The Brightest Light of Sunshine

My lips brush his in a shy kiss, testing the waters. For a moment Cal’s whole body stiffens, and panic rushes through me like a deadly wave.

I shouldn’t have done this. I should’ve asked him if he wanted to kiss me. I know what it’s like to—

“Come here,” he whispers roughly against my mouth, pulling away only for a second before kissing me again.

Oh, my fucking god.

One of his big hands grabs the back of my neck, pulling me closer until I’m straddling his lap. My hands come to rest on his shoulders, not really knowing what to do with them. It’s been years since I kissed someone like this, and it wasn’t even like this when I did. I’m scared I’ll do something he doesn’t like, like biting his lip or something.

“Relax.” He pulls away again, reading my mind. “Just follow my lead.”

I shut my brain down and do as he says.

Cal kisses me like he wants to memorize the taste of my lips. Holds me like he wants to remember my skin under his touch forever. The world stops as he parts my mouth with his tongue, deepening the kiss. Every single one of my senses comes alive with each caress of his tongue, soft and gentle against mine, and a small whimper escapes my throat.

My heart jumps with embarrassment and I debate whether to pull away and run off, but then Cal’s grip on the back of my neck tightens and he brings me closer. He… likes it?

Something pulls at my heart, screaming at me to lose myself in him. For once, I listen.

When his other hand comes to rest on my waist, sending a jolt of electricity through my spine, my hips rub against his on their own accord. Another throaty sound leaves me at the hardness now pressing against my center, and he gives me a grunt in response but doesn’t pull away.

Oh, god. This is really happening.

His mouth takes mine in a hungry kiss as I keep rubbing my jean-clad core against the obvious hardness of his length. The hand at my nape lands on my waist, prompting me to keep going.

I pull away, gasping for air, and he rests his forehead against mine. His eyes follow my every movement on top of him, as if he didn’t want to miss a second of this.

“That’s it. This is where you belong. Here with me,” he growls. The praise and possessiveness in his tone make my head all dizzy. “You’re gonna use me to get yourself off, sunshine? Is that it?”

The pool of wetness between my legs grows at his dirty talk. Holy shit.

His big hands—god, those hands—give my waist a squeeze, and he stops. “Talk to me, Grace. Tell me what you need from me.”

I hold his face between my hands. This sweet, sweet man never fails to make my heart melt. “I only need you to let go,” I whisper, my movements slow but not halted. “I’m not fragile. I won’t break.”

A grunt leaves the back of his throat. “I don’t trust myself right now. I don’t want to be too rough with you.”

There’s nothing that would drive me more insane than seeing Cal’s rough side in bed, but maybe he’s right. Maybe that wouldn’t be wise tonight.

“Then simply follow my lead,” I repeat his own words.

The doubt in his eyes only lasts for a moment. Our lips find each other’s again, and my pace quickens. I’m panting, whimpering at the hardness between my legs that feels so imposing it both terrifies and thrills me.

I throw my head back as my impending orgasm grows and grows inside of me. In an instant, his mouth finds the exposed skin on my neck. Cal kisses, nibbles, sucks on it, and I lose my mind.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “You look like a fucking goddess on top of me. So sweet, so perfect.”

His praise is my undoing. I bury my face in his neck, tired and spent, as I struggle to chase my release. He immediately takes over, guiding my hips with his strong hands.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he rasps in my ear. “Rub yourself on my cock and come.”

I can’t hold it in any longer. With a strained, loud moan, my walls clench around his covered length and I finally, finally come undone.

Holy shit. Did I just dry hump him?

I’ve pleasured myself before with my fingers, but nothing can compare to the real thing. And he hasn’t even touched me.

My arms hug him around the neck as I slowly regain my breath. He sits still under me except for the hand now resting on my lower back, drawing small circles on my covered skin.

When I sit back, his darkened stare meets mine.  Raw dominance radiates off him, and I wonder if he’s about to unleash the beast I know he keeps hidden. If he’s about to make me come again.

I wouldn’t be opposed to that, even though I’m so exhausted I could fall asleep in minutes.

Instead, he opens and closes his mouth twice until he finally manages a whisper, “Sorry.”

My heartbeat picks up until I’m sure he can hear it through my chest. “Cal, you don’t have to apologize. I initiated it.” And I don’t even want to ask myself why.

