“You think I’m trying to trap you?”
“I’m already trapped. And that’s the problem. I like it. I want you to ensnare me and take everything I have to give. I want you to take everything I am,” he explained.
“You are giving me whiplash.” She deadpanned and he laughed. The sound was quickly cut off with her next words.
“Are you refusing to see me because I’m friends with Christian?”
“Don’t say his name.”
“Tell me why.”
“I’m supposed to be at a birthday party right now.”
She furrowed her brows at his words. “What?”
“It's my father’s sixtieth birthday. He rented a boat. Whole family, well, most of the family, and a shitload of people my father barely tolerates are cruising around on the lake getting drunk.”
Sam wasn't sure exactly why he brought that up.
“Why aren’t you there?”
“Because my father and I don’t particularly get along.”
“And what does this have to do with Christi–” She immediately closed her mouth when he eyed her at the name. “What does this have to do with you not wanting me to hang out with a friend?” Sam amended.
“It doesn’t,” he answered, growing visibly despondent.
“Callum.” She buried her face in her hands as she heard him take a step closer to bring his body back next to hers once more.
She wanted to push him away, even if only to feel his sculpted muscles under her hands once more. But before she could finish the thought, he reached out and dragged her hands from her face.
“I don’t even know how to talk to you,” she confessed as traitorous tears started to cloud her vision. “You don’t make any sense. One minute you’re yelling at me, then you’re kissing me senseless, the next we’re fighting, the next I find your drawing of me, and then you’re undressing me in your room and then the next minute you are yelling at me again and critiquing my silverware rolling skills.” He laughed at her words, but she continued, “I don’t know how to react to this. I don’t know what you want me to–”
His lips crashed against hers. Then his hands cupped her face and it was all she could do to stay upright in his arms.
He pulled back and she reached out to pull him toward her again without thinking, but paused as he said, “I don’t know either. I need to figure that out. But what I do know is that I don’t want to stop doing this.” He looked back down at her lips once more.
“Me neither.” Her breath tickled his lips as she spoke.
And then he was on her once more.
A wave of heat rippled down her body as his tongue swept across her lips, begging for entry. His hands made their way to her hips. He squeezed as he pushed his body further into hers. The moan that escaped her lips was far too loud.
Callum jumped back at the noise.
Somehow, they managed to both be rolling sets of silverware by the time a line cook peeked through the peephole window in the door.
Neither could hold in the fit of laughter that burst free when they were once again alone.
They didn’t say another word. Instead they each spent the rest of her shift stealing glances at the other and then quickly turning away when caught. She didn't stop him as his hands suspiciously grabbed onto her hips when he shifted to get something from beside her, or when his lips brushed against her cheek when he reached around her. By the time they finished each task Mr. Brimley had lined out for them, it was well past closing and she was about as tightly wound as a brand new spring.
“Where did you park?” Callum questioned as they walked out the front door. It was the first utterance either of them had made over the last two hours.
“I don’t have a car. I took the bus.”
“It’s 11 p.m.” His voice was incredulous and full of shock.
“Well, aren’t you just a little Sherlock Holmes?” she replied, her voice full of sarcasm.