Only Oscar (Wattys 2022 Shortlist!)

Chapter Nineteen

"I know it's late, but I –" Oscar looked at her face when the door opened, his smile swiftly replaced by a frown. "What's wrong?

The emotion clogging her throat kept Callie silent as he stepped over the threshold. But even if she could speak, she couldn't tell him how she felt. She didn't want him to know how defenseless she was where he was concerned.

Instead, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. 

In response, he kicked the door shut and kissed her back with a ferocity that made her head spin. They stumbled down the hallway, bumped against picture frames, knocked over a side table. There was nothing slow or tender about what they were doing. It was all heat and desperation, fire and desire. But when they got to her bedroom and parted for long enough to remove each other's T-Shirts, the tempo changed.

Callie reached out for him.

"No." He placed his large hands on her shoulders and set her back a step. "I want to see you."

Reaching behind her, he tugged the band from her pony tail and tossed it aside, his fingers sliding through her hair, arranging it in soft waves around her face.

"You're beautiful," he said raggedly.

Callie stared at him, hypnotized into believing what he said as his gaze lowered to her breasts. His fingers trailed lazily over the lace edged cups of her bra before they dipped into her cleavage to release the clasp. As the scrap of material joined her T-Shirt on the floor, he replaced it with his palms and watched the reaction on her face. '

Okay?' he asked without speaking.

Her heart twisted. It was more than okay.

She closed her eyes, overwhelmed by sensation, the lack of one sense, heightening another. 

His touch was firm but gentle, slow but sure, torturous but soothing. He was an artist and she was the clay in his hands, waiting for him to shape her into any form he chose. 

Stepping closer, his firm mouth covered hers in a soft, impossibly tender kiss which drew her emotions dangerously close to the surface. Her hands roved restlessly over his chest, his shoulders and the tense muscles in his upper arms. They dropped to his stomach, slid lower, but when she fumbled with the button on the waistband of his jeans, he released her breasts and placed his hands over hers. 

When their lips parted and she opened her eyes, the way he was looking at her created a yearning which was more than physical.

"Oscar," she whispered harshly. "I need –"

"I know. But if you put your hand there, I won't last five minutes." He rested his forehead against hers and looked deep in her eyes as he whispered, "You have no idea how much I want you."

"Show me."

Their mouths fused together while he laid his palms on her hips and pushed her sweats down her legs. The second she'd wriggled enough to get the material to her feet where she could kick it off, he hauled her to him, her breasts crushed against the wall of his chest as he edged her back towards the bed. She grabbed his butt, her fingernails digging into denim. He growled in response, the sound low and menacing as the backs of her knees hit the mattress. 

With a forcefulness which made her gasp, he pushed her back on the covers, covered her body with his and pinned her wrists above her head. Then his mouth ravished her, moving from her lips to her throat to her breasts. He sucked on a straining nipple, grazed it with his teeth while she moaned and twisted restlessly beneath him. He released her wrists, kissed his way down her rib-cage, over the curve of her stomach, his fingers hooking under the lace at her hips.