once we were inside. “So this is it.”
He tossed his keys into a small ceramic bowl on the table by the door and started flicking on lights. It took me a second to register what I was seeing. Which was… not much.
The house itself was stunning, with large rooms and larger windows that allowed for unobstructed views of the city. It had wooden flooring and modern finishes. The entire living/dining area opened up to a big deck with one of those endless pools that sat right at the very edge.
It was beautiful, but echo-ey. Because for as gorgeous as the house was, it was also very empty.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, knowing better than to bring up his lack of stuff. If I’d learned something about Caleb during dinner, it was that there was a lot more to him, a lot more going on in his head than one might initially think.
“Thanks. You’re not gonna ask?” His voice was flat, and he was regarding me with wary eyes, watching me take in all the wide-open spaces with an expression that screamed “Leave it fucking be.” So that was exactly what I did.
“Nope. I was promised a drink though. You got one of those?”
While he didn’t smile, his features did relax some as he nodded. He led me through his living area, pushed open the stackable glass doors, and stepped out onto the deck. In the corner, there was a decently sized bar stocked with all manners of scotch and beer, but not much in the way of wine.
“Beer okay?” he asked, stepping behind the counter and emerging with two bottles from the fridge behind it.
“Perfect.” Uncapping my beer, he handed it to me, and I took a long swig, looking out at the city’s lights twinkling below and stretching on forever. “This is a spectacular view. You must love it out here.”
“I do,” Caleb said, moving out from behind the bar to stand next to me. Together, we ambled over to the railing and stood silently side by side. From the looks of things, Caleb didn’t have a garden, only the large deck. It suited him. I couldn’t exactly imagine him singing lullabies to plants or whatever it was green-thumbed people did.
Caleb wordlessly reached for me, winding one strong arm around my waist as he pulled me closer. Shifting his body to make room for me in front of him, he slotted me in between the railing and his big body like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he’d done it a million times before.
Because he probably has, a snippy little voice in the back of my head said. Just not with you.
Still, even if it was highly likely that it was true, I couldn’t bring myself to care—not really. Not when every inch of me was so very aware of the hard, masculine body pressed against me. Caleb felt so much different than the other guys I’d been intimate with before, and he was still just holding me. His body was tall and lean, towering like a sentinel over mine.
One of his large hands was planted on my hip while the other was drawing lazy circles over my stomach. Bending his head down, his lips brushed against the shell of my ear, his voice low when he spoke.
“You know that if anything happens here, it’s just fun, right? Nothing serious.”
“Nothing serious,” I repeated, trying to remember the English language as the hand on my hip traveled lower and the one on my stomach higher. He wasn’t touching me. He was simply stroking my skin lightly, making me hyperaware of all the spots he wasn’t touching.
“You sure you’re okay with that?” Caleb asked quietly, his lips tugging at my earlobe while his roaming hands started massaging my thigh and ribcage, his thumbs brushing against the underside of my breast so softly that it might’ve been an accident. But it still sent shivers shooting straight through me.
“I’m more than okay with that,” I managed between heavy breaths. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate on words, yet it looked like he was intent on getting the talking done before he went any further.
I wiggled my butt against his front to try to encourage him to hurry it up, and I could feel his obvious erection pressing into it. Caleb made a low moaning sound and nipped at the skin on the back of my neck.
In response, he also moved his hand completely under my dress and started tracing the outline of the skimpy lace panties I’d worn for the occasion, though I’d never imagined that they might actually see some game time. Within milliseconds of his ministrations, my poor attention-starved pussy was practically dripping for him. It had been way too long.