Limelight (Vino and Veritas) Read online

  I gasp and throw my hands in the air like I’ve been caught stealing. Not that I’ve ever tried, of course. Too much of a goody two-shoes.

  Oh my God, I’m a nerd. I hastily run my hands through my hair and try to breathe. “Yeah?” I lean around the edge of the cubicle, ready to roll toward my desk again in a hurry.

  Gary stops on the other side of the office, car keys in hand. “Everyone else is gone. You nearly finished?” he calls out.

  “Yeah. I’ll lock up in a minute,” I promise automatically.

  He smiles and gives me a thumbs-up. “Don’t stay too long.” Gary’s the good kind of boss who doesn’t let us do unpaid overtime.

  “I’m going right now.” As soon as I can walk home without poking an eye out. Maybe I should have said “coming in a minute.”

  “Right on. Catch you tomorrow.”

  I hold my breath, waiting for the office door to rattle, swing closed, and rattle again with the sound of Gary locking it.

  Then I reach out for the blinds, twisting them closed. My heart thuds in my ribcage.

  Heat pulsates through my cock as I roll back toward my desk again. I can barely breathe as I shut down my computer.

  As the screen goes black, I draw a breath.

  Just do it.

  Before I can second-guess myself, I plunge my hand into my pants and underwear, cupping my aching cock. Pleasure washes through me, the oversensitive nerve endings finally satisfied—but not for long.

  “Fuck,” I hiss, every sense on high alert. I know for a fact there’s nobody left here, but still…

  This is beyond daring for me. This is the boldest thing I’ve done in my entire life, and there’s no stopping it now.

  My thighs quiver as I hurriedly unzip my pants and thread my erection through the fly. I gently cup my balls with my fingers, freeing them too.

  The very tip of my cock just brushes the underside of my desk, which is cool and firm.

  Oh, God, I’m turned on.

  I can’t help staring down the length of my body. My shaft is illuminated by the harsh overhead light over my shoulder, standing out in the dark under the desk.

  Oh, the things I want Tag to do to me.

  I brace my feet on the floor as I curl my fingers around my shaft, tugging from base to tip. It’s awkward, making sure I don’t smack my wrist on the edge of the desk.

  But holy fuck, am I turned on already. My body is tight, every muscle screaming for more right now.

  So I indulge, rolling backward with a quiet gasp as I set into a hard, fast rhythm. I don’t leave myself a single moment to fantasize and draw it out.

  This is sheer need flooding my body. I’m jerking off like I want it all to be over in seconds. No time for shame or second thoughts. Only for indulgence in the fantasy playing out in my mind.

  Tag, bracing himself over me, one hand in my curls, the other around his huge, straight, veined cock…

  Guiding it between my lips. I choke as the head of his cock slides all the way over my tongue to the back of my throat, whimpering in delight. I can just about hear Tag grunt with ecstasy as I desperately suck my cheeks around him.

  Every time he thrusts his hips, fucking my mouth, wet and frantic noises of pleasure escape from my throat and vibrate through his stiff cock.

  The chair squeaks under me as I stop trying to muffle the harshness of my breathing. I pant for breath, spreading my slick precum over my shaft.

  My muscles are so taut that I feel like my whole body might snap.

  “Fuck,” I gasp, my back arching and head rolling against the backrest of my chair. “Fuck, fuck…”

  It’s coming, and there’s no stopping it. I quickly sweep my arm over my desk, pushing away keyboard and papers alike. Then I stare down at myself, my lips parting as my whole body seizes and my balls draw tight…

  Heat floods through my shaft and slams into my body. The strength of my voiceless cry makes me bare my teeth as breath rushes from my lungs.

  My whole body contracts in such hard pulses that my feet leave the floor and my knees hit the desk for a second. There’s no containing the mess. The sprays of hot, thick passion land on the desk and my shirt and pants.

  I crush myself into my chair, squirming with the force of the tidal wave washing through me. My chair slowly pivots toward the window, but I hardly notice.

  If anything, I can picture Tag waiting for me after work on the other side of that window.

  And it’s amazing.

