“Tell me no, Peyton. Goddammit, tell me no,” he begged desperately.
Her eyes met his before she whispered, “Yes,” and brought his lips to hers.
Her head screamed at how irresponsible she was being, but she couldn’t help herself. There was an undeniable draw to him. It had been there for as long as she could remember. Stupidity and heart were winning. Whatever she could have now, she’d rather take. No matter if a broken heart was what lay ahead of her.
Callum’s tongue found hers and they discovered a rhythm of strokes begging of desperation and control. A moan escaped her, but she didn’t care. The last time she was ever this close to anyone was when she was seventeen. In this exact same spot.
Peyton lay back on the blanket, bringing him down with her, and he settled between her thighs. They both sighed at the contact of their bodies. Every thought she managed was placed in a dark room in her mind and locked. She needed this. She needed the pain to go away. And Callum’s mouth on hers was relief.
“Oh, God,” she softly moaned the moment he moved against her. Then she arched her back, moving her lips away from his as she experienced the small burst of pleasure.
Callum’s mouth went to her neck and slowly trailed up and down, ghosting his lips along her skin. The image of him crying wouldn’t leave her and she hoped this intimate act between them would drowned it out. After Peyton found the hem of his shirt, he propped himself up and looked into her eyes. She noticed a glint to those confusing grey pools. The control was either gone or broken. One or the other. He was reluctant and she was offering. And she knew that he needed direction.
“Tell me you don’t want this, Peyton. Tell me no,” he said between heavy pants.
Peyton, tell him no. You have some pride.
When she rested her body weight on her elbows, Callum moved back onto the blanket. She swallowed hard as she removed her thick coat, the desire and interest consuming Callum’s eyes.
Make him realise his mistake of walking away.
Peyton stood up, her eyes still on his. And as her fingers reached the hem of her shirt, she said, “Four years ago, you ruined me in this spot. You broke my heart. You made love to me here. Callum…”
His eyes saddened at her reminder of their first and last time together. “Yes, Peyton.”
She ignored the way his name sounded to her heart and bent forward, placing her hands on his cheeks. Then she looked him hard in the eye and whispered, “Fuck me.”
He flinched and his nose flared. He blinked once and looked her over. This wasn’t about love. It was about releasing the tension and feeling pleasure for the first time in a long time. He couldn’t give her love.
Callum held onto her hips and brought her down to his lap. The moment she straddled him, his eyelids tightly scrunched together and he swore under his breath.
“Fuck me, Callum,” she pleaded once more.
His eyes opened quickly just in time to see her pull the shirt off her body and throw it on the ground next to the blanket.
His fingers dug into her skin as he tried to compose himself, but his heavy panting was deceitful. He wanted this as much as she wanted it. Peyton hoped that this one moment of him fucking her would remove the innocent memory of their first time.
She reached behind and found the clasp of her red lacy bra. The sharp inhale from Callum was enough for her to unclip and remove it. His eyes never travelled south as she placed her bra with her shirt. The cool wind caused her to shiver, and his fingers dug into her more. When her hands moved to the button of her jeans, Callum’s quickly covered hers.
“I’m not fucking you, Peyton,” he said in a hoarse voice before he had her on her back. Then he quickly unzipped his hoodie and disposed of it and his shirt.
She tensed under him. Those weren’t the words that she’d expected.
“Last time to tell me no,” he said as he placed his hands on her jeans.
“You’re not going to get it,” she replied as she lifted her hips off the blanket.
His jaw clenched as he blinked at her.
Do it. Just fuck me, Callum. Taint our innocent times with this moment.
With a sharp inhale and a second to himself, he pulled down her jeans and underwear. The moment he had her naked, he stood up, unbuttoned his pants, and stepped out of them as well as his underwear. The light from the fire allowed her to take in the naked image of him. She admired the cherry blossoms wrapped around his arm and was just able to see the letters of her name on his wrist. Her heart ached. So instead, she kept focused on his face rather than his tattoos.
He reached down and pulled out his wallet, flipping it open and removing a condom. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest at the sight of the small package he held.
No. This has to be raw in order to taint our memories.
Peyton held out her hands. After a moment of his eyes floating over her naked body, Callum placed the condom in her palm and she threw it into the fire. He made a strangled sound, and she shook her head at him.
“I want you bare inside me,” she instructed.
Callum looked at the fire, watching the protection burn. “Peyton—”
She grabbed his hands in hers and pulled him back on her body. “I’m on the shot.”
Relief filled his eyes as he settled between her legs, and she felt him at her entrance. Then his hands were on the blanket as he held himself up. His eyelids were shut tightly, and Peyton refused to touch him. This wasn’t about feelings or a connection. It was about ruining her soul and memories.
When Callum opened his eyes, she winced the moment she saw them glaze over. It wasn’t what he wanted between them—she saw it. His watery eyes brought violent throbs to her heart, the pain spreading through her.
No.
She wanted this to be love. Seeing the vulnerability in his eyes was a glimpse of the past. Her fingers wrapped around his wrists as her thumb smoothed over her tattooed name.
“Callum,” she said.
The memory of him crying this morning flashed before. But it wasn’t a memory. It was reality. Callum, naked and beautiful, had tears in his eyes.
I want the truth.
If I can’t, I want as close to the truth as possible.
Peyton took a deep breath. “What’s the most honest and truthful thing you have ever said in your life?”
He tensed, confusion sweeping over his face. “The most honest and truthful thing?”
“Yes,” she said in a whisper.
He didn’t answer straight away. Instead, his lips pressed on hers. Kissing her slowly and passionately. Not as rough as before. More like he was savouring and treasuring her mouth.
Then he drew back and looked her in the eye. This time, she saw fear.
He propped himself on an elbow and used his hand to push back her hair before placing it back on the blanket. The different emotions that filled his eyes had her heart slowing down painfully. Waiting. His lips parted and he blinked once. Then his hips slowly thrust forward as he entered her. Stretching her.
Ignoring the pain, she concentrated on the feel of him inside her. His heavy pants mirrored hers. He stopped mid-thrust as he held himself over her. The muscles in his neck strained as he swallowed hard, but he didn’t push further, only stilling.
His eyes didn’t leave hers as he whispered, “I love you, Peyton,” and thrust hard and deep.
Her heart didn’t regain its beats. Instead, it died inside her chest.
Dropping his head into the curve of her neck, he pulled out. His heavy pants hit her skin as tears filled her eyes. Not blinking, the stars above morphed into blurry shades of black and spots of white.
“I love you, Peyton,” Callum he said breathlessly then thrust inside her, completely filling her. He stayed inside her before he said, “That’s the most honest and truthful thing I have ever said.”