Page 44 of Shadows Relived
Years between them evaporated.
“I loved you back then,” Callen said. “I just didn’t know what to do with it.”
“I still don’t,” she whispered.
And then she leaned forward and kissed him.
It started soft: tentative and trembling. Her lips brushed his like she was afraid he’d disappear. He responded with the last of his strength, fingers rising to her face, anchoring her there. Her hands pressed flat against his chest, careful of the bandage, her breath catching when his tongue swept across hers.
They broke apart just long enough to breathe.
Then again, this time deeper, hungrier, her body half on top of his now, straddling his good side. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her close.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she breathed against his mouth.
“You won’t.”
She kissed him again. He winced once, sharply, and she paused.
“Callen—”
“I’ve survived worse.”
“Yeah, but I’m not trying to kill you.”
He reached up, tracing the slope of her jaw, fingersslipping into her hair. “You’re the only thing that’s made me feel alive in years.”
And that was the end of her restraint.
Clothes were pushed aside rather than removed completely, her tank top shoved up, his jeans unzipped just enough, urgency winning over elegance. But it wasn’t just desperation that fueled them. There was reverence in the way she cradled his face, in how he groaned softly into the curve of her neck, in how she gripped his hardness and guided it inside her wetness, how she rocked against him, steady and sure, like she’d always known his rhythm.
They didn’t speak as they moved.
Didn’t have to.
It was all there, in the gasps and the sighs, in the way her fingers threaded with his as she came apart, in the way he whispered her name like the universe had etched it into his soul since they were kids. She cried out his name as his heat filled her, no longer worried about being quiet, her body shuddering against his.
And afterward, when they lay tangled in the motel bed, the sheets damp with sweat and his bandage slightly askew, Callen didn’t pull away. He wrapped his arm around her waist, her back to his chest, and closed his eyes.
For the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself rest. Truly rest.
A few minutes later, he woke to the faint hum of a car engine passing by outside and the weight of Meaghan’s head tucked under his chin. Her breathing was slow. Peaceful. By his estimation, they probably had about twenty minutes before Elvis and Gageshowed up.
He didn’t want to wake her. But she stirred anyway, shifting to look at him with sleep-drunk eyes.
“Hi,” she murmured.
“Hey.”
She reached up and traced the edge of the gauze on his side, making him wince. “Still hurts?”
“Like hell.”
“You want something for it?”
He shook his head. “I’ve already got what I want.”
She smiled, small and shy. “You always this cheesy after sex?”
