THE TALK
by Mia
Summary: "I don't know that we should talk about it here." A one-shot inspired by the final scene between Calleigh & Eric in In the Wind (episode 8.14). This is how I envisioned their evening together unfolding, i.e., how I would've liked to see their "talk" turn out.
Featured Characters: Calleigh Duquesne and Eric Delko.
Author's Note: Like several other "CSI: Miami" fans and fanfic authors, I was completely thrilled by the scenes between Calleigh & Eric in episode 14 of Season 8, entitled "In the Wind." After 7 long years of waiting, Hiphugger fans FINALLY got the steamy E/C love scene we've been begging for forever! I was particularly intrigued by Eric & Calleigh's locker-room chat "about last night" towards the end of the episode, where she mentions that they keep saying that "it's not going to happen anymore;" and implies that they need to talk in private, presumably about their relationship. I found this scene so inspiring that it moved me to pen my very first "CSI: Miami" fanfic. My story picks up where that final E/C scene left off, with the couple heading home to engage in their long-overdue conversation. Of course, depending on what the show-writers decide to do with Calleigh & Eric's relationship from this point forward, events in later episodes may contradict my story. Nonetheless, please consider this piece to be my version of this epic moment in Hiphugger History. :-)
RATING/WARNING: This story can most definitely be classified as a hard "M." Though this piece contains a smidge of angst and a healthy dose of emotional (self-) discovery, it also contains strong sexual content as well some mature language, particularly in Part 3. All of the explicit elements are appropriately contextual and suitable for adult readers, but they are definitely NOT for kiddies. Therefore, if you are considered underage in your country of residence, or the exchange of bodily fluids makes you queasy (smile), please STOP reading here. Otherwise, I sincerely hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from "CSI: Miami," or any dialogue from the script for the episode that I've incorporated into my story. The rights to those characters, the script and to the show belong to the creators of the show, Jerry Bruckheimer Television, and CBS.
The Talk
by Mia
Part 1 - Anticipation
"I don't know that we should talk about it here." Calleigh's deceptively simple suggestion rang in Eric's ears, causing him to experience a feeling of hopeful expectancy coupled with a niggling sense of unease.
Expectancy, because he hoped that their evening together would lead to them picking up where they'd left off hours earlier; when the insistent vibrating of his damned "Crackberry," had interrupted them just as they'd been about to kick-off round two of a bout of toe-curling sex. It had been clear from the look in Calleigh's eyes that she'd been hungry, and devouring him had been the only thing on the menu. He'd been only too happy to oblige her, but evidently fate - and the Bradstone case - had had other ideas.
Unease, because, in Eric's experience, when a woman expressed the need to "talk" about something, the conversation that followed usually wasn't lighthearted or positive. Given Calleigh's present state of mind, he was certain that their discussion wouldn't involve any declarations of undying love on her part, as much as he wanted to hear them. In fact, he was pretty sure that her agenda would consist of reaffirming their promise not to let "it happen anymore" (as she put it), even though the signals that her fathomless green eyes and luscious body were sending him, said otherwise. Of course, he hadn't let her see any of his nagging self-doubt when they'd talked in the CSI locker room a few minutes ago. Instead, he'd poured on the sensual charisma and boyish charm, giving her a roguish smirk as he'd proposed, "Your place or mine?" The smile that he'd hoped to coax from her had broken across her pretty face like a sunrise, warming him all the way to his toes. The flicker of hesitancy behind her grin hadn't escaped him, but he'd decided that, for the time being, he'd settle for making her laugh. Hopefully, if he played his cards right this evening, he'd make sure that, in the future, that beautiful smile reached her eyes. As much as the prospect of the dreaded "talk" made him break out in a cold-sweat, he recognized that any chance for them to converse was an opportunity for him to try to undo the damage that he'd done to their fledgling romantic relationship. After all, it was his failure to communicate with her that had put a major dent in things just when they'd been getting off the ground.
Eric quietly cursed himself as he made the seemingly interminable drive to Calleigh's place. (At her insistence, they'd taken separate cars). He realized that he'd made a mess of things by not confiding in her about everything that had been going on with his biological father, Alexander Sharova. Eric had had the best of intentions - after all, he'd only been taking Sharova away from the crime scene so the older man could turn himself in - but Delko had also been well aware that his methods had skirted dangerously close to ethical borders. He knew how important Calleigh's professional integrity was to her, and he hadn't wanted to put her in the untenable position of having to choose between her fierce dedication to her job and her feelings for him. After he'd regained consciousness at the hospital - before IAB's "no contact" order - she'd sat vigil by his bedside for hours, fighting back tears of relief as she'd tenderly stroked his hand. When he'd met her gaze, she'd greeted him with a bright smile, but her eyes had been guarded, cautious. Even through the haze of grogginess and pain medication, he could tell that her walls had begun to creep up.
And then, as if that hadn't been bad enough, he knew that his abrupt resignation from CSI and departure for Puerto Rico had been the last straw. Calleigh was a woman who didn't trust easily; not that he could blame her. It seemed that, throughout her life, every man she'd loved or cared deeply about had either abandoned her or spectacularly let her down. First, there was her alcoholic father, whose mercurial moods had forced her to grow up way too fast. Hagen had killed himself right behind her; and, then, out of the blue, Jake had vanished out of her life as suddenly as he'd reappeared. (Though, for selfish reasons, Delko hadn't been particularly broken-up about Jake exiting the picture). Understandably, she must have perceived Eric's unexpected decision to leave CSI without telling her beforehand, as a mere continuation of her abysmal track record where men were concerned.
That day would forever be imprinted in his memory. Even now, he winced as the unpleasant recollections ran through his mind. He hadn't counted on Calleigh finding out about all of it the way she had. Hell, he hadn't even planned on resigning from CSI when he'd come into work that morning. But nothing that day had turned out as he'd anticipated, or wanted, for that matter. Witnessing the senseless deaths of Ethan Durant and his girlfriend from botulism poisoning had thrown Eric's life into a complete tailspin. He'd felt like a part of him had died with them - the part that had remained optimistic despite his daily encounters with death and the worst of humanity; the part that had felt that he was making a positive change in the world by being a CSI. When he'd put the engagement ring that Ethan had bought for Lauren on her finger in the morgue, it was the first time that he could remember a case making him cry at work.
He'd planned on heading home and spending the evening trying to come to grips with the jumbled web of chaotic thoughts bouncing around in his head before breaking the news to Calleigh. But when they'd run into each other in the CSI locker-room, she'd predictably determined in a single guess that he was leaving CSI for good. He'd wanted to explain everything to her right then, to let her know that his career change wouldn't affect their relationship, but the words had congealed in his throat the moment he'd taken in her pained expression and the doubt reflected in her eyes. She'd rebuilt her walls - more impenetrable and insurmountable than ever - and they'd paralyzed him.
