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It had been too long since I’d heard it.

My head tilted up and up and up, only reminding me of just how massive he was. Tall and strong.

“You got me like this. You always do,” he confessed. My lips parted and immediately shut. I blinked. Once. Twice. A third time. My brain felt like it was buffering what he’d said in slow motion.

I’d heard those words in my daydreams. But now they were a reality. Right? Or, shit! Had I fallen asleep at the check-in counter and this was all some kind of dream? Was I stuck in the Matrix? I was half-tempted to pinch myself just to make sure I wasn’t somehow asleep and dreaming this whole thing.

So, I pinched him.

“Ow! What the hell, Cal?” he groaned, tipping my head up. “I tell you you’re the one who gets me hard, and you pinch me?”

“I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t having a stroke,” I muttered. His beautiful lips twitched.

“A stroke? Really?” He chuckled softly. The sound was familiar and one I had missed.

“Are you?” I asked, searching his face for any hints. Not that I was sure what I should be looking for.

“What?”

“Are you having a stroke? Can you smell toast? Is that what is happening? Are you having a stroke, Adam? Do men get erections during a stroke?”

“No.” His jaw twitched. I felt one of his hands leave my lower back only to take my hand in his before dropping it between us. I hissed out air, and he groaned the moment my palm glided against his pant-covered length.

I swallowed hard.

I didn’t have the most experience. I was a virgin who hardly ever dated, and other than kissing and some heavy petting one time my freshman year in college during a make-out session with some random guy at a party, I hadn’t done anything. Second base was the extent of my experience. I’d watched porn and loved smutty books, but Adam was real. Though what I was feeling felt a little too good to be true, if you know what I mean.

“You feel this?” he asked, his voice husky and deep. His nostrils flared as my hand, with a mind of its own, traced his length, moving my palm up and down against his pants.

“You’re… you’re hard,” I whispered, and he nodded.

“For you. This is all for you, Callie,” he rasped. His hand gripped me tighter.

“Since when?” I found myself asking. His gaze darkened.

“A long time.”

“Since when?” has Roxie been right this entire time?

“Since high school.” Holy shit.

“Wait… that makes no sense,” I whispered.

“Cal—“

“You’ve wanted me? This whole time?” I couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“Only you.”

“But I thought… What about the girls?”

“What girls?” His head dipped forward, and he pressed a kiss to my forehead. My eyes fluttered shut as his lips lingered there. It should have felt innocent. He’d kissed my forehead and cheeks a million times. In high school I’d tried to keep track of those sweet little kisses, but I’d lost count by our junior year.

This forehead kiss felt different.

“The girls always chasing you around,” I whispered.

“The only girl I see, the only girl I’ve ever seen or wanted, is you,” he admitted. Hearing those words with that certainty in his voice made my heart soar.