His hands are still on my body, as if he wanted to let go but couldn’t. “Grace,” he starts, and I know I’m going to hate whatever comes out of his mouth next. “We shouldn’t have… This isn’t…”

“Yeah.” I gulp. I would rather break my heart in two before he does. Although it may be too late for that now. “I’m sorry if I crossed a line. I should’ve asked you for permission first.”

“It’s all right,” he reassures me. “You didn’t do anything I didn’t like or wanted.”

I blink, unsure if I understand what he’s saying. He wanted to kiss me? Dry hump me, even? He’s thought about it before?

“What if I want to do it again?” I ask, biting on my lower lip. Not as an act of seduction trying to prompt a round two, but because I feel so self-conscious I could scream.

He rubs his eyes, that tattooed hand catching my eye again. “I don’t think we should.”

My face falls. “Oh.”

“Do you still think you’re broken?” His question surprises me, but more so does my answer.

“No. I don’t think I ever was.”

Like a shattered vase that has been glued back together, I’m not broken—I’m simply new.

And the man in front of me is as responsible for this realization as my own healing soul is, even if he’s hurting my heart right now.

Instead of pulling away, he brings me closer against his chest and hugs me tightly. Silent confessions pass between us, only to die in each other’s hearts. “You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me, Grace,” he murmurs. “I want to keep being your friend, but I understand if you can’t do that right now.”

I feel confused and a little scared, but if there’s something clear in my mind it’s this, “Of course I still want to be your friend, Cal. Always. That’s never going to change.”

With a sigh, he lets me go and scoots back on the couch. “I shouldn’t have let it happen.”

“I initiated it,” I repeat. If only he could get it through his thick skull. “I told you to follow my lead, and you did.”

“Yes, but you are…” He doesn’t finish his sentence.

“I am what, Cal?” I snap against my better judgment. “Broken? Is that what you think?”

“No,” he says firmly. “No, you aren’t. Not at all.”

“What is it, then?” When I make a move to get off his lap, he lets me go. Standing between his legs, I cross my arms and glare down at him. “You made me feel good, so what if I want to return the favor?”

“You made me feel good, too.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

He sighs and drops his gaze to his lap. This isn’t how it should’ve gone. The last person I need to treat me like a fragile doll who can break at any moment is doing exactly that.

And when the seconds tick by and he says nothing, I tell him, “I shouldn’t have come here tonight.” The lie tastes sour in my lips, and I force myself to move. “I… I’m going home.”

He swallows and follows me to the door. “I’m sorry,” he tells me again, as if those words could make the pain go away. “I just… I can’t offer you anything more than my friendship right now. I hope it’s enough.”

Right. He doesn’t do relationships and, to be fair, I don’t think I’m ready for one either. Not if I can’t have something like this. I nod. “I understand. I don’t want anything else. Of course your friendship is enough.”

He nods back, and I give him a tight smile and a promise to text him when I get to my dorm before disappearing down the hall and into the cold night. It helps that I can barely feel a thing right now, my face and hands included, or else I’d be freezing to death.

Is this what heartbreak does to you?

***

I’m not ignoring Cal.

It’s just that I haven’t seen or talked to him in three days, but it’s purely a coincidence.

He texted me earlier today asking if I was all right, I said yes, and that was it. He didn’t stop by The Dance Palace to pick up his sister, either, which I guess is good news. It means his mother is taking care of her daughter, as she should be doing.

Still, it doesn’t mean I don’t miss him. It doesn’t mean this feels right.

I’m just dumb. I could drop by Inkjection right now if I wanted to, and he would be there. He wouldn’t refuse to see me. We could talk, I could apologize again for being distant these past few days, and we would go back to regular scheduled programming.

The only issue with that plan is that I can’t face him right now, not without dying of embarrassment and heartache.

Because on top of being dumb, I’m also irrational. The whole package, I know.

He doesn’t want a relationship, I know that, and to be fair I’m not sure I want one either. My curiosity about sex and pleasure is just that—a sign that I’m on the right path to healing. It doesn’t have to come with a marriage contract.

I’m just confused.

Confused, and a whole lot of heartbroken.

Hiding my head in my hands, I let out the most dramatic sigh known to humanity, and it earns me a snort from somewhere behind me.

“I take it the book’s not going well?” Em asks.

I grunt and stare one last time at my blank Word document before shutting my laptop for the night. “I can’t do this. Maybe I’m not meant to be an author.”

