He flinches at the first gentle touch against his armpit. Months of dating have taught me exactly where he’s ticklish.
Unfortunately, that means he’s had plenty of time to learn my spots, too.
He attacks me before I have a chance to brace myself, his fingers fluttering beneath my arms and across my belly and at the small of my back as I try helplessly to roll away from his advances. I squeal at the onslaught, then quickly bite down on my bottom lip. I will not be the first one to laugh.
The best defense in this situation is a counterattack, and I continue my assault on the sensitive skin of his armpits. He tries to jerk away from my touch, but as much as he struggles, he still has me at a disadvantage. I should have waited until we were standing before I issued the challenge, but instead I’m stuck on my back beneath him. If I’m going to gain the upper hand, I need to get out from under him.
I lunge for the edge of the mattress. My fingers brush the carpet, but Calder is fast. He grabs me and continues to tickle every bit of skin he can reach.
“Let me—ahhh—let me go!” I cry. I twist in his arms, but his fingers are everywhere.
I can’t help it. As much as I try to fight it, as hard as I bite down on my lip—it’s no use. I laugh. I laugh until there are tears streaming out of the corners of my eyes. Until my stomach aches and my throat hurts and I’m completely out of breath.
Calder is laughing too. He’s enjoying his victory. My cheeks go hot at the arrogant look on his face, but I have to admit that he put up a good fight.
“Looks like we’re one-and-one,” he says, grinning down at me.
“Rub it in, why don’t you?”
He sits back and pulls me up into his arms. I’m still shaky and breathless, and the hungry way he’s looking at me does little to calm my racing heart. I’ve lost, and now I have to face the consequences.
I do my best to look perturbed. “What are your demands, O victor?”
His answering chuckle sends butterflies to flight in my stomach. How, after all these months, does he still have such power over my nerves?
But it’s not my body’s response that truly amazes me—it’s my mind’s. Months ago, when I first met Calder, I tried to resist the reactions of my flesh, but these days I’d happily surrender myself to them again and again. That’s the exhilarating thing—the knowledge that no matter what he desires, no matter what he asks me to do, I won’t even hesitate. Sure, I’ll put on a show of indignity and outrage, but that only fuels both of our appetites; this back-and-forth is a way of feeding the flames that already burn brightly within us.
And by the current look on Calder’s face, I know that I’m about to dive headfirst into a blazing inferno.
CHAPTER THREE
Calder’s thumb dances across my cheek. He leans in, his breath stirring my hair, but for a long moment he doesn’t speak.
As the silence stretches between us, I pull back slightly so I can look him in the eyes. His dark irises hold a world of emotion, and though the desire is still there, there’s something deeper too. Something infinitely more meaningful.
“The prize I ask,” he says, “is that you be completely honest with me.”
I frown as confusion and hurt battle within me. “You… you think I’m not honest with you?”
He shakes his head quickly—vehemently—but it’s not enough to quiet the emotions that have suddenly flickered to life in my gut.
“That’s not what I meant,” he says. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I’d like for you to answer it as honestly as possible.”
Our conversation’s sudden shift in tone makes me nervous, but I nod. I want to know what’s going on in his head.
Calder reaches over and takes a lock of my hair in his hand. He twirls it slowly between his fingers as if studying the way the strands move against each other. When he speaks, his tone is thoughtful.
“Is there anything you would change between us?”
It’s not a question I was expecting. I lean back, trying to understand through my shock why he’d ask something like that.
“What do you mean?” I hear myself say. Inside my head, the questions are swirling: Is he unhappy? Is he suddenly questioning our decision to move in together? We’ve only been dating about half a year; maybe he’s second-guessing our decision to move so quickly.
Calder looks up at my face again, but I don’t get any answers from his expression.
“I just want to know that you’re happy,” he says finally.
“What kind of question is that? Of course I’m happy.” I continue to search his face but get nothing. “And I’m not exactly the kind of person who keeps quiet if someone’s doing something that pisses me off.”
He gives a little smile. “I know that, but I’m aiming for something a little higher than ‘doesn’t piss you off’.”
“I love you. You know that.” I manage to keep my voice steady, but the worry is still alive and well in my chest. Why is he suddenly acting so strange? A minute ago we were happily rolling around on the mattress together. How can he doubt how I feel about him?
Calder finally seems to understand how he sounds, though, because he sits up and yanks his fingers through his hair.
“This is coming out wrong,” he says. He leans forward and cups my face. “I love you, Lily. More than anything. But saying those words isn’t enough. I want to show you that I love you. Every single day. Moving into this place—deciding to live together—this gives me that chance.” His thumb brushes along my jawline. “We’ve seen a lot of each other, yes, but sharing the same home is a different thing entirely. You learn things about people when you live with them. Good things, of course—wonderful things—but bad things, too. We might discover that some of our day-to-day habits annoy each other. We might argue over whose turn it is to do the dishes or take out the garbage. We’ll probably have more than a few disputes about money or schedules or a hundred other things that come up when a couple decides to take this step.”
I’m still confused.
“I know that,” I say gently. “But that’s all part of growing together, isn’t it? I don’t expect either of us to be perfect. Sure, we’ll have disagreements, but living together won’t automatically turn us into a couple that bickers all the time. Is that what you’re worried about?” My stomach is in knots. Why is he only telling me about these doubts now?