Caleb.
I pull her up and kiss her lips, lean back to look into her eyes. “Don’t say it until you feel the same.”
“I do, Caleb.” Faith presses her lips against mine. “I wouldn’t say the words without meaning them.”
I had an image in my head of what Faith would look like without her clothes, and it did no justice to the reality of the body before me. Large breasts emphasize her smaller waist. I want to see her without the barrier of her bra. I hold on to her and pull her close once again. Being together, building this trust, is monumental to us both. I scoot back.
Her gaze fuses with mine. I draw the shirt off her body. Her bra and jeans remain. I lean forward to reach around her and unhook her bra. I make no move to remove it. When I lean back, I meet her gaze. “Still with me?”
“Yes.”
“I’m the luckiest guy on the planet. You could be with anyone, and yet you chose me.”
“There isn’t anyone besides you, Caleb. You’re my everything.”
I lean forward again, capture her mouth with mine, and use my body to urge her to lie back on the bed. Keeping the bulk of my weight on my arms and calves because I don’t want to crush her. I press my lips against the skin above her bra, skim my lips down her cleavage, and trace a path up with my tongue. I’m taking my time. I want to use my mouth on her breasts without Faith thinking about anything except the fact it feels good.
Through the cloth of her loosened bra, I draw her nipple into my mouth and tongue the distended tip. Faith shivers and releases a quiet moan. I use my right hand to move her bra strap off her shoulder. Her skin smells like cinnamon. Its flavor unfolds on my tongue. Capturing her bare nipple in my mouth, I use my teeth to gently scrape the tip. Her bra drops when I lower the other strap. So many things I want, but first I need to feel her skin on mine.
I take her mouth with mine, change our positions, and cradle her face in my hands. “You’re so beautiful.”
Her lips press against mine. “Caleb.”
Faith sits up and straddles me. I lift my hands to her hold her breasts and use my thumbs to trace her nipples. Her eyes close, and her back arches. This image of her poised above me burns on my brain because she’s so fucking hot, and she’s mine. I’m so hard, it’s almost painful.
“Your clothes need to come off.”
I’m crazy for her. “Do it.”
Faith reaches for my waistband to unbutton my jeans. I lift my hips off the bed to help when she pulls my jeans off. Her hands return to the waistband of my boxer briefs, but she doesn’t remove them. Her finger traces the seam down the front, then she lowers her head and uses her mouth to capture the head of my penis through the cloth.
I nearly lose my mind.
“I promised myself I’d never do this again, but what happened before doesn’t belong between us. I want to make you feel good.”
She pulls my boxers down to my knees and runs her tongue down my length. Palms my balls with one hand while she captures the head in her mouth. She uses the tip of her tongue to lick the rim and wraps her free hand around me to pump my cock into her mouth. I’m battered by the alternating sensations of her mouth on me. It’s an effort not to come.
Not simply because it feels amazing, but that she trusts me enough to go down on me. It hits me again that we’re in love with each other. I touch her shoulder. “Faith, oh shit, I need you to stop. I don’t want to come yet.”
Faith makes eye contact while my cock is in her mouth.
I nearly go off.
She releases me and pulls my underwear the rest of the way off my body.
I need to get her naked and explore her body without any barrier between us. “Take your jeans off.”
She gets off the bed and reaches for the button at her waist. Her gaze remains focused on mine while she unzips her pants, pulls them down her hips, and steps out of them. Standing at the side of my bed in her underwear, I can’t believe this sexy girl is mine. Her hands move to the band to pull down her boyfriend briefs with the telltale Y-fronts. The boyish look serves to make her curves look more feminine by contrast.
“Wait,” I ask. “Let me do that.”
I pull her toward me as Faith climbs on the bed. I move in and skim my lips over hers. Our tongues touch, and blood roars through my veins. We’re kneeling on the bed, our torsos align, and her shape fits so perfectly with mine. My hands explore the curve of her waist and the flare of her hips. I cup her ass and pull her firmly against me.