They'd stayed in touch by phone during Eric's trip to Puerto Rico, but not being able to see her lovely face, to hold her, to make love to her, for weeks on end had taken a tremendous toll on him. He'd missed her so much that it had bordered on physical pain. So much so that when Villani had sought him out and offered him a job as her expert witness on the Summer Davenport murder case, he'd largely accepted the position because it would give him an excuse to be close to Calleigh again. When they'd met at the Davenport crime scene, she'd looked like a ray of sunshine cutting through the dark existence that had been his life without her in it. Despite her polite reserve, he could tell that she'd missed him just as much as he had her. Later that day, when she'd told him "Miami missed you," he'd recognized the thinly-veiled metaphor in her admission.
The second those words had left her mouth, he'd determined that he'd move heaven and earth to have her back in his life again. In actuality, that had been much easier said than done, in some respects. The sizzling attraction between them had never diminished, so reconnecting physically had been the easy part. The first time had been after Talbot had offered him a job as a forensic expert with the State Attorney's Office. Since Calleigh had tipped Eric off about the open position, he'd invited her to have dinner with him by way of celebration. After a delicious meal, even better conversation, and a few too many glasses of wine, they'd ended up in Calleigh's bed, ravaging each other in a fit of love-making that had been almost desperate in its intensity. Since then, they'd spent time together often, always with the same outcome: sweaty, eye-popping sex coupled with easy camaraderie, but little more.
Now, thanks no doubt to his royal screw-ups, Calleigh seemed hell-bent on treating him like a close pal who she turned to for sex as a last resort, when her urge-to-merge became too strong to suppress. But Eric wasn't content to be merely her best friend-with-benefits, or, worse yet, stuck in that infernal no-man's-land between trusted sidekick and lover. They'd been through too much together - and he loved her too much - for that.
Somehow, he had to make her see that what they had was different, that he was different. He knew he'd let her down and betrayed the trust that she'd so cautiously placed in his hands. And he was also just as sure that he'd never repeat the stupid mistakes he'd made if she ever opened herself up completely to him again. She was everything to him, and he was ready to spend the rest of his life proving it to her. Hopefully, tonight would be a start.
On the drive back to her place, Calleigh mulled over her recent conversation with Eric, taking a deep, steadying breath as she tried to quell the butterflies in her stomach. She'd known him for a dozen years already, but her body still lit up like a nightlight whenever he was around. She cringed as she remembered how she'd reacted when she'd run into him in the CSI locker-room at the end of the workday. As soon as she'd caught a glimpse of him sitting there sporting that "wife-beater" shirt, her nipples had instantly perked up, turning as hard as pencil-erasers. She thanked her lucky stars she'd been wearing a jacket that had effectively barred them from his ardent stare; although she was sure that he'd noticed the slight blush that had colored her cheeks when she'd imagined herself removing the offending tank top, along with the rest of his clothing. It seemed like she couldn't be in the same room with him without wanting to rip his clothes off and have her wanton way with him.
"Get a grip, Duquesne," she silently scolded herself. As much as Eric's mere presence tended to dampen her panties, tonight, she'd have to summon every ounce of her willpower to keep her skivvies on, because they had more pressing matters to discuss. Like what exactly was going on with their relationship.
Ah yes, their relationship. That certainly was the question of the hour, now wasn't it? For weeks, they'd danced around the proverbial thousand-pound-gorilla-in-the-living room, cautiously avoiding the subject even though it constantly followed them around like an annoying shadow. Calleigh wondered sadly how the unspoken but happy understanding they'd come to when they'd first crossed the line from friends to lovers, had devolved into this. That day when she'd taken Eric home with her from the Immigration Detention Center after his brush with deportation, had been the first time they'd made love. (The promised dinner hadn't come until hours later, when the need for sustenance had made further sexual adventures impossible). Finally able to express the attraction and emotions that they'd kept reined in for too long, they'd practically ravished each other, the banished prospect of prolonged separation lending an air of relief and urgency to the encounter. Admittedly, since that day, they'd never actually defined their relationship, but back then, they'd both intuitively known that they were embarking on something wonderful, something they'd both wanted for years, something that would stand the test of time.
But that wasn't how things had turned out, had they? She and Eric had barely had a chance to revel in their blossoming intimate relationship when she'd begun to feel him pulling away from her, keeping things from her. He'd always been a terrible liar, especially where she was concerned. First, it had been the debacle involving his biological father; and then, the unhappiness that had caused his unexpected resignation from CSI. His internal struggles had cast shadows across his striking features, tugging at her heartstrings. She'd tried to reach him, to gently persuade him to confide in her without pushing too hard - something she would have done even if they'd still been platonic friends. But he'd evaded her invitations to share, apparently preferring to deal with things on his own while keeping her in the dark.
The day Eric had walked away from his career at CSI had easily been one the worst days of her life. Since she'd started dating in her teenage years, she'd sworn that she'd never be that girl, the one who cried over a man and turned into a blubbering mess when their romance eventually ended. But she'd broken every rule in her book when Eric had confirmed her guess that he was leaving the unit for good: She'd plaintively asked him what that meant for their relationship; and when he'd answered her with an ambiguous "You know me too well," she'd felt like the floor had dropped out from under her. She'd already promised Natalia that they'd stop by the organic Community Garden after work, but, in actuality, she had absolutely no memory of that event. The next thing she recalled about that fateful day was driving home in a daze, barely within the sanctuary of her house before collapsing into ragged sobs. The next day, she'd steeled her resolve, determined to brush herself off and get on with life, like she always did after a man she cared about left her in the lurch. But then, Eric had had to ruin her already thin facade by calling to tell her that he'd be taking a trip to Puerto Rico. That night, she'd fallen asleep on his favorite pillow of hers - the one that had still carried his uniquely-intoxicating scent - bawling like a baby.
Since then, she'd managed to pull herself together admirably - she'd been all cried-out anyway - and had focused on work, her only reliable solace. But she hadn't quite been able to get Eric out of her mind, or out of her system. She'd missed his embrace, his endearingly-devilish grin, waking up to him first thing in the morning after a night of earth-shattering sex; but most of all, she'd missed her best friend. So when his daily calls had started coming in shortly after the Davenport murder case had wrapped up, it had been all-too-easy to fall into familiar patterns. Phone chats had turned into face-to-face dinners, and, before long, into breakfasts-in-bed, together.
