The mood was somber after he'd told me about his childhood. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything at all. Instead, I left my chair and crawled up on his lap, resting my cheek against his chest.
Hooking my arms around him, I gave him a hug. I didn't know which of us needed it the most; my heart broke at his story, and I could tell he didn't like to revisit that part of his life. He'd been tense and angry when he talked about his parents, and all I wanted to do was comfort him.
Callan let out a breath as he relaxed under my touch and hugged me back. His head fell into the crook of my neck.
The sound of something being placed on the table made me withdraw from his embrace just enough to see that the chef had put down a plate of chocolate cake. It was a huge piece, more than enough for the both of us.
"Thank you," I said to the retreating chef, and he stopped only for a second to give me a nod before moving away from us, giving us space.
I didn't make a move to get off Callan, and he didn't let me go either. We sat like this in silence for several minutes before the scent of chocolate became irresistible.
He shifted my position on his lap with little effort, so my back was to his front. One of his hands rested on my thigh, while the other reached for one of the teaspoons and filled it with cake.
"Open up, Sweetheart," Callan ordered as he held the spoon to my mouth. I didn't object and hummed as the creamy chocolate goodness hit my tastebuds. He continued feeding himself and me, taking turns on who would get the spoon of cake.
There was an intimacy in letting him feed me, and I think both of us took pleasure in it. Callan was back to his relaxed self as if the conversation about his parents never happened.
When the plate was empty, we walked back inside to the warm living room. As I sat down on the couch, Callan went to the speakers and hooked it up to his phone. The sound of Norah Jones's Come away with me filled the room.
I was surprised when Callan walked up to me, offering me one of his hands.
"What are you doing?" I questioned, looking at him with wide eyes.
"Emma, will you give me the pleasure of dancing with you?" He smiled warmly down at me. It was rare when either one of them used my name, but when they did, it made my heart thump loudly in my chest.
Hesitantly, I accepted his hand, and he helped me up from the couch. "I've never done this before," I admitted with a blush. When would I ever have had the chance to dance with someone when I'd never been on a date? Sure, I went to prom in high school with some friends, but I stayed far away from the dance floor.
"You'll be fine. Just relax and let me lead," he whispered against my ear. His lips tickled my skin, and I shivered in his arms.
Callan guided my hands around his neck while he placed his around my waist, holding me tightly against him.
"See, this isn't so hard," he said as we started moving gently to the slow music. He was right; as long as I relaxed and let him lead, it wasn't a problem—I didn't even step on his feet, which I was oddly proud of.
"You're right," I whispered. "Nothing is ever hard when I'm with you."
Resting my head on his chest, we danced, first through this song and then two others. Feelings of joy and affection filled me as we moved in sync; my body instinctually followed his.
When the third song was over, he grabbed my chin and angled my lips to his own, kissing me sweetly. I melted against him, and a soft sigh escaped me as we withdrew from each other.
YOU ARE READING
Yes, Sirs (Book 1 of Desire's Den)
Romance"You were ours from the second we saw you," he stated as if I didn't have a choice in it, and the truth was, I didn't need to because he was right. I was theirs, but what they didn't know was that they were mine too. ...