I’m not capable of getting any harder. While our mouths remain fused, I reach between us to get my hand down her underwear to cup her sex. I use my middle finger to rub her in circles. She’s slick, and it makes me hotter knowing she’s turned on.
I want her flat on her back with her legs spread, so I can bury my tongue inside her. “Lie back.”
I slide down her stomach to her sex. I pull down her underwear. I swirl my tongue, while inserting my index and middle fingers inside her. She’s tight and wet. I love the sounds she makes when she’s turned on and when she comes. I suck hard, and she cries out. I keep my mouth on her while she orgasms. My fingers move inside her, and her orgasm grips me. I lick her while her body shudders. My body responds, sending a bead of moisture to the tip of my cock.
Her arms are crossed over her eyes, and she pants, “Caleb.”
“Faith, I want to get inside you.”
She doesn’t move her arms, but replies, “Yes.”
I crawl to my nightstand to get a condom from the drawer and cover myself. She uncrosses her arms and watches as I move toward her. “Get on your stomach?” I ask.
She turns over. Her hands are pillowed under her chin waiting for my next move. I lie down next to her and use my hands to explore her back. I move to press kisses down her spine, lick the two dimples at the base. My lips trace one slope of her ass, while my hand caresses the other. Fantasy girl.
She tenses.
“What’s wrong?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing.”
“Come on, Faith. Talk to me.” I keep my hands on her ass while I wait for her answer.
“I’ve never been comfortable with my body. I’m trying to relax and just focus on how you make me feel.”
I nibble on her shoulder blade and feather my hands over her ass. “Faith, trust me. Your body is a complete turn-on for me.”
She sighs. “Seriously?”
“Spoon with me and I’ll explain.” She moves to her side. I run my hands over her ass and cup her body with mine. I throb with need. I move my right hand from cheek to hip, and over her waist to her breast to cup it in my hand. “You’re all curves. So damn sexy.”
She looks over her shoulder at me. “What?”
She doesn’t understand her appeal. I press my lips to the spot on her neck below her right ear. “Full breasts, small waist, and a round ass. Fantasy girl.”
Faith moans and shakes her head. I capture her nipple between my thumb and index finger, and her breath catches. I want her so bad. I suck her earlobe into my mouth and nibble. She arches her back, pressing her ass into my groin.
I moan. Wrap my arm around her waist and pull us both to our knees. Press on her pelvis to lift her into position and push my dick inside her.
I enter her slowly, inch by inch, until I’m buried deep inside her. I pull out halfway and thrust.
“Oh my.”
I stop. “Am I hurting you?”
“No. The opposite.”
I lean forward to press my chest against her back. I drag my mouth over her shoulder in an open-mouth kiss and reach around with my hand to find her sex. I’m trying to keep my strokes even, to stop myself from slamming into her. My lower back beads with sweat from the effort it takes not to come, and I maintain a slow pace.
“I’m so close. More,” she says breathlessly.
I can no longer control myself. I let myself rock into her while increasing the circular motion of my finger on her clit. She’s so tight, and her muscles clamp down on me with the start of her orgasm, which triggers my own.
I kiss her spine and move my hand from her sex to her abdomen. We’re both breathing hard. “Okay?”
She makes a noise deep in her throat. “Mmhmm.”
I pull out. I have to get rid of the condom. “I’ll be right back.”
I head into the bathroom. When I walk back into my bedroom Faith is trying to get under the duvet and half her body is covered. She looks like she’s posing, and it’s such an erotic image I tell her, “Don’t move.”
“What? Is there a spider?” She goes still.
I snort out a laugh. “No. I want to show you something. Trust me?”
She looks over her shoulder at me. One calf, and part of one butt cheek is exposed. Half her back is under the duvet, and half is bare—the hint of one breast shown. Her hair drapes over her shoulder.
She’s wicked sexy, and mine. Her strength and vulnerability steal my breath. I have my phone in hand and I’m about to take her picture.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I want you to see what I do. Just trust me. Okay?”