And now, here they were, stuck in limbo somewhere between best friends and star-crossed lovers, both seemingly afraid to make a move. Well, tonight that would change, come hell or high water, Calleigh determined. In a few minutes, he'd walk through her front door and they'd have the long-overdue "talk" about their unsettled relationship. The thought caused another swarm of butterflies to invade her already nervous stomach. Funny how just the mere contemplation of seeing him could still make her feel like a virgin on prom night; in spite of all the ups-and-downs in their relationship, their sexual chemistry had always remained constant. Good thing she'd asked him to pick up Japanese takeout on the way to her place ... it'd give her a few minutes to get herself together and prepare for what was likely to be one of the most difficult conversations of her life. She toyed briefly with the idea of changing out of her work clothes and into something more comfortable, but she quickly decided against it, lest it be perceived as an invitation for them to hop in the sack again. That's what had happened every other time he'd come over to her place to "visit," and the last thing they needed was another excuse to take the path of least resistance.
Part 2 - Conversation
Despite the upcoming discussion that hung over them like an ominous cloud, dinner was surprisingly relaxed and pleasant. But then again, simply being together had always been easy for them - after years of being the closest of friends, they practically finished each other's sentences. Eric was his usual irresistible self, sprinkling their seamless conversation with jokes and amusing anecdotes that had her in stitches throughout most of their meal. It was almost enough to distract her from what lay ahead. Almost.
Once the takeout cartons had been discarded and the dinnerware washed and put away, it was time to face the inevitable.
"I don't suppose you wanna catch something on TV, do you?" Eric's attempt at levity belied the nervousness that had his palms sweating.
"Uh, no." Calleigh rolled her eyes playfully at his feeble effort at humor. As she plopped down on the soft couch in the living room, she couldn't help but recall the many nights that they'd put this particular piece of furniture to a very different use. The memory brought a heated flush to her face. She'd had no clue that it was possible to have sex in so many positions on a sofa, but Eric had been only too happy to educate her on every single one of them. It was a wonder they hadn't broken the damn thing in half already.
"Not tonight, though," she reminded herself sternly. She leaned back against one of the plush cushions, her eyes signaling him to join her. He sat beside her, deliberately leaving a respectable amount of space between them, clasping his hands to keep the anxious tremors at bay.
"Calleigh-" "Eric-" they began simultaneously, and then they chuckled nervously at their mutual gaffe.
"You first," Eric said. "After all, you're the one who wanted to talk after work." His tone was calm and amiable, in contrast to the staccato beats of his heart drumming apprehensively behind his ribcage.
Calleigh drew an edgy, uneven breath, willing her suddenly leaden tongue to move. "This has been a long time coming," she began earnestly. He merely nodded his agreement, silently encouraging her to elaborate. "I think we both know that we can't keep on doing this ... whatever this is." She gestured aimlessly into the air around her, conveying her meaning.
"And I suppose going back to the way we were before isn't an option, is it?" He asked the question, but he already knew the answer.
She shook her head emphatically. "You hurt me, Eric," she responded, confirming his suspicions. "I opened myself up to you, and you shut me out ... and then you left," she finished, her voice cracking slightly with emotion.
"I've really fucked this up, haven't I?" he silently berated himself.
Eric gulped past the lump that had formed his throat before answering her. "Calleigh, please believe that the last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you. You mean the world to me; you know that." On impulse, he reached out to squeeze her shoulder, but quickly retracted his hand, unsure whether she'd welcome his touch at this precise moment. "I realize now that I should have come to you. I know your trust isn't something you give away easily, and my biggest regret is that I betrayed that trust by not being upfront with you about everything."
"Then why didn't you ... come to me?" she challenged. "I felt so powerless and alone when I sensed you pulling away from me."
Remorse washed over him as he absorbed her words. "Looking back on it now, I guess I didn't tell you about what was going on with my father because I wanted to protect you. When you were kidnapped by Seth McAdams and his cohort a couple of years ago, you have no idea how relieved I was when you walked into Club Descent alive. I felt like I'd gotten my life back. That day, I swore to myself that I'd do everything in my power to make sure that no one else ever hurt you. So I couldn't very well go putting your safety at risk due to the danger surrounding me because of Sharova."
"Eric, you know I can take care of myself. I've even saved your hide a few times, as I recall," she reminded him with a wink.
"I know, but I still worry about you, Cal. Asking me not to is like asking water not to be wet." Her lips quirked slightly in response to his lighthearted observation.
"Plus, I didn't want to put you in the awkward position of having to choose between reporting me and compromising your ethics. You warned me to be careful with my father, but I couldn't not help him ... after he stepped up to the plate for me with the Immigration authorities, I felt like I owed him, even though I obviously didn't agree with his criminal ties. Of course, you know I never had any intentions of breaking the law, but what I did to help my father came pretty close to crossing the line. And I didn't want to drag you down with me, so I figured that the less you knew, the better."
She indicated her empathy with a subtle incline of her head. While she'd hated feeling like Eric was holding out on her, at least she'd been able to honestly tell IAB that she'd known nothing about his activities involving Sharova, thus leaving her professional reputation untarnished.
"Hey, who hasn't done crazy stuff in the name of family, right?" she offered drolly. Calleigh remembered the years she'd spent "rescuing" her father from the many jams he'd gotten himself into when he'd been on one of his trademark drunken binges. She'd never endangered her badge while bailing her dad out, but she could certainly relate to feeling responsible for the well-being of a parent, even a crappy one.
"True," Eric added, breaking her reverie, "but I see now that by not being totally honest with you, I hurt you more than if I'd just told you everything in the first place. Pretty ironic, huh?"
She couldn't argue with his logic. But they both knew that this wasn't the incident that had truly derailed their relationship.
Responding to the lingering question in her gaze, Eric continued, "But I guess what you really wanna know is why I left CSI so suddenly, and then why I took off for Puerto Rico like a bat outta hell." Calleigh nodded, not quite meeting his eyes lest he see the tears threatening to fall from hers. She'd always made it a point never to cry in the presence of the man responsible for her tears, and she wasn't about to buck the trend now. But something about Eric's wounded look made the floodgates want to come crashing open.
"Why did you walk away?" she whispered. "From your career ... and from us?" He noticed her bottom lip quiver as she uttered that last word.
"Cal, if I could rewind to one day in my life and do it all over differently, it would be the day I left CSI," he said hoarsely. "I didn't plan for any of it to turn out the way it did. Honestly, if someone had told me when I woke up that morning that I'd be resigning from the department by the end of the day, I would've laughed in their face." His sardonic chuckle was a cheerless one. "I'm sure you could tell that I wasn't a hundred percent happy to be back at CSI after my second stint in the hospital."
"Yeah," she agreed. "You didn't seem like yourself. And, that day at the hospital, when we were working the botulism poisoning case, you said you wished that you felt happy to be back at work."