The covers shuffle around as my best friend gets out of bed. “Bullshit. You’re not inspired right now, that’s all it is.” She sounds so convinced I almost believe her. Keyword: almost.

“It’s late, Em, why aren’t you asleep?” I ask, changing the subject. She’s usually knocked out cold by this time during the week.

She holds up her phone with one hand. “Carly hooked up with Laila last night, and she wants to tell me all the juicy details in person. I’m just waiting until she texts me to go to her room. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course not.” I’m just glad Em is going to her room instead of her coming here, or else I would be looking at a three-hour gossiping session.

As Em yawns and stretches her legs, I realize something. “You didn’t grab dinner at the hall tonight. Amber was asking for you.”

I can’t tell if her shoulders freeze with tension or if I’m just seeing things. “I was out with a friend,” she says casually enough, but there’s something off about her voice. I just can’t pinpoint what. “We went to The Spoon, actually.”

“Oh, cool. Did you see my cousin?”

She plays with the fluffy hem of her pink blanket. “Yeah, he was around.”

“I don’t get why he insists on being there almost every night,” I muse out loud. “It’s not like he helps around much when it’s crowded.”

“He does help the staff most of the time,” Emily blurts out. “Bringing out food and drinks, and things like that.”

“How do you know that?”

“No reason.” She shrugs. “He told me once, when I asked.”

It makes sense. Emily is too nosey—curious, as she’d put it—for her own good, and the fact that she’s never afraid to ask questions or start a conversation is something I admire a lot. I’m always worried whether I’m being an inconvenience, so I’d rather keep quiet.

I’m about to say something else when someone knocks at the door. “Must be Carly.” Em reluctantly gets out of bed to answer it.

As I turn back to my desk, debating whether to open my laptop again and face the disappointment and insecurity, my best friend’s voice fills the room again. “Um, Grace? It’s not Carly at the door.”

“Huh?”

When I turn around, Cal is standing on the other side of the threshold, in all his tattooed glory.

Holy shit.

“Cal?” I hurry out of my chair and practically shove Em out of the way. I look nervously around the deserted hallway before grabbing his hand and yanking him inside. “You can’t be here this late at night! How did you even get in?”

He looks around Em and I’s shared dorm room, and it hits me that he’s been here once before—to fix Em’s wobbly furniture. Our dorm might be spacious enough for two decent-sized beds, two wardrobes and two desks, but his enormous size makes it look like a tiny shoe box. He would dwarf my bed for sure if he lied on it, and great—now I’m imagining Cal on my bed and my cheeks are already tomato red.

“Trey’s brother is the security guard at your building,” he explains. I guess it’s really that simple. When he finally looks down at me, my breath hitches. “I, um, came here to talk to you. But I can leave.”

Em clears her throat behind us, one hand already on the doorknob. “I’m going to Carly’s room. Text me.”

I nod, and she leaves. Cal is still waiting for an answer, I realize, so I sit down on my bed and pat the spot next to me. “We can talk.”

I was right about him dwarfing my furniture. The mattress squeaks under his weight, and why the hell am I finding our size difference so hot right now? I open my mouth before my mind can drag me to the exact place it’s been stuck in for the past three days—our kiss. And our dry humping. God.

“What did you want to talk about?”

Cal doesn’t beat around the bush. “Are you mad at me?”

“A little,” I tell him honestly. “I just needed… time to think, I guess.”

“About what?” He turns his head to look at me, and before I can help myself my fingers tuck away the unruly strand of dark hair that always falls on his forehead.

I put my hand back on my lap, where it’s safe. “Our kiss confused me,” I admit, hoping he doesn’t take it the wrong way. “Not because I want you to be my boyfriend or anything. It just… It left me with this weird feeling inside. And then we did… that other thing, and I wanted to do more, but you refused. I get why, and I’m sorry for pressuring you.”

A beat of silence passes between us. “I was afraid I’d ruined everything between us.”

“Cal, no.” I take his warm hands between my cold ones. “You know why I’ve been distant? I was embarrassed.”

“Why?”

“Your rejection threw me off. I was scared you’d see me again and want nothing to do with me.”

He shakes his head and squeezes my hands in a comforting gesture. “Never, Grace. Listen to me, we’re adults, all right? I don’t do petty drama or miscommunication shit, and I know you don’t either. So, let’s just talk about stuff like this like adults from now on.”

“I like that idea.” I smile. “Are we good, then?”