She shakes her head. “You have no idea how much I am trusting you right now.”
“Close your eyes.” When she does, I make sure that I have her framed the way I want. “Faith. I love you so much.”
Her eyes open. That’s the look I want to capture, that sultry but innocent look of surprise that drives me wild. She drops her head to the mattress and groans. “Give me your phone, I’m deleting that right now.”
“Not yet. I want you to really look at this pic. You need to see yourself as I see you.” I walk over to her and show her the picture. She takes a look at the picture and starts to glance away. I take hold of her chin and stare deep into her eyes. “Faith, please look at the picture and pay attention to the girl I’m in love with. She’s stunning.”
She takes the phone from me. “Okay.” After a brief glance says, “Not a bridge troll.”
I take the phone from her and kiss her nose. “Don’t. You’re rather clueless for a smart girl. Subject change. I want another bagel.”
Faith rolls out of bed. “No subject change allowed. I mean it,” she says as she gets dressed. “Delete that pic.”
“Okay, I’ll delete it from my phone, but I’m sending it to you first. I want you to have it. Promise me you’ll look at it the next time you feel uncomfortable about your body.”
“Fine. As long as it’s off your phone.”
Once we’re dressed we head into the kitchen to eat. She snaps the band I’m still wearing on my wrist. “Do you have any rubber bands? I want to tie my hair back.”
“Check the center drawer of my desk.”
She heads back into my bedroom, while I move toward the kitchen. The doorbell rings, and I change directions to head through the living room to answer it. I pull the door open, and Mom is on the threshold. She looks ashen. “Caleb.”
My pulse ratchets. “What’s wrong?”
Mom grabs me and holds on tight. “Your father.”
Faith walks into the living room, takes one look at Mom’s face and says, “I’m sorry, I’m interrupting. I’ll get out of your way.”
Adrenaline rushes through my veins. “Faith, wait.” I stare at Mom. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Tears run down her face, and I’m about to lose my shit. It’s going to be bad. “What did he do?”
“Mrs. O’Connor, from next door, found your dad collapsed on the porch at home. She called nine-one-one. They’ve rushed him to Stanford.” Mom takes a breath and her voice catches. “He wasn’t breathing.”
Of all the things I expected her to say, this was not on my radar. I stagger sideways two steps and hit the wall.
Faith says, “Where are your keys? I’ll take you both to the hospital.”
I’m having trouble processing. Dad is healthy as a horse. He’s never been sick that I can remember. My body reels in shock. And I remember Dad using the same words to describe his dad, my grandpa, dying of a heart attack at forty-six. I grab hold of Mom.
I turn to Faith. “Keys are on my dresser.”
Faith runs into my room and comes back out in record time with my keys clutched in her fist and her bag on her shoulder. “Let’s go.”
I keep my arm around Mom’s waist and lead her out the door.
Faith locks the door behind us. “Caleb, I don’t know where you parked.”
“Follow me to the car, Faith. We need to get there now.”
Faith’s typing the address into her the maps app on her phone as the elevator car opens for us and we get inside. “Mom, Stanford is a world-class hospital. He’ll be fine.”
I’m praying that saying it will make it so. I’m praying that I’m not about to lose my father when I haven’t said one word to him in the last three months that wasn’t spit at him in anger.
Faith drops us off at emergency to go park. Mom talks to the nurse responsible for admissions. She’s asking her about our insurance, and I just want to know how he’s doing. Beyond the fact the nurse confirmed he’s here and they are working on him, we know nothing. I know he’s receiving the best possible care. Stanford is legendary for its heart clinic, but reputation offers little comfort when your dad is beyond the doors.
I feel helpless. “Mom, what can I do for you?”
She pulls me in for a hug and holds on tight. “Caleb, there’s nothing we can do except wait and pray.” And she kisses my forehead. “Wait for Faith. I have to call your aunt Mo and let her know what’s going on.”