"Truth is, I'd been feeling sorta restless for several weeks before that, and even more so after I got out of the hospital. I didn't say anything at first because I thought it was just the after-effects of the bullet shifting in my brain and the surgery. When I first got shot three years back, I felt out-of-sorts for awhile, and I was hoping this would pass too. But it didn't."
"Even when Stetler forbid us from communicating, I could see that you were hurting, Eric. Why didn't you tell me, at least when we were allowed to talk again?"
"Believe me, baby, I wanted to more than anything. But I myself couldn't make sense of everything running around in my mind, much less try to explain it to someone else. I was so confused ... loving my job one minute and hating it the next ... it was like someone had put my feelings in a blender. I figured I'd give it some time ... for me to sort my thoughts out, you know? And I believed I had that time, until ..."
" ... the day Lauren and Ethan died," she finished.
"You always were good at reading me," Eric responded, repeating the words he'd said to Calleigh on that eventful afternoon. The glint of recognition in her eyes indicated that she'd caught the reference.
"God knows that, in the 8-9 years I'd been a CSI, we'd seen our share of death - even the goriest kind," he noted. "But it was different ... watching Lauren and Ethan die ... seeing two young lives, full of possibilities, just snuffed out like that ... I felt so helpless ..." he trailed off, his voice swallowed up by emotion. "Something inside me broke that day, Calleigh. All of a sudden, I felt like the walls were closing in on me, like I just had to get away from CSI as fast as I could, you know what I mean?"
"I felt the same way after Hagen died in the ballistics lab," she perceptively replied. Hagen's suicide had shaken her so much that she'd temporarily transferred to Trace Evidence. For months, she hadn't been able to visit the ballistics lab without replaying that terrible incident in her head.
"Next thing I knew, I was giving H my resignation," Eric concluded.
"I can understand that ... but why Puerto Rico?" Why'd you run away from us? The hurt, unspoken query in Calleigh's eyes pierced his heart like a dagger.
"Querida, that was absolutely the biggest mistake I ever made ... walking away from you like that, without clarifying things on-the-spot. There was never any doubt in my mind that we were gonna stay together after I left CSI. In fact, the only 'plus' I could see in my leaving CSI was that we could finally be together out in the open, without worrying about Stetler. All the stuff you said about life being too short and CSI not being the only game in town ... I thought you were just talking about my career. And I was too caught up in my own mixed-up feelings to realize that you might have thought we were talking about our relationship. I didn't truly see how much I'd screwed everything up until the next day, when I called to tell you about Puerto Rico. Or should I say, to invite you to go with me. I hadn't taken a real vacation in years, and I needed to get away and recharge my batteries. I thought that, after some time away, I wouldn't feel so burnt-out. But I'd always intended on taking you with me, Cal."
"But you were gone for six weeks ..." she countered.
"Initially, I'd only planned on being there for a week or two, max. I knew that you wouldn't be able to take any more time than that off from work, so I organized the trip around your schedule. But when I called you that morning to ask you to go with me, it was obvious that you assumed I was traveling alone. And you sounded so cheerful, so glad that I was gonna be taking off by myself ... I felt like you'd already written me out of your life."
"Oh Eric," Calleigh sighed, wondering how they'd gotten their wires so crossed. "I was only trying to make things easier for you ... for us. I thought you wanted out of our relationship, so I didn't want to make things awkward by being presumptuous."
"And I should have recognized that. After all these years, I know that just because you're perky doesn't necessarily mean you're happy." She acknowledged his intuitiveness with a wry smile.
"But, at that moment, I was too emotionally drained to dig deeper. I figured that I'd make things right once I'd had a chance to clear my head. Before I knew it, my one-week vacation turned into six weeks. And as much as I love Puerto Rico, I think I really stayed as long as I did because I was searching for something to ease the restlessness, to fill the void. But I see now that I could never have found that peace without you by my side. Waking up in the morning, lying on the beach, watching the sunset every day ... all I could think of was you, and how much better everything would've been if you'd been there with me."
"I had no idea you felt that way, Eric."
"It's no wonder, since I've done such a piss-poor job of telling you or showing you lately. Truth is, sometimes it scares me how much I need you, Cal. But I wouldn't have it any other way. Like I told you in the hospital a year ago, I can't imagine living my life without you, and I mean it now more than ever."
"So, what now?" she queried.
"For starters, definitely not this 'friends-with-benefits' thing we've got going on here, even though I see stars every time we make love." Eric chose his words carefully, wanting to underscore that it could never really be "just sex" between them. "I was just going with the flow because I could tell you weren't ready for anything more, and I figured that any time with you was better than none. But it's not enough for me."
"Me neither," Calleigh conceded. "But-"
"I can't just be your friend, Cal," he interrupted. "And I can't just be your best friend who you have sex with occasionally, or even often. I want to be more than that to you ... I want us to be more than that to each other. You're it for me, baby, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes, for as long as it takes, for you to trust me not just with your body, but also with your heart."
"Eric," she said wistfully, but he persisted.
"Calleigh, I lo-" he began, but she cut him off by assaulting his lips with hers, pouring all of the feelings - passion, hurt, fear, and yes, love - that she'd tried so hard to suppress for so long, into the kiss.
She knew what he'd been about to say - it was written all over his face. There was no doubt in her mind that he was in love with her, and had been for years. But she didn't think she could hear him say it right now without completely falling apart in his arms. She felt too raw, too open, too vulnerable. But shutting him out with her trusty emotional walls wasn't an option, either. If she were honest with herself, that ship had sailed a long time ago. And besides, this was Eric, after all. She knew that he wouldn't let her fall on her face if she took that terrifying leap and bared her soul to him, but she wasn't quite ready to jump yet. So, for now, Calleigh did the only thing that she could.
"Shhh," she silenced him. "Don't tell me ... show me."
Part 3 - Resolution
Eric paused, the wheels turning in his head as he considered her request. For a moment, it seemed as though he were about to speak, despite her impassioned appeal for them to express themselves in actions rather than words.
"Make love to me, Eric," she persisted, giving him that wide-eyed, pleading look that never failed to turn him into a useless pile of mush. And Calleigh knew damn well that he'd be powerless to refuse her anything when she fixed him with that desirous stare. Truth be told, right then, he would've happily parted with one of his limbs if she'd asked for it. Predictably, he relented, reaching for her and pulling her into a breath-stealing kiss.
Eric nipped softly on her lower lip, seeking entrance to the warm cavern of her mouth. Access was eagerly granted, and soon, their tongues were dueling in a timeless dance, interspersed with pleasured gasps, panting breaths, and murmured sweet-nothings. Calleigh ran her fingers through his adorably wavy hair - which had grown out again, much to her delight - longing to pull him so close that they wouldn't know where she ended and he began. He grunted his approval, gripping her hips and jerking her flush against his muscular frame. The insistent throbbing of his rigid cock against her lower belly left no doubt as to her effect on him.
