Caleb reached around her and took her key. Helplessly, she accepted the aid and fought the urge to lean back on him. That leaning on him felt safe said a lot. Her parents had taught her to be strong and independent, to lean on those you trust, and be picky about who was inside that circle. Caleb was in that circle. No other man ever had been. He’d seen her strong, seen her weak. Heck, he’d tended to her annual stomach flu when she’d been death warmed over.
Caleb’s lips brushed her neck, and she realized she was doing more than thinking about leaning on him. She was leaning on him, her body resting against his bigger, harder one. He’d known she needed a minute, known not to push her.
Caleb turned the doorknob and she darted forward, nerves working a number on her. Awkward without her purse, which she normally dropped on the hall table, she pressed her hand to her face. She’d wanted this—wanted Caleb—for so long. Even when she’d denied wanting him, she realized now, she had, indeed, wanted him. She’d spent so much time feeling guilty for that desire, for driving him away, that this—here, now—felt somehow wrong. Like a bad deed that would be punished.
Shay swung around to face Caleb, finding him close—so tall and broad and gorgeous, she almost forgot what she’d intended to say. He reached for her. Somehow, she retained some logic and stepped backward. If he touched her, she’d forget everything but him. She’d forget that talk they’d never had. They had to have that talk. “What if we regret this?”
He laced the fingers of one of his hands with hers. “What if we don’t?”
Fretful, she rejected that nonanswer. “What if we do, Caleb?”
“The only regret I’ll have is walking away and losing another day pretending we don’t want each other.”
Sending him away would be hard. It would stink. But… “But what if something does go wrong? What if it makes you afraid to come around the family?” She frowned when she noticed he was smiling. “What about this is amusing?”
“The part where you still say ‘what if’ at the beginning of every sentence when you are feeling out of control,” he admitted unashamedly.
“I’m serious, Caleb,” she said, refusing to be drawn into playful banter designed to redirect her questions. “What if it’s not what we thought it would be? Will we act strangely? All this build-up. What if—”
“What if—” he drew her wrist to his lips “—I kiss you here.” His mouth pressed to her pulse point, and she felt it all over her body. “Or here?” He opened her palm and kissed it, as well. “Or even here?” He kissed the bend of her arm, which was really, really sexy, in a way she’d never imagined. No one had ever kissed her there. Shay shuddered with arousal.
His lips lifted with satisfaction as he asked, “At what point will I convince you…it’s going to be good?” He folded her in his arms, his body cradling hers, his lips near her ear. “Because it’s already good for me.”
Shay buried her face in his neck, inhaling the scent of him. “I’m just—” she hesitated and decided to be honest—this was Caleb after all “—nervous.” She laughed. “Yeah. I’m really nervous.”
He pulled back, his hand sliding down her hair. “I’m still me,” he said, his eyes warm with comfort. “The same guy you once pushed into the swimming pool, ruining my boots.”
A sudden spell of laughter bubbled from her lips. She should have known he’d come up with the perfect thing to calm her nerves. “You were so mad. I’d venture to say you were furious.”
“And you never told me why you did it,” he reminded her.
“I don’t remember,” she said coyly, but of course, she did. She’d worn a dress to get his attention, and he’d told her it was too old for her, treated her like a kid sister. Not fifteen minutes later, she had the opportunity and took it. Caleb went into the pool, fully clothed. Seeing him sopping wet had done a lot to ease the bite of his reprimand.
“Liar,” he purred, nibbling at her neck and picking her up, his hands sliding around her backside. Shay wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms wrapping around his neck. “Why’d you push me into that pool?”
“I was sixteen and hormonal, and you were in the way,” she said, which was the truth—just not the whole truth. She intended to keep her youthful pettiness to herself.
Caleb headed down the stairs toward the living room, rather than toward the bedroom, and she knew it was because she’d told him she was nervous. The man was full of all kinds of awesomeness. Big, brawny and manly, yet he could be so darn sensitive.
“Liar,” he accused, sitting down on the couch and taking her with him.