AN: Another Monday, another chapter. Weekly updates seem to be the best I can do with my job and life. I hope that's fine with you.
George has picked me up at the airport as Callie promised he would and he has just dropped me off in front of a modern loft with what looks like two floors, white exterior walls and an extensively glazed facade. Albeit everything I assumed throughout this week, Friday came sooner than I expected. Between classes and papers that needed to be done, and the daily phone calls with Callie, I am in no position – really – to complain about time dragging on, because it mostly didn't. Sure, some lectures always felt like they were going on for days, whereas the time I got to talk to Callie almost always felt like it was merely five minutes, but now I am here.
George gives me a card with a note from Callie, saying that she'll be home as soon as possible and a code under the note. Standard keys aren't a thing anymore, apparently, I giggle to myself, because the front door in Miami was also equipped with a key-card system. And as if the sight from outside the building isn't already a little bit intimidating, my mouth literally drops when I step inside. I know she is wealthy, her whole family has more money than they can possibly ever spend, but this looks like a picture a realtor would present to his clients. Leaving my luggage at the door, I make my way further inside the loft, my eyes growing bigger with every passing second. The first thing I notice is the dark hard-wooden floor, which looks super fancy and in purely elegant contrast with the cream white furniture. The panorama windows flood the whole room with daylight that reflects itself in mirrors and the decoration. Straight ahead of me is a table, big enough for at least six people and to its right side is an open kitchen with marble floor, beautiful white cupboards and a kitchen island in the middle. She told me that she loves to cook and picturing her in here, swirling around, preparing her dishes, is a fantastic image my mind creates.
As predicted, there are classy wooden stairs leading to the second floor, a dark railing opposite the wall, and the curious child inside me wants to go upstairs and look around some more, but the reasoning adult inside of me respects Callie too much for that. Yes, she trusts me enough to be here without her, without anyone, all by myself, but that doesn't give me a free pass to snoop around. She can give me a tour when she gets here, so for now, I make my way into the living room and sit down on the couch. The fabric is soft and the cushion itself is pretty comfortable. I can easily picture her sitting here, a glass of wine – maybe sometimes even something stronger – in her hand, watching the sunset as she recalls the events of the day. Maybe she sat here thinking about me, us, or when we talked on the phone. Oh how I would like to sit here with her.
The front door opens and Callie walks in, a wide smile appears on her face the moment our eyes meet and within a split second, I am standing and on my way to her. I react the same way. Whenever I see her, I smile instantly. On the flight to LA, I was nervous, not knowing how to greet her, wondering if a hug would be good enough or if a kiss would be too much. But now that she is standing in front of me, I can't help but throw my arms around her neck and connect our lips. Hers taste so sweet, maybe from a chap-stick. I hear the thud when she lets go of the bag she had slung over her shoulder and it lands on the floor. But I don't care, because now her arms are around my waist, holding me close to her, letting my know that my way of welcoming her was the right choice.
"Hi", she rasps out when we part, her eyes roaming me and her right hand comes up to brush stray strands of blonde hair out of my face. Her eyes look tired but the deep brown still has the power to evoke a truckload full of emotions inside me. With her left hand still securely placed on my hip and the other one cupping my cheek, her thumb stroking over the prominent bone, she leans down again and captures my lips one more time before she says, "I am so happy you're here. I missed you."
The confession itself is beyond meaningful. She missed me, that sentence alone said so much more than a thousand words could have said. "I missed you too", I reply and push my body into hers, hugging her. Her perfume smells so good, the flowery scent of her shampoo is divine and honestly, I am happy standing here like this, with my arms around her and hers around me. This is happiness. "How was your meeting?", I ask, wanting to know more about her new project, even though she isn't allowed to tell me any details.
"It was okay." Her words are barely louder than a whisper, her breath tickling my ear and neck. "Exhausting, but good. I just have to decide which movie, out of the five scripts she gave me, I want to do. My manager says it's simply a question of money, that I should choose either the one with the biggest budget or the one that is most likely to make the most money. But that is not how I see it", she continues and I sense that it is stressing her a little bit. "I have a couple of weeks left to make my decision."