For the umpteenth time, Calleigh marveled at the fact that, with the slightest touch, Eric could set every nerve-ending in her body ablaze with heavenly sensations, like an overloaded circuit-board. They both still had their clothes on, but she was already thisclose to melting into a puddle of heated, horny goo at his feet. She'd given up long ago on trying to convince herself that his ability to play her body like a virtuoso stemmed from the mere fact that he was a gifted - and clearly, very experienced - lover. The men she'd dated before him had hardly been virgins, but it had never been quite like this with any of them; not even with Jake, who'd prided himself on knowing all of her "hot spots" like the back of his hand. Whenever she and Eric made love, it seemed as though his greatest pleasure was to explore and truly enjoy her body. And, in the process, he'd intuitively found all of those special spots, and introduced her to several more that she'd never even known she had. She was certain that if, God forbid, their foray into being more-than-friends didn't work out, it would never be like this again with anyone else. (She quickly banished that foreboding thought from her mind).
Despite her best efforts at denial, deep down she knew exactly why sex between her and Eric was always so phenomenal: Every kiss, every touch, every thrust of his hips when he was buried deep inside her, was driven by his obvious adoration for her; the love that shone in the chocolate-brown eyes that she drowned in every time he looked at her. And even though her self-protective instincts prevented her from admitting it aloud, the feeling was entirely mutual. Just as he'd said to her all those months ago when she'd been recovering from smoke inhalation in the hospital, she couldn't imagine her life without him either.
Desperate to see and touch his enchanting caramel skin, Calleigh reluctantly broke their kiss. As she struggled for breath, she barely managed to gasp out, "You're wearing too many clothes."
"I could say the same for you," Eric replied with a smile. He couldn't wait to get his hands on the succulent curves that lay beneath her businesslike leather jacket and pants.
In the blink of an eye, they undressed in a hasty flurry of recklessly-discarded garments, leaving him in a pair of suddenly-too-snug boxers, and her in a jaw-dropping black bra and miniscule thong. In the midst of this whirlwind exercise, they somehow managed to make it to the bedroom without breaking or bruising anything.
Calleigh wound her arms around his neck, rising on her tiptoes to capture his lips in another prolonged kiss that left them both trembling with arousal. As she peppered his jaw and neck with affectionate nips and licks, he brought his hands up to her breasts and pinched her achingly-sensitive nipples between his fingers and thumbs through the lace of her bra.
"Yes," she encouraged in a rapturous hiss. Eric continued to tantalize her turgid aureoles, making her sex tighten with anticipation.
Wanting to give as good as she got, Calleigh gently raked her fingernails over the rippling muscles of Eric's smooth, sinewy back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in her wake. She reached between their bodies and caressed his dick, already so stiff that the tip was peeking over the waistband of his boxers. He muttered a ripe curse when she circled a fingertip there, smearing a drop of precum all over his cockhead.
"Calleigh, baby, you're killing me here."
"Oh yeah?" she inquired with a sassy smirk. "You look just fine to me."
"Keep that up, and soon you're gonna be wiping my cum off your fingers," he lightheartedly warned.
"You say that like it's a bad thing," she teased. "Actually, that visual is getting me all hot-and-bothered."
"But this time when I come, Querida, I wanna be as deep inside you as I can possibly get."
Now that was a helluva visual. "I suppose you do have a point," she conceded, sighing melodramatically for effect.
"Besides, you still have too much on for my taste," he added. As if to underscore his comment, Eric shoved a finger under the crotch of her skimpy panties and between the slippery folds of her pussy.
"Jesus, Cal ... you're so wet," he ground out in that sexy bedroom voice that never failed to set her senses on fire. This time was no different - the words were barely out of his mouth before another rush of moisture coated his questing digits.
"These have to come off, now," he commanded gruffly, so turned-on that he was about to lose his mind.
"If you want them off, then take 'em off," she taunted, her flirtatious look daring him to rip the thong off her.
"Smart-ass," he grumbled playfully before reaching out and yanking sharply at the flimsy undergarment. The wispy material gave way easily and dropped to the floor, quickly forgotten.
Calleigh adeptly unhooked the front clasp of her bra, reveling in the way his eyes widened hungrily as her breasts bounced free. She turned and tossed this last bit of lingerie carelessly onto the nearby love-seat, giving Eric an enticing side view of her temptingly pert ass.
Now that all of her was revealed to him, his eyes avidly roamed over every peak and valley of her flawless form, from her graceful neck, past the narrow strip of fleecy pubic curls that pointed to heaven, all the way down to her toenails, which were painted a charming shade of hot pink that was totally, completely and unmistakably Calleigh.
"You're so gorgeous," he breathed, completely in awe of her.
Any response that she could possibly have hoped to come up with instantly died on her tongue the second he grazed his thumbs over her pebbled nipples. She arched into his touch, wordlessly urging him to continue. Answering her unspoken demand, he cupped the rounded swells of her perfect breasts, testing their weight in his greedy palms. Then he began to trace lazy circles on her supple flesh, approaching - but, to her utter chagrin, never quite reaching - the pouting, dusky pink peaks that begged for his attention. Calleigh squirmed impatiently under his artful stroking, trying to direct his touch to where she craved it most. But Eric was having none of it, determined to torment her, it seemed.
"Eric, please ..." she entreated in a moan.
"Hmmm?"
"Please ... touch me."
"But I am touching you, mi corazón [sweetheart]," he replied with mock innocence, knowing exactly what she yearned for.
Calleigh was well aware that he was toying with her, and normally she would play along, but right now she was too acutely aroused for slow, sensual games. With a sigh of sexual frustration, she tried again. "I need you to touch me ... here." By way of demonstration, she brought her own fingertips to her breasts and squeezed her nipples, gasping as unexpected shards of exquisite sensation skittered through her body.
Eric's eyes darkened with desire as he watched her caress herself, and he wondered for a moment if he was dreaming. He'd honestly never seen anything hotter in his life than Calleigh pushing her own buttons. Anxious to join in the fun, he covered her hands with his, and, in no time, he'd completely taken over the task of plucking the stimulated nubbins, which were now as red and firm as rubies.
He hadn't even kissed her breasts yet, and already she felt the beginnings of a raging orgasm forming deep in her belly. The heavenly feelings were too much for her legs to withstand, and her knees buckled beneath her. As always, he was right there to catch her, holding her closely against his well-built frame to keep her upright.
"God, Cal ... I want you so much," he whispered huskily in her ear. His fiery breath washed over the sensitive pulse-point at the base of her jaw, earning him a longing whimper from the object of his affection.