  “Fuck,” I whimper at last as my body starts to go limp, my feet touching the floor as I melt into my chair. I’m hot and sweaty and strangely… mellow.

  Then my brain starts to clear, and I giggle softly at the situation.

  When I’m tucked back in my pants, I take a good minute for cleanup, dabbing my shirt and pants clean. Good thing my jacket will hide those spots until I’m home.

  My cheeks flush, and I walk with an extra little strut as I finally leave the office and lock up for the quick walk home. I can’t stop smiling with my own little secret.

  Oh, Tag. What the hell are you doing to me?

  I’m glad I cleared the pipes before calling Tag. I might still be a little giggly, but at least I’m not initiating phone sex.

  Yet.

  “So here’s the surprise. I’ve asked Tanner, and he approved an event next Monday. A little poetry reading. I’ll feature you on the poster: local poet Caleb… what’s your last name?”

  “Holt. Yours?” I ask, laughing softly.

  He hesitates for a moment and then snorts. “Nothing fancy. Campbell.”

  “Cool,” I murmur distractedly. Is Caleb Campbell too weird?

  “Local poet Caleb Holt,” Tag continues, unaware of the fairytale endings dancing around my brain. “Sponsored by Silver Crown. Everyone wins.”

  At last, my brain catches up. “Wait, did you say Monday?”

  “Yeah. I thought the longer you wait, the harder it’ll be. You only build it up as this mountain in your head.”

  Okay, he’s right there. After weeks of planning, I only grew more terrified of open mic night. Maybe if I do it as soon as possible, I’ll remember what he taught me about staying calm and reading to one person.

  “How do you like the plan?”

  “I love it.” That much is honest, surprising even me.

  “Thank God,” Tag groans. “I was worried you’d hate it. Or me. Maybe both.”

  “Never,” I promise, my hand rising to my chest. I’m lying on my back on the couch with the phone to my ear like a lovesick teenager. “As long as you don’t leave me alone up there.”

  “No way. I can stay up there with you. Or even read out some of my own writing. Only if you want.”

  I gasp. “Yes! You write, too?” He kept that quiet, all right.

  “Used to,” Tag says with another self-deprecating snort. “That’s the real surprise, right? Who didn’t have an angsty soulful phase? Don’t worry. I’ve been rated solidly mediocre. The warmup act is there to get people excited for the pros.”

  I giggle breathlessly. “Thank you,” I murmur sincerely. I love that he’s willing to stick his neck out and look like an idiot to make me feel less alone. And I’m helping Tag spread the word about his business.

  “We’re in it together. Deal?” Tag asks.

  “Hmm,” I hum playfully. “One condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “Dinner with my family before you make me famous. Sunday?”

  I can actually hear Tag gulp, which makes me grin. “Are you sure?” he murmurs.

  Oh, crap. Is this too soon? Maybe he wants to take his time to decide whether I’m boyfriend material, without the pressure of my family.

  “Very. Unless you don’t want—”

  “No, Caleb. It’s not that I don’t like you,” Tag cuts me off firmly, and I smile with relief, dragging my hand down my face as the stress vanishes. “It’s just that your family all seem… scary accomplished.”

  “I know,” I groan. I�
�m glad I’m not the only one who feels inferior in comparison. “But they’re nice, don’t worry. They just want to protect me.”

  Tag hums and I cringe, hoping I didn’t just scare him off. But before I can walk back my suggestion, he seems to make up his mind. “All right. Any price to pay for another date with you.”

  I grin to myself. “We don’t have to wait until Sunday for that.”

  “Well…” Tag chuckles. “Saturday is supposed to be the first real snow of the year. A couple of inches. I was thinking we could spend the day together?”

  A whole day with him in a romantic winter wonderland? I’m in heaven. So many times, I’ve imagined walking hand-in-hand along the snowy streets with a gorgeous guy of my dreams.

  Now it could actually come true.

  “Yeah,” I whisper and roll onto my front, pulling the phone away and squishing my face into the pillow to muffle my excited squeaking noise.