"Which one do you want to do?", I ask her softly and pull back. Looking at her, I see her forehead furrowed in confusion. In my opinion, it looks cute on her, but Callie would probably not agree. "That's the one you should choose. Don't make it all about the money. Maybe your manager thinks that it's the best choice because she will get more out of it as well, but if you don't like the script or the character, then you shouldn't do it." She blinks a couple of times, but still doesn't say anything, so I add, "That's how I would make a decision..." Maybe it doesn't work this way in the media world?
Slowly but surely, her face lights up and the smile returns, even brighter than before. "You're amazing, do you know that?" Blushing at her words, I want to turn away, but she's faster and crashes her lips into mine, kissing me hungrily, feverishly and spins us around. She backs me towards the front door and as my back hits the surface, it knocks the air right out of my lungs for a second as the kiss grows more passionate, more heatedly than any kiss we've shared before. Our bodies come flush together, her breasts press against mine and I feel like my head is spinning.
Callie moans into the kiss as I pull the tie out of her hair and tunnel my fingers into her tresses, and it's the hottest thing I have ever heard. I can't suppress the groan that leaves my own lips when her right hand makes its way under the material of my shirt, softly grazing the skin she finds there with her fingertips. I have had sex before, yes, I've had women moan because of me before, but that was nothing compared to the sexy sounds coming from the Latina's lips. Fuck, this is hot. Too hot. If we keep going like this, the plan to go slow will fly out of the window tonight. When her knee slightly pushes between my legs, I rip my mouth away from hers with the last little self-control I have left and take a couple of deep breaths before our eyes lock again. "I'm sorry, but I-"
"No", she interrupts me, panting just as hard as I am. "You're right. We shouldn't do this right now and certainly not like this." Her tongue runs along her lower lip – swollen from the make-out session – and the view itself is enough to throw caution to the wind again, but with my hands pressed against the front door behind me, I try to remain cool as best as I can. We agreed to take it slow. "When it happens, it won't be against a door. You deserve more. We deserve more." Full lips peck my left cheek before Callie pulls away from me and leaves towards the kitchen. "What do you say about a nice, home-cooked dinner?", she asks, a head full of dark hair peeking around the corner of the kitchen.
"Sounds inviting", I answer and follow her. "What did you have in mind?" She looks even more stunning than I have imagined earlier. Yup, I could easily watch her cook for us for the rest of my life. "Do you want me to help?", I offer. Not that I am a master in the kitchen – more like the master of disaster in the kitchen – but I am a pro at chopping vegetables. I am sure that, if I would concentrate enough and would really take the time, I could cook. But I guess I was born with a very complicated case of high impatience when it comes to cooking and so it ends with pans on fire.
"Don't worry", Callie says and smiles at me. "Just sit there and look beautiful, after all, I promised you a calm dinner and that means it's my invitation, so I am cooking. Is roasted chicken with some salad and rice on the side okay?"
Is that okay? I am sure everything she cooks is more than 'okay'. "That sounds delicious", I reply and find a spot at the table to sit down, watching her intently as she moves around in the kitchen like she belongs there. She probably does. From what she has told me, she has always enjoyed cooking and has spent hours in the kitchen with her mother and grandmother, both of them teaching her everything she knows now. I find it miraculous. My mother has tried to teach me how to cook too, but she gave up at some point. But watching Callie, it's like watching a chef de cuisine. Every move is so precise, that she could easily start her own restaurant. I'm sure it tastes just as awesome. Sometimes she looks up and gives me a wink or shows me her megawatt-smile. It's beyond spellbinding when her smile reaches her eyes, when they shine with pure joy. Other times she seems so focused on cooking that she bites her bottom lip in concentration and I cannot decide, which look I prefer. No need to pick one, I think and grin in delight at my own thought.
One last glance in the mirror to check if every important part of my body is covered with enough fabric, I breathe in deeply and head out of the room. Last night, Callie showed me one of the guest rooms and told me to feel at home as much as I wanted to – which wasn't necessarily hard to do, because with everything of her surrounding me, I couldn't feel more at home if I tried. Her scent is everywhere, the interior design is just so Callie that wherever I look, it puts a smile on my face. Admittedly, I felt kind of dumped and somewhat disappointed when she showed me the guest room, but I knew and still know that it was for the better. We probably wouldn't have slept at all, especially after the heated greeting and after kissing for hours after dinner. If we would have slept in the same bed, I can almost guarantee that something would have happened, something neither of us was ready for. But now, now I am wearing my new cobalt-blue bikini, part one of the plan to knock her socks off. It gives my chest a very nice cleavage, yet it leaves just enough to her imagination and it makes my butt look hot – to say it with Teddy's words.