Starting at the delicate shell of her ear, Eric's mouth painted down the beguiling canvas of Calleigh's neck, drawing a hitched breath from her when his teeth gently scraped against that magical spot where the graceful arc of her shoulder began. All the while, his hands wandered ceaselessly over every bit of flesh they could reach, and she reciprocated in kind. With agonizing slowness, his lips paid homage to the receptive skin of her clavicle and the valley between her breasts before surrounding one of her rosy, puckered nipples. Not wanting to neglect its companion, his hand ventured towards her right breast, and he began to pinch and tug sensuously on the distended point that capped the pliant mound. Despite her throaty pleas for him to hurry, he continued his leisurely worship of her bosom for several seemingly-endless minutes before switching his attentions, suckling and rolling his tongue on her right nipple while tweaking its neighbor. With a breathy sob of pleasure, she hung onto his powerful biceps for dear life, since her legs had rapidly morphed into jello.
Calleigh covered the brawny wall of Eric's chest with adoring kisses, loving the way the muscles trembled under her butterfly caresses. Her hands eventually moved to the waistband of his boxers, and he hastened to help her remove this last piece of obstructive clothing. But she brushed aside his assistance, instead making an elaborate show of dropping to her knees before him and sliding his underwear off at a painfully dilatory pace. The action brought her eye-to-eye with his rampant, overheated prick, which arched towards her in invitation.
She readily accepted, wrapping one hand around the base of his shaft and cradling his tight balls with the other before drawing him towards her lips. She was already salivating at the prospect of tasting his earthy, male, and totally addictive flavor. She swirled her tongue around the glistening, bulbous head, and then engulfed him in the hot, moist haven of her mouth, mewling contentedly like a cat with a bowl of cream. It took every ounce of willpower Eric possessed to stop himself from threading his fingers through her hair and ramming himself down her throat like a Neanderthal. Not that he would have needed to, anyhow, as gifted as Calleigh was at reading him, in and out of bed. Sensing what he desired, she swallowed him so deeply that he felt himself brushing against her tonsils.
"Christ, Calleigh," he howled. "That feels-" the rest of the statement was lost when she did this little trick with her tongue that made him forget his own name, along with his train of thought.
Even though he knew it would undermine his already tenuous hold on his self-control, Eric risked a glance down at her. Her eyes captivated him, glittering with racy promises and ribald sensuality. She held his gaze, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked powerfully on his pole. Watching Calleigh go down on him was almost enough to make him lose his load right there, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from spewing everywhere. He cupped her chin to stop the skilled maneuvers of her lips and tongue, his legs so wobbly that he staggered slightly as he drew her up to face him.
"How about we move this to the bed?" he suggested.
Her voice was, by all appearances, on temporary hiatus in the wake of her arousal, so she had to make do with nodding her assent.
He laid her down on the silky sheets, making sure that her head was resting comfortably on a fluffy pillow before moving over her; propping himself up on his forearms to avoid crushing her under his weight. His thoughtfulness made her heart swell - he was always looking out for her, both as a friend and as a lover. Then, he began to kiss his way down her body, mumbling and humming his delight as he gradually progressed to his intended destination. He briefly detoured to nip gently on her nipples and soothe them with flutters of his tongue, before continuing his journey south.
When Calleigh realized where Eric was headed, her shoulders darted up off the mattress, and she moaned expectantly, gripping the sheets until her knuckles turned white.
"Eric!" she urged in a keening cry.
"Just lay back and let me eat you, baby," he ordered gently.
She loved it when he talked dirty to her. His explicit language sent a frisson of excitement racing down her spine, and her thighs automatically parted in welcome.
He latched onto her weeping sex like a starving man, slurping lasciviously at her cream as though it were ambrosia.
"Damn, Cal ... you taste so good," he groaned. His gravelly voice reverberated against her inflamed folds, making her thighs clench against his broad shoulders.
Eric had had a sixth sense that Calleigh's pussy would be just as sweet as the rest of her, and the first time they'd slept together, the reality of her had far surpassed his wildest dreams. From the moment he'd first touched his tongue to her clit and sampled her tangy-sweet honey, he'd been instantly addicted to the treasure trove between her legs. He'd lap at her for hours if he could, until his tongue muscles gave out or she passed out from the pleasure.
He pulled back for a second to regain his bearings, suddenly dizzy with lust for the flaxen-haired beauty wriggling sensuously beneath him. His lips titled up in a conspiratorial smile as he decided to change the pace a little. Yes, he would savor her or die trying; keep her on the precipice until she was begging him to let her fall into mindless euphoria. He tickled her inner thighs and nether lips with his tongue, dotting them with reverent kisses and murmuring his enjoyment as he gorged himself on his favorite feast. Studiously avoiding the one spot where she needed his touch the most, he plumbed his tongue into her syrupy depths, luxuriating in the way her inner walls squeezed him like a vise. Calleigh bucked and writhed against his mouth, sighing fretfully as he nimbly avoided her efforts to guide him to her straining clit. Finally, he gave into her insistent, beseeching moans and whimpers, separating her sticky labia with the pads of his thumbs and exposing the throbbing bud that sat at the zenith of her cleft.
A pair of fingers slipped into her orifice, followed by the delicious curling of his tongue against the bundle of nerves that sat just above it. Eric's other hand made its way beneath her butt and pulled her closer to his ravenous mouth. Over and over he circled her thrumming button while gliding his digits in and out of her sodden vagina, driving her totally insane with longing until she could feel the deep throbbing in her womb that signaled her imminent climax.
"Aah, Eric ... oh, sweet Lord ... I'm gonna come!" she gasped out.
Eric smiled against her quivering flesh, incredibly gratified at her passionate babbling. Witnessing the always "together" Calleigh Duquesne completely losing her composure when he made love to her, never failed to make his dick jerk with arousal. Wanting to push her over the edge, he sucked strongly on her engorged, berry-red clit and simultaneously curled his long fingers upward, rubbing directly on her G-spot.
That was all it took for Calleigh's orgasm to hit her with the force of a speeding freight train. A high-pitched wail of ecstasy left her throat as she came against his deft lips in a creamy gush.
After easing her down from her intense climax with feathery brushes of his lips and tongue, Eric raised his head, and with a somewhat self-satisfied smirk, looked up at the woman he loved more than anything else in this world. He hoped that someday soon, she'd give him the chance to tell her so in words; but, for now, he was determined to show her his feelings the best way he knew how: By lavishing her stunning body with pleasure until she couldn't take any more.
When the fireworks behind her eyes finally died down, Calleigh returned his gaze; unable to help blushing slightly when she noticed that the entire lower half of his handsome face was covered with her copious love-juices. Giving her a lascivious grin, Eric pulled his left palm from beneath her ass and ran it over his lips, cheeks and chin, swiping up the profusion of her sex fluids. Then, he slowly withdrew the drenched digits of his other hand from her still-rippling pussy.