Faith rushes into the room. Mom moves to the corner of the room to use her cell to call her sister. Faith wraps her arms around me.
“Any news?”
I take her hand and lead her to the first set of empty chairs in the waiting room. “No.” I drum my fingers along the armrest. “They said one of the doctors working on him will come out and talk to us whenever possible.”
We sit in silence. Faith has my hand cushioned between both of hers, but I don’t feel anything. I’m numb. I keep an eye on Mom while she’s on the phone. I haven’t taken one call from Dad since August. And I’ve fought with him both times he’s shown up at my door.
He didn’t just hurt me. He hurt Mom, too.
We both turned away from him. Well, this is just a wake-up call. We’ll have a mess to sort out when he gets released.
A doctor in scrubs steps through the doors that lead into the trauma area. He walks over to the admitting nurse who points in our direction. I stand. Faith remains seated.
I walk to Mom who is intercepted by the doctor. “Mrs. St. John?”
She falters and stops. “Yes. Do you have an update on Lucas?”
I reach her and put my arm around her shoulders. The doctor nods at me. “Are you family?”
“Yes. He’s my dad.”
He motions to the double doors he just stepped out from. “I need you both to follow me.”
I can’t read his body language. I look over my shoulder at Faith. I mouth be right back. I hope he’s taking us to see Dad now. There’s an urgency to see him and assure myself he’s okay. All the other stuff is in the past. It can stay there. What’s important now, is making sure Dad is on the right path to getting well. Everything else is just white noise. We follow the doctor, who doesn’t look much older than me, into a small room that has a love seat and a coffee table. It’s unoccupied.
The doctor closes the door. “Mr. St. John suffered anoxia, which means that while we were able to revive his heart, his brain was depleted of oxygen for too long. We suspect he’s brain dead.”
The breath I was holding leaves my body. “Wait, what? That can’t be. He’s not even fifty, and he’s healthy. You’re mistaken.”
Mom sinks down on the couch and starts to rock. Tears track silently down her face.
“I’m sorry, but Mr. St. John is not able to breathe on his own. We have him on a ventilator. We’re running tests to determine whether our suspicions are correct.” He sits on the coffee table in front of mom. “His driver’s license declares he’s an organ donor.”
She nods. “Yes, we both are.” Her voice catches. “When will you know? How much time do we have to prepare?”
“We’ve already had one physician determine he’s brain dead. His cerebrum and brain stem were tested. A second physician must also declare Mr. St. John brain dead in order to establish time of death. The ventilator will keep his organs oxygenated for transplant. I’m very sorry for your loss. Do you have questions for me?”
I’m filled with dread. This is complete bullshit. This can’t be happening.
Mom asks, “Can we have time with him before you harvest his organs?”
The doctor nods. “Of course. If you’ll wait here, someone will come for you in a few minutes.”
The next hour is a blur for me. I hold Mom’s hand, but mostly we’re quiet. I’m lost in my own thoughts. My own regrets. They come to take us to him. His color looks off. He’s warm when I touch him, and yet he’s officially dead. There’s a tube in his mouth, and it’s been taped shut. I almost lose it completely when Mom drapes herself over Dad and sobs into his chest.
She clutches the blanket that covers his chest in her fists. “You weren’t supposed to die on me when I’m still pissed at you, Lucas. You know I hate it when you get the last word.”
My mom holds him with her eyes closed. When her eyes open, she kisses his forehead and says, “You’re the only man I’ve ever loved.”
Then she walks around the bed and grabs me. “I’m so sorry, baby. He’s too young to die, and you’re too young to deal with it.” She steps back and looks into my eyes. Hers are bloodshot.
“I’ll be in the waiting room. I’ve got to call my sister again. Take as much time as you need with your dad.”
I can’t feel my hands or catch my breath. It’s hard to accept he’s gone, and I have to say good-bye. I touch his hand, but the words back up in my throat. Telling him I forgive him now is meaningless. He died. Game over.