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He called me Callie.
I don’t know why, but I like it. I like that he knows my real name, that he turned it into something that’s his.
We lie in the low light of morning, both of us pressed against each other until he pulls back and stands up.
The trickle of moisture between my thighs is enough to set me on fire again, the filthy thought of him coming inside me a turn-on that I can’t explain.
I stand and follow him to the bathroom before turning the faucets on. Looking over my shoulder to where he’s standing behind me, I ask, “Shower with me?”
We both climb in and warm up under the heat of the water. Warrick takes his time washing me, his hands pressing into my skin as if he wants to commit it to memory, and I return the favor. Gliding my own hands down his body, pressing against his muscles, the hot water starts to run out before we’re done with each other.
I’m wrapping a towel around me when he comes back into the bathroom, fully dressed, and says, “I have to run out for a few things. I’ll be right back.”
The suddenness of him leaving takes me off guard.
“Oh, yeah. Um. Sure. You’re coming back though, right?”
“Yep. I’ll be back in like twenty minutes.”
I watch as he leaves my room, disappointed that he didn’t ask if I wanted to go with him before I think better of it.
To be fair, I don’t really have a lot of breakfast foods here in my house, so maybe he wants something to eat that’s not a sandwich or oatmeal.
I go through my skincare routine before drying my hair. By the time I’m done, he’s still not back, and I start down to the kitchen with the intention of trying to brew coffee in my brand-new pot before he gets back.
Just as I grab the carafe to fill with water, the front door opens and Warrick kicks his shoes off at the door.
Crossing the kitchen, I grab some of the bags from him.
“Did you buy the whole store?”
“Nah. This is from my kitchen.”
“Your kitchen?”
I peek into the bags and stop at what I see. I look up at Warrick, and a warm smile covers his face.
“I originally bought everything so that I could talk you into making more cookies for me, but I think that this might be a good tradition for us. Cookie baking on New Year’s Day.”
My heart doesn’t make a sound as it falls at his feet.
“You want to make cookies?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
He nods. “I do, if it’s with you.”
The statement doesn’t require an answer, but I give him the same one he gave me last night when I asked him to catch me as I fell for him.
“Always.”
CHAPTER 17
Warrick
EPILOGUE
One Year Later
Ten.
