The Opposite of Nothing by Shari Slade Page B

you think you’ll ever forgive him?”
    Would he? Probably better to ask could he? He wanted his brother back, but he didn’t know how to stop being angry. “I don’t know.”
    “You hit your head pretty hard. I’ll go get ice.”
    “Wait.” He grabbed her arm and pulled back, but she wasn’t moving yet. She stumbled, landing across his lap with a gasp. The warm weight of her was an unexpected balm, but her body was tense, her eyes were wide and searching.
    “I don’t need ice. I need you.” And before he could stop himself, he gathered her in his arms and kissed her. Hard. Pain bloomed and receded as she softened against him. She tasted like home. Why did we waste so much time not kissing? Not touching? Slipping his fingers under the soft fabric of her t-shirt, he circled his thumb over the smooth plane of her belly. She squirmed in his lap, clutching a handful of his shirt.
    “You’re hurt, and you’re pissed. You don’t want me like this.”
    “I want you exactly like this.” He bent to kiss her again, but hesitated, captivated by her sigh. It wasn’t her usual eye-rolling, you’re-being-an-idiot sigh. It was this tiny, involuntary exhalation. A gasping breath. Sharp and hot and so fucking sexy he wanted to dispense with preliminaries and pin her to the bed. He’d heard that sigh before on other lips, but he’d never heard it from Callie. He wanted to hear it again, he wanted to swallow it. He traced a finger over her hipbone and slipped his tongue along the curve of her bottom lip. “Tell me, how do I want you?”
    “You’re concussed.” She released her grip, smoothing the crease she’d made with a tentative caress, but didn’t pull away. He rested his forehead against hers and took a ragged breath, inhaling the sugar-apple scent of her shampoo. Shifting, trying and failing to hide his erection, only made things worse. He didn’t want to push her, but his body had other ideas. Her face flushed.
    “Then keep me awake.”
    She squirmed again. On purpose? He froze, terrified that if he moved, she’d bolt. If this was going to happen, she’d need to make the move. And if she was half as turned on as he was, he wouldn’t have to wait long. Her brows knit together in a question, and all the doubt and agony he felt was there on her face. But worse, because he knew her too well, knew what she thought of him. She wanted this kiss, but she didn’t want to want it. She didn’t want to want him.
    “This will change everything.” She breathed the words against his skin.
    “Everything has already changed.” She’d seen him empty handed. Fighting in the street like gutter trash. He’d told her about his hungry nights alone, and she hadn’t looked at him like he was garbage. Callie quieted a place inside him he hadn’t even known was noisy, muffled the anger he carried around with him every day. He could do this with her—be real. Finally, she let her hand land on his cheek, warm and dry, drawing him closer. She tangled her fingers in his hair and tugged, sending electric jolts over his scalp. He was lost.
    With that first kiss, they’d breached a divide. But this kiss, this kiss was a cool glass of water in the desert. No, a sudden deluge. He drowned in the warm slide of her tongue, the rhythmic rocking of her ass against his cock. Her nipple hardened against his palm and he nearly came right then. Like he’d never touched a breast before. Well, he’d never touched hers.
    “Callie.” Her name was a rasp in his throat. A guttural moan. How many times had he said it like it meant nothing? Now it was a plea. “Is this okay?”
    “Yes.”
    He rolled her onto her back, poised over her with his leg wedged between her thighs and one hand gripping the waistband of her jeans. One tug and he’d have them open. Another tug and he could have them down over her ass. They’d crossed so many lines today, what difference did this one make? Why hesitate? He skimmed his thumb over her belly and savored