  Tag’s talking about ideas, his voice sounding hollow from the speaker. “—sledding if it snows enough, or walking around town. Or we could stick to my land. There’s lots of snow there—”

  I finally manage to contain myself and clear my throat, pulling the phone back to my face. “Your place,” I decide. “And you can pick me up that morning as soon as the roads are clear.”

  Tag laughs. “Aye aye,” he teases. “You’re in charge.”

  “I am. But so are you,” I murmur.

  “Yeah,” Tag murmurs. Then a series of sounds in the background make me raise my brows. “Shit,” he mutters. “I need to look at that pump. Text you later?”

  “No problem,” I say, trying to sound casual as I squirm around the couch with happiness. By the time he texts, I’ll probably still be lying here staring into space and planning our kids’ names.

  After our goodbyes, I press the phone against my lips like I’m kissing him good night, my cheeks heating up.

  I might be a lovesick fool, but it’s intoxicating and heady and… strangely empowering. Knowing that Tag wants me is like the ultimate elixir. And boy, oh boy, do I want him.

  Saturday can’t come soon enough.

  18

  Tag

  The phrase “snow angel” was invented for Caleb.

  I may be hopelessly infatuated with him, but I’m pretty sure that anyone with more objectivity would stop and stare, too.

  He’s dressed up in his puffy blue jacket and big furry black boots. He refused to wear a hat when I offered him one, so his golden curls are gathering snowflakes.

  And I can’t stop myself thinking romantic shit like, He’s the ice prince of my heart. I’m not giggling, but he is—a lot—and it makes me grin until my face hurts.

  God, I’m screwed.

  “There,” Caleb pants and turns his head left and right, trying to work out how to get out of the snow angel.

  I grin and skirt around him to his feet, trying not to mess up the pristine snow he threw himself into. I can probably reach over and grab his hands to help…

  The loud bark doesn’t give either of us enough warning.

  “Queenie, no!” I shout, but I’m too late. She’s already launched herself through the snow at Caleb, hitting his stomach with a solid thump as she wriggles all over the place, no doubt thrilled that he’s down here on her level.

  “Help!” Caleb laughs, trying to cover his face while she licks him like crazy, rolling onto her back and flailing through the snow. “Argh! My ears! Not the ears!”

  I’d help, but I can’t breathe. Not because the air is too cold, either. I’m just doubled over laughing, my hands braced on my thighs. The more I laugh, the more excited Queenie gets, and the more she mauls Caleb.

  Finally, Queenie peels herself away from Caleb and lunges at me, barking at my knees before she goes tearing away through the snow toward the lake.

  “Don’t—” I trail off and throw my hands in the air. There’s no stopping her now.

  She hits the water with a splash while Caleb just stares up at me, damp and mussed up and perfectly adorable. “What just happened?”

  “Chaos. The living embodiment of chaos, that’s what.”

  I crouch by Caleb’s side and grab his wrist as he clutches my shoulder. Together, we manage to pry him out of the snow angel. It’s pretty messy and surrounded by paw prints now, but in my eyes, that just makes it all the sweeter.

  Once he’s on his feet, he staggers into me and wraps his arm around my waist as I brush his curls out of his face again and try to dust the snow off them. Snow is already melting down the back of his neck, making him flinch and giggle.

  I’m so freaking happy when he’s around. I’ve barely thought about work at all. It’s like rediscovering a version of me that I thought was long gone—all playful and relaxed.

  Caleb rubs his hands together briskly and blows on them, but they’re still so pink that I wince.

  “Give me your hands,” I tell him, turning my palm up. When he rests his ice-cold fingers in my hand, I cup my other hand on top and rub vigorously.

  A strange series of noises draws Caleb’s attention, and he twists to look over his shoulder. “Is Queenie all right?”

  “Yeah. She’s probably harassing the ducks. Keeps trying to make friends with them.”

  Caleb laughs and looks back at me. “She’s running back to us with the world’s biggest log.”

  Sure enough, when I look behind Caleb, I snort. I don’t know where she found a branch that size from, but it’s dragging through the snow as she trips over it.