Walking down the stairs, Callie is nowhere to be found. We did have a long breakfast earlier, with coffee and fruits and she made French toast. One of the best French toast I have ever tasted, but that is not something I will tell my mom. And we have laughed and kissed and just had a lazy morning so far before we agreed on getting changed to relax by the pool. Still, I can't find her anywhere until I take a quick glance out of the sliding glass door, seeing her emerging from water. My mouth immediately goes dry. She wears a red bikini, correction, a tight red bikini that looks like it was painted onto her skin. Swallowing hard, I make my way out and into the huge backyard, my eyes entirely fixated on her body as the remaining drops trickle down those heavenly curves.
"What took you so long?", she asks me, but with my mind elsewhere and the incapability to answer, I nod. Stupid move, I know, but I can't help it. I completely zoned out on her, only blank thoughts left in my brain. That she walks up to me goes utterly unnoticed until she stands already right in front of me, placing her hands on my shoulders. "Arizona? Are you okay?"
"What?", I ask, shaking my head as if I just woke up. It sure feels like it. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" I try my hardest not to stare at her chest, moving with every breath she takes. Luscious, bronze-colored skin glistens in the sunlight and from the water and I lick my lips in utter amazement. Never did I know that the combination of wet skin shining in the sunlight can have this effect on me.
"I asked if you are okay", she chuckles. "And before that, I asked why you took so long to get changed. I was waiting for you and since it took longer, I dove in for a few minutes, swimming all alone." Faking a pout, she pulls her wet hair up in a ponytail, making me want to kiss her all over her neck, find her soft spots and kiss her senseless after. Her eyes rake over my body and there is a flash of lust behind those chocolate irises.
My heart pounds faster and faster in my chest. Breathe, Robbins, don't jump her just yet. God, I want her so bad. But I control myself, and frankly, it's the hardest thing I have ever done. Never ever before did I have so much trouble to control myself around someone, not even in my teenage years – and everybody always says teenagers don't have any self-control. Well I did. Now, though? Now I don't. "I didn't know which color to wear", I say, trying to tease her just like she is teasing me, but it also is the truth. I've packed three bikinis, blue, black and green, just to be safe.
"Oh yeah? I see..." Hooking her fingers in the bottoms of my bikini, she pulls me closer and kisses me. Compared to last night, this kiss is super innocent, which is probably for the better. My libido is already on fire and I cannot promise to keep my hands to myself if she kisses me again like she did last night. Not with so very little clothes between us. "Come, swim with me." She pulls me to the pool and dives in and comes up for air a few seconds later.
Doing the same, I resurface right in front of her, looking her deep in the eyes. They are glowing and if I am not mistaken, it is more than just lust. My eyes flicker down to her lips, further down to the protruding collarbones and then back up to intense brown orbs before my lips attack hers. Our legs collide every once in a while as we try to prevent us from drowning, all the while, our hands roam over every inch of skin – naked or covered – they can find. Soft moans fill the air until we separate. I have no idea how much time has passed. It could have been five minutes or thirty. It could have been an hour and I would not mind at all.
As we exit the pool, I dry off and ask her to put sunscreen on my back. I already put some on the rest of my body – this time I didn't forget the back of my hands – before I got changed, but I need help with my back. "Sure, turn onto your stomach", she says, a mischievous grin on her face. Whenever I find that grin on Teddy's face, I know she's up to something either mean or really funny. With Callie, I have no idea, so I wait. And then I feel her pull on the strings of my bikini top and shortly after, it falls to the sides. She pushed my hair aside and covers my neck and shoulders with kisses. It makes me tense up. I don't know how much more of this luxurious torture I can endure before I cave and beg her to take me right then and there. The moment her hands touch my skin though, I relax. When they wander a little lower and she graces the side of my breast, goosebumps appear all over my skin and I can literally feel her holding back the smirk. She starts to know some of the things she does to me. But just wait, Callie, we'll see how you react when you see my dress tonight.
So, what do you think? How long can they truly take it slow? With all the sexual tension building around them, who's going to give in first?