"Mmmm," he moaned, gluttonously licking her slippery essence off the fingers of both his hands, as though it were the most delicious meal he'd ever had. The sight made her clit pulse, even though she'd come less than five minutes ago.
Feeling and hearing Calleigh explode on his tongue had made Eric harder than tungsten steel, and he was absolutely sure that he'd die if he wasn't inside her within the next ten seconds.
As though she'd read his mind, she opened her legs invitingly, exposing her gorgeously pink, swollen pussy to his ardent gaze. Valiantly tamping down the urge to come right then and there, he moved over her and pushed himself into her glistening slit. Despite his large size, he slid effortlessly into his petite, blonde bombshell, her velvety walls easing his passage. She enveloped him like the snuggest, sweetest glove - tight and wet and amazing. She felt like home, so right and so perfect that he had to pause and grit his teeth to keep from busting his nut like an inexperienced teenage boy.
Calleigh could tell what his struggle for control was costing him, and she couldn't resist a tiny flourish of feminine smugness at the effect she had on him. Deciding to torture him a little, she tilted her hips up slightly and deliberately contracted her internal muscles, reveling in the strangled groan that she received from him in response to her ministrations. With a knowing smirk, she leaned up and purred lustily in his ear, "Do I feel good, babe?" She followed her breathy question with a teasing nibble of his earlobe, which always drove him crazy.
"God, yeah," Eric growled. "You feel like heaven."
Unable to stay still any longer, he began to glide in and out of her sopping-wet tunnel in an unhurried, steady rhythm that had her toes curling into the mattress beneath her. She matched him thrust for thrust, delighting in the electric flashes that streaked through her body every time their hips met. Needing to feel his smooth, tan skin against hers more than she needed air, Calleigh snaked her arms around him and drew his torso down to her breasts, scoring her nails gently down his back. The friction between their damp flesh sent pinpricks of sensation blazing a scorching path straight from her nipples to her vibrating cavern. But it still wasn't enough to satisfy her unbridled craving for even more closeness between them, and she circled his lean hips with her sleek thighs, ratcheting up his arousal and eliciting a hoarse moan from his throat.
Eric smashed his lips against hers, eating at her mouth, the slithering of his tongue against hers mimicking the maddeningly-arousing motion of his cock. She was so responsive and uninhibited - gasping, panting and begging for more in that sexy, Southern drawl that always did him in - that she soon had him clinging desperately to a rapidly-disintegrating thread of control. He looked down at her, entranced by the way her lustrous locks surrounded her stunning face like a glossy cloud of spun gold. His whiskey-colored irises met the bewitching jade pools of her eyes, speaking directly to her soul and revealing the emotions that they couldn't yet bring themselves to put into words. He brushed his nose against hers in an Eskimo kiss, a gesture so excruciating in its tenderness that she had to close her eyes to keep them from filling with tears.
"Oh yes, Eric ... deeper ... please," she shamelessly implored in a breathless whimper.
Seeking to deepen the angle of penetration in response to her fervent request, he reached behind her knees and drew them up until her legs were draped over his shoulders. The new angle brought the head of his dick into direct contact with that deliciously volatile spot deep inside her that was guaranteed to send her rocketing into a screaming orgasm.
"Like this, baby?" he asked, punctuating each word of his question with a deep thrust. The change of position caused him to tap out an erotic tempo against her cervix that made any kind of coherent verbal retort completely impossible. None was needed though, as her gratified cry was answer enough.
Calleigh's world was spinning out of control, and she was loving every second of it. Pulsating waves of sweet agony crested over her, catapulting her closer and closer to the brink. Her rippling passage felt like a thousand little fingers caressing Eric's length, smothering his cock and balls with the wetness that flowed freely from her like a trickling brook.
"I can feel you ... all around my dick," he observed in a shiver-inducing, low growl. "You're about to come, aren't you, baby?" he rasped, unable to hide the slightly smug inflection in his voice.
If she hadn't been so far-gone, Calleigh might have called him on his arrogant tone. But, at this point, she was focused solely on chasing the mind-blowing orgasm that hovered within her reach. Her passion-addled brain was incapable of fashioning one of her signature coy responses, and she could only manage a breathy admission, "God yes, Eric ... I'm so close ..."
"Then let go, Cal. Lemme hear you scream."
Eric reached down between their sweat-dampened bodies and firmly strummed his fingers over the tingling bundle of nerves at the apex of her core, earning himself a yelp - yes, Calleigh Duquesne actually yelped - in response. Then he pinched her pulsating clit between his finger and thumb, seeking to give her that final nudge into rapture.
As if on cue, Calleigh exploded with a shrill cry of his name, as the most blissfully-intense shudders of her life racked her flushed body. A rush of slick moisture squirted from her convulsing center, drenching his prick and dripping onto the bedsheets beneath them. The exquisite squeezing of her channel sucked on the sensitive head of Eric's cock, milking his precum from him. It was more than he could stand, and it obliterated the last vestiges of his control.
"Oh shit, Calleigh ... you feel too good ... you're gonna make me cum, Querida," he bit out through clenched teeth.
Still caught up in the throes of her bone-melting climax, Calleigh craved nothing more than to feel his warm semen bathing her womb. "Give it to me, Eric ... come inside me," she encouraged in a husky whisper.
That did it. With an ecstatic roar, he shot what felt like a quart of jism into her clutching pussy, in a series of hot spurts that seemed to go on forever. He collapsed on top of her and buried his face in her neck, drained and boneless from what was quite possibly the most intense orgasm of his natural life.
Once he'd regained control of his muscles, Eric began to roll off of her, mindful of crushing her petite frame. But Calleigh locked her legs resolutely around his waist, holding him inside her, unwilling to break the contact just yet.
"Wait ... stay for a minute?" she asked.
As if he could ever have refused such a request. Still too out-of-breath to form actual words, he pressed his pelvis against hers by way of answer, moaning as she planted sweet kisses on his chin. Thankfully, his limbs seemed to be functioning again, so he supported his upper body on his elbows, giving himself the perfect vantage point from which to drink her in with his eyes. They remained in this state of dreamy intimacy for a few minutes, until their racing pulses began to return to normal.
When they could both finally see straight, Eric slowly withdrew from her dewy warmth, the slurping noise of his retreating cock cutting through the sounds of their still-labored breathing. Calleigh mewled quietly at the loss, and at the erotic sensation of their combined juices pouring out of her and running down the crack of her ass. He followed the direction of her gaze, and looked down just in time to glimpse their mixed fluids joining her own plentiful nectar on the mattress. The sight made his cock twitch (drained though it was), forcing a final drop of seed from the slit at its tip. As he moved to lie beside her, that lone remaining drop of cum dangled precariously off the head of his dick for a split-second before falling onto her creamy thigh.
