Page 45 of Callow
“Do you want to do a little lap before we eat?” he asked, breathing even as I started to feel like I was getting a decent workout. My arms were going to be jelly the next day. But I did want to do lap before we got ourselves up onto the little island.
“Wow,” I said after Callow pulled the blanket off of the top of the picnic basket, spread it out across the sand, and we both moved to sit on top of it.
“Yeah,” Callow agreed. “Knew this would be a good idea, but had no idea how nice this would be.”
“It’s like we’re all alone in the world,” I agreed as Callow started to pull items out of the picnic basket, starting with a small pop-up camping lantern that allowed us to be able to see the food, if not much else.
“Alright. What do we have?” I asked as Callow removed two foil-wrapped sandwiches from insulated bags.
“Meatball parm,” he said. “And eggplant parm. Didn’t know if you eat meat.”
“I eat just about everything. So I’m cool with half of each,” I said as he produced bottles of iced tea.
With that, we ate and watched the lights of the surrounding towns flicker and listened to a playlist Callow said he’d put together.
It wasn’t until the food was wrapped up and put away that I exhaled hard and lay back on the blanket, staring up at the sky.
After moving the picnic basket to the side, Callow joined me.
“This is perfect,” I said as a little shiver moved through me.
“Would be slightly more perfect if it wasn’t so cold,” he said, having felt the shiver. Reaching to slide an arm under me, he pulled me up and onto his chest, sharing his warmth with me.
“I disagree,” I decided as a different sort of tremble coursed through me as Callow’s arms wrapped me up.
God, it felt so good to be held, to be so close to a man. No, not just any man. This particular man.
Callow was everything I didn’t know I wanted. Steady, secure, experienced, laid-back. A man with years and depth and, because of those things, a lack of judgment.
That wasn’t even mentioning his protective instincts, his willingness to hold a strange woman when she cried, and his ridiculous good looks.
“You’re right,” he agreed. “The cold is definitely better.”
I shifted closer, my knee whacking accidentally into his prosthetic. “Sorry. Did that hurt?” I asked.
“Nah, it’s fine,” he said, reaching down to grab my leg and pulling it over both of his legs.
“Does it ever hurt?” I asked, not knowing if this was a topic I was supposed to bring up or not. But it was a part of him, so it felt relevant to be curious about.
“Not usually just sitting around, no. If I go too hard for too long, I can get blood blisters and shit like that. Makes it impossible to wear the prosthetic for a while.”
“How do you get around if you can’t wear it? A wheelchair?”
“Usually crutches. It doesn’t happen often anymore. That was more when the amputation was new and I was still either getting used to wearing the prosthetic or refusing to listen to my body and its new limitations. Had an incident a little bit back that reminded me why I need to not overdo it.”
Maybe that was why he would sometimes absentmindedly rub his leg. He was remembering recent pain.
“Does it bother you?” he asked as his fingers started to drift through my hair, a delicious little rub against my scalp that was at once comforting and…stimulating.
“That you overdo it and hurt yourself?” I asked.
“That the prosthetic exists,” he clarified.
“What?” I asked, pushing up to look down at him, my hair falling to curtain the two of us. “No. Of course not. I’m not asking because it bothers me. I’m just curious.”
“If you’re worried about there being any sort of… limitations,” he said as his hands sank into my ass, grabbing tightly and pulling me fully over him, my knees straddling either side of his hips.
“I’m not worried,” I said as our bodies melted together, my voice sounding a little thick with my growing desire. His own need was becoming obvious against me as I leaned down to claim his lips.