“We’ve always been. I want to keep being your friend—if you’ll still have me.”

My lips twitch. “Don’t be dumb. Of course we’re friends.”

He pulls me towards him and I fall onto his lap. My arms wrap around his neck on their own accord, and my heart is about to bungee jump out of my chest. Cal doesn’t seem to mind this new position one bit, though. “That isn’t the only reason I came here tonight.”

Yes, my heart is definitely not doing well right now. Keeping an arm around me, his other hand goes to the pocket of his jacket, and he pulls out a bunch of papers. “For you.”

Unfolding them, I blink once, twice, not sure if the darkness of the room is making me see things. “Is this…?” I look at the first drawing, then the second, and the third. A lump forms in my throat.

“Gracie and Sammy.” He rests his chin on my shoulder, and I feel his heart beating as fast as mine when he presses his chest to my back.

I’m at a loss for words. Between my shaking fingers are three stunning sketches of the main characters of my non-existent novel, and the only thing I want to do right now is to kiss him again. And then cry.

The drawings aren’t colored, but they’re detailed to a tee. Gracie wears her short hair on two low pigtails and holds a big magnifying glass in one of her hands. Next to her, Sammy has a big pair of chunky glasses on, ready to take notes with his pen and notebook. They both sport the whole detective gear—cool hats and even cooler raincoats with belts and everything.

The first drawing is of them doing some heroic pose that I can already see on the cover of the book; in the second, Gracie is bending down, looking at something with her magnifying glass while Sammy takes notes; and in the third, they’re taking pictures while hiding behind a bush.

I can’t even begin to form a comprehensible thought.

“Do you like them?” he asks in a soft voice, as if he were scared that I would actually hate them.

Still holding the three sketches in my hand, I turn around and throw myself at him. He hugs me back, laughing as he falls backwards. “Should I take it as a yes?”

“Take it as a hell yes!” I press a loud kiss on his cheek. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen, Cal. Holy shit. When did you make these? They’re so different from the tattoos you draw for your clients.”

He chuckles. “I can pretty much draw any style. And I finished them today. They’re not much.”

Realizing I’m still on top of him, I sit back on the bed and marvel at the little detectives again. “These are amazing, Cal. I don’t even know what to say.”

He smiles. “You don’t have to say anything.”

I don’t want to cry, but it’s getting harder to keep the tears at bay. Everything he does for me while asking for nothing in return is almost overwhelming—in the best way. My heart screams at me, demanding to stop this confusion. I wish I could.

“I… I haven’t talked to my professor yet,” I admit in a quiet voice, and now I feel terrible. What if he’s worked on these beautiful sketches for nothing?

“Don’t worry about it.” I feel his hand on my back, tracing soothing patterns with his fingers. “If you can’t put them in your book, you can use them for inspiration. I’ll make as many as you want. And I’m thinking they could have a badass pet helping them with their mystery-solving.”

I’m not breathing anymore. I swear I’m not. “That’s a great idea,” I manage to let out. “What pet would you want?”

“How about a dog?” he suggests, his fingers still soothing my growing nerves. “He can catch the bad guys and smell for clues while looking cute.”

I don’t think this man is real. “I’d like that. A lot.”

“I’ll start working on it tomorrow, then.”

“I don’t deserve you,” I mumble against his chest as I hug him again, unable to stay away. If I could hold onto him forever like a clingy koala, I would.

“I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you, sunshine,” he whispers back, and his voice sounds almost pained.

That isn’t true, but right now I don’t trust myself to carry on with this conversation without bursting into tears, so I change topics. “Do you want to stay and watch a movie?”

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I want to, but Trey’s brother warned me it would be best if I got out of here as soon as possible. I could get you into trouble.”

“Right. It makes sense.”

“And I guess your roommate would want to come back to bed,” he says, smirking.

“Oh, don’t worry about her. She left to gossip with a friend, so she’s all right.”

“Still, I should get back.” He gives me an apologetic look. “Vegan food truck tomorrow, though?”

We agree to meet after the shop closes, and he gives me a faint forehead kiss before leaving. The heat of his touch lingers on my skin as I text Emily, and when she comes back an hour later it’s still there. I don’t think it’ll ever leave, and the thought is nothing short of comforting.

Emily takes one look at me as she gets into bed and deadpans, “He’s totally in love with you.”

I don’t answer. I wouldn’t know what to say.