  “You need a full-time dog sitter,” I tell Queenie, but as usual she’s proud of the chaos. She drops the branch proudly at my feet and sits, grinning and wagging her tail furiously. It swishes through the snow like she’s making a snow angel of her own. Snow dog-butt.

  She looks at the stick and then me. “I’m not throwing it for you. I haven’t actually trained as a caber tosser.”

  Caleb, who’s taking a photo of his snow angel, giggles and snorts.

  Queenie barks and runs between us, then shakes herself off. This time I join in the cry of dismay as ice-cold water droplets fly everywhere.

  I groan and bend over to drag the branch over to the firewood pile. When I turn around, something makes impact with my chest.

  My jaw drops at the splatter of snow on my chest and the mischievous grin on Caleb’s face. He crouches in the snow, already scooping up another handful.

  “This is not the Ides of March, and I did not warm your hands so you can stab me in the back!”

  “The chest, technically,” Caleb retorts, hauling his arm back with another snowball.

  I only just duck in time for it to soar overhead, smacking into the side of the lean-to where I store the firewood.

  Adrenaline rushes through my body as I drop to a crouch and run my palms through the burning cold layer of snow at my feet. “Oh, it’s on!”

  Caleb might be cute and all, but I’m not letting him nail me in the face. Not this way, anyway.

  “Get back here, you…!” I exclaim as Caleb scurries for cover behind the garage. I’m hot on his heels, flinging my hastily-crafted snowball. It falls apart, and I curse.

  “Amateur mistake. You obviously didn’t study the art of snowballs,” Caleb pants as he shapes another ball in his frozen little hands.

  “And you did?” I finish mine first and fling it at his shoulder, but he flinches backward and it smacks directly into his chest, snow spraying up under his chin.

  Caleb squeals and falls backward as guilt floods me. I haven’t hurt him, have I? I should have been more careful. “Oh my God, are you all right?”

  “That’s really fucking cold!” Caleb exclaims, but I only realize it’s a trap too late. All of a sudden he brings his arm up and retaliates with a snowball of his own that bursts against my shoulder.

  “Wounded!” I exclaim and clutch my shoulder, staggering backward. “By trickery!”

  Caleb’s giggling like crazy, hopping to his feet. He looks around, but there’s no chance
to get away. Not the speed I launch myself toward him.

  As gently as humanly possible, my hand cupping the back of his head, I bodyslam him against the garage. “Enough,” I growl.

  “Yes,” Caleb moans and rolls his head back against the wall. I can’t feel the warmth of his body against me with this many layers of clothes, but he’s firm and eager against me.

  Heat flushes me, my heart suddenly thumping with delight. I intended it to be playful, but Caleb didn’t even bat a lash. He pushed it into a realm I didn’t intend, and now I can’t shake the arousal that’s flooding my veins. Doesn’t help that he’s grinding against my thigh, a faint smile on his lips like he knows just what he’s doing.

  “Mmmph.” I bite back a groan of frustration. I want him so much that I can’t make the right words come out.

  No need for words. Caleb tilts his head back and parts his lips in an invitation. I roughly card my fingers through his curls, brushing the snow off. Then I pull him in for a kiss, devouring his mouth.

  Queenie gallops closer, barking sharply. Then she butts the back of my leg with her snout.

  As air rushes back to my lungs and my brain switches on again, a tiny giggle slips from Caleb. “I’m okay,” he promises her. “This is our idea of fun.”

  Damn it. Queenie’s wide, adoring eyes are definitely puncturing the mood—but that might be a good thing.

  “Whew,” I pant against Caleb’s mouth and gently let go of his hair, touching his cheek instead. “Let’s go warm up.”

  “Let’s,” Caleb purrs.

  I can’t tell why he’s mischievously smiling, and my eyes narrow suspiciously. A moment later, I have my answer. The twin icy blocks of his hands are on the back of my neck.

  He wriggles loose from my grip and trots for the house with a big grin that diffuses any trace of annoyance I might have felt.

  I want to let him get away with everything. All of it. More than I even know how to guess at right now. I’ve found paradise, and it wasn’t just this place or this life.

  Paradise is Caleb’s smile.

  19

  Caleb