Page 117 of Keepsakes and Kismet

His voice is pure gravel as he whispers gruffly in my ear. “Don’t waste your breath saying please. I’ll do anything you want.”

Goosebumps prick at my arms, even though the heat of his body surrounds me. His lips press against the back of my neck, and pure need intensifies low in my stomach, building to uncontrollable levels.

Callum anchors his hands on my hips and curses as he thrusts into me from behind. The fullness of him causes my knees to buckle, and he curls one of his arms around my waist, giving me some stability.

“Every inch of you is wet, Pey. You’re squeezing me so tight. Perfect.”

I melt when he praises me, turning my cheek to catch his gaze over my shoulder. “C-Callum. You make me feel—I need…”

His hand reaches around and rubs my clit, and I rest my hands against the tile.

Callum keeps thrusting, faster now. Little praises fly from his lips. There you go. My beautiful girl. So sweet for me. I’m so lucky. And when he whispers, “you’re gonna make me come” in my ear, I give myself over to a second, all-encompassing orgasm, trembling against him.

“Peyton,” he groans, thrusting once more before finishing inside me.

Breathing heavily, he drops his forehead against my shoulder. “You are…” His hair swishes against my skin. “I’m out of my mind.”

“Same,” I sigh. “Do you think it’ll always be like this?”

Callum peppers my neck with kisses. “I think it’ll be better.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “It’ll be better.”

Reaching behind me, I tap gently on his thigh. “As much as I don’t want to be empty, I really do need to shower.”

“Are you sure? I think soap is overrated,” he grumbles against my skin.

I roll my eyes. “Please. If you could marry soap, you’d do it.”

“Nah, I’m already spoken for,” he says softly.

My heart pitter-patters at the implication.

When he pulls out, we both groan. But his protest quickly turns to awe when I turn around and he spots his release running down my thighs.

“Fuck,” he says quietly, his breaths uneven. He indulges himself for a few more seconds before meeting my gaze again.

I could say a million things. Starting with, you can watch this happen again later, but I just give him a contented smile. “For someone who’s never showered with anyone before, that was…”

He shakes his head. “It’s because it’s you.”

If my cheeks weren’t red from the heat of the shower, they’d turn scarlet from his sentiment alone. I have no words left, so I reach for the shampoo.

“Uh uh,” he chides, shaking his head. “Let me.” He grabs the bottle off the shelf, then rotates me so the water runs down my hair and back. I look over my shoulder and watch him squeeze some shampoo into his hand.

“You watching me take care of you, Pey?” he asks.

“It’s not boring to me just yet, I guess,” I say softly.

He hums and nudges my shoulder with his lips. “Soon, hopefully. Soon it’ll be boring.”

Callum rubs the shampoo between his hands, then reaches up and massages it into my hair. He starts at the ends, which makes me smile, before moving upward and rubbing it into my scalp. Then, his fingers travel all the way to my forehead, which isn’t the best idea, because⁠—

“Ahh!” I yelp, shampoo running into my eyes.

“Shit. I’m fucking this up. I shouldn’t have offered. I don’t know how to wash hair,” he mutters, grabbing the washcloth off the shower bar and frantically wiping at my eyes, pushing way too hard and pressing the shampoo deeper into my corneas. Noting my obvious distress, he switches to wiping with his thumbs. “I’m so sorry. I’m terrible at this.”

“No, no, I like when my eyes are burning,” I deadpan, lids squeezed shut.