Before he had a chance to react, she swiftly coasted her hand down past her taught stomach and swiped up the pearly bead of moisture. With a sly, meaningful smile, she fastened her kiss-swollen lips around her fingers and sucked it off with a moan of relish. It was all Eric could do not to whimper at the sight. As he watched her emerald orbs glinting with mischief, he was struck again by just how much he loved this woman. Not to mention the incredible things she did to his private parts. After the mind-bending orgasm he'd just had, he'd sworn that his prick would be comatose for at least the next twelve hours. But already, his most treasured appendage was waking up, hardening in response to the seductive picture she presented.
"Whoa ... down boy," he admonished himself. Hopefully, if the stars aligned, there would be plenty of time for round two later. Right now, there were more important things to attend to, like what was on the mind of the blonde beauty lying next to him with a sated look on her lovely face. As borderline-corny as it sounded, if someone had asked him for the definition of "beautiful," he would've given them a snapshot of her at this very moment. He decided that her glowing, satisfied look was one that he could definitely get used to, one that he'd easily give his right arm to see again and again. Unable to resist his yearning to touch her, he reached out and brushed a luminous strand of hair off her cheek, tucking it tenderly behind her ear.
Suddenly, Eric felt the irrepressible urge to speak, needing to let Calleigh know just how much it meant to him to be here with her, like this.
"Calleigh ..." he tentatively began. He hoped that, this time, she wouldn't interrupt the tumult of emotions that he needed to get off his chest. "You've gotta know that there's no place on earth I'd rather be right now, or anytime, than right here with you."
"Same here," she quietly replied, doodling invisible designs on his pecs with her fingertips. "We've always been good together, you and me ..." she drifted off, as though suddenly afraid she'd admitted too much. The tinge of hesitation in her tone twisted in Eric's gut like a knife, filling him with blind panic.
"I can't lose you, baby; I don't know what I'd do without you. Not just in my bed, but in my life." He stressed that last word, wanting to make the distinction clear. "As amazing as our sex-life is, this isn't just about sex for me ... it never has been and never will be. I need you, Calleigh ... all of you."
"Eric," she sighed, and through the windows of her shimmering green eyes, he could see the walls around her heart melting, letting him in.
"I know you think that you're not ready to hear this, but I'm gonna say it anyway ... I love you, Calleigh. I started falling for you from the day we first met in the MDPD's Vehicle Storage garage twelve years ago, and I haven't stopped since. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, bar none. Please say you'll give us another chance, Querida. I think we owe at least that much to each other, after all that we've been through together."
Unable to trust her quavering voice, Calleigh tenderly cupped his cheek and gave him a heartfelt kiss, trying to convey the enormity of what she felt for him.
Thinking that she was trying to avoid the subject - as she'd done before - Eric tried to give her an "out," as much as it broke his heart to do so. "I totally understand if you don't feel the same way yet, after the way I hurt you, but I'm willing to wait forever, if that's what it takes," he assured her.
Again, here he was, putting her first, trying to make things easier for her even though it was probably killing him inside. Only this time, there was no need for an escape route - Calleigh was right where she wanted to be, with the man she wanted to share her life with. The realization broke the chains around those three little - but oh so significant - words that she'd kept locked deep inside of her and out of reach for so long.
"Eric, there's no need to backtrack on my behalf," she interjected. "Truth is ..." She took a deep, fortifying breath, seeking to regain control of her uncooperative vocal cords, which appeared to be momentarily paralyzed. "Truth is ... I love you too." She paused for a beat after her declaration, surprised at how easy, how liberating it was to finally put her feelings into words. And to think that she'd been twisting herself up into knots for so many months over this! The corners of her lips twitched as a wry smile crossed her face.
"What's so funny?" he asked, curious but unbelievably relieved at how happy she seemed. Honestly, he'd half-assumed that close-to-the-vest Calleigh would retract her revelation, claiming "post-sex brain" or temporary insanity.
"Well, when I told you just now that ..."
"That you love me," he supplied eagerly.
"Yes, when I told you just now that I love you ..., " she continued, jokingly rolling her eyes at his enthusiastic prompting, "... the roof didn't cave in, lightning didn't strike me down, and you didn't disappear in a cloud of smoke."
Eric believed he knew where she was going with this, but he held his tongue, wanting her to finish her thought.
"Actually, it was just ...," she gnawed lightly on her lower lip, trying to find the right words, " ... simple, uncomplicated," she concluded. "I really don't know why I was expecting such a Parade of Horribles." Her needless worrying seemed silly now, and she couldn't suppress a quiet giggle at herself. The lilting sound was music to Eric's ears.
"When something's right, things just have a way of falling into place," he answered, before brushing his lips over hers in a sweet, featherlight kiss.
They lay facing each other for several minutes of comfortable silence, lightly running their hands over each other's bodies and enjoying the view. Soon though, Calleigh felt her blood begin to heat again as she feasted her eyes on the magnificent nakedness of her sexy Cuban Adonis. Seemingly of its own volition, the hand that had been caressing his torso slipped lower, coming to rest on one of the firm globes of his delectable ass. With a naughty twinkle in her eye, she began to squeeze, relishing the way the muscles clenched beneath her fingertips and eliciting an appreciative moan from the willing victim of her sensuous onslaught.
"You know, now that you've told me," she said, provocatively raising her eyebrows. "How about you show me ... again?"
It took Eric a second to catch her meaning, and then a slow smile crept across his handsome face. Before he could fashion a response to her seductive proposal, Calleigh nudged him onto his back and straddled him, her still-soaked core imprinting his ripped abs with their secretions. Her desire-darkened eyes made her intentions crystal clear as she leaned down towards him, seeking to nip the pillowy lower lip that frequently starred in her most erotic fantasies.
"Uh-uh-uh ..." he interrupted, gently tapping his fingers on her chin to halt her advances. "Didn't we say that we weren't gonna do this anymore?" he queried playfully.
"Don't make me get my gun," she warned, trying her darndest to sound threatening, but failing miserably.
Eric chuckled, giving Calleigh that adorable, impish smirk that always made her weak in the knees. "So I take it we won't be sticking to that particular promise?"
"Not on your life, mister," she pointedly replied, her voice slightly breathy from her escalating arousal.
"Good, because, from here on out, that's the only promise to you that I'm ever gonna break."
In answer, she laughed softly and reached for him again, anxious to resume their spine-tingling encore. And this time, her beautiful smile did reach her eyes.
THE END