Smut warning. Enjoy!

***

nine when Caleb knocks on my door, and his playful half-grin sends a thrill of excitement down my spine, warm and familiar. His well-fitting t-shirt and dark jeans and messy, golden hair are just what I need to see, and he can barely get out a "Hey," before I pull him inside, swiftly closing the space between us, my lips soft and needy on his.

He holds me tight and kisses me back, and it's gentle yet fervent, caring and wanting all at the same time. By the time we make it to my room, his shirt and mine are a mess on the floor, and I'm working on his belt, his fingers rough but tender on my waist, flirting with the top of my jeans, brushing teasingly against the soft skin below my stomach.

Before I can tug down his pants he pulls me away slightly, hands clutching my hips, his flushed, very handsome face looking down at me. His blue eyes are bright, sparkling, his lips pink and wet from my own. My confusion must be very obvious because he places a comforting kiss on my neck, and a sharp sigh escapes my tingling mouth.

"Rosalyn," he begins, his voice rough and low. "You sure you want to do this now?" The sweetness of it, the look of concern mixed with want written all over his face, makes me hot from head to toe, and I step back from him, escaping his grip.

His surprise quickly melts into understanding as I bite my lip, titling my head to the side ever so slightly, looking him in the eye as I slowly undo the button of my jeans, pulling down the zipper and sliding them down my legs. Stepping out of them, I raise an eyebrow, daring him to refuse me. I smile when he shakes his head, narrowing his eyes and flashing me a mischievous, wolfish grin.

He pulls me against him roughly, hands and mouth all over me, and I can't help the soft, wanting sounds that escape my lips, low and breathy. He lets me get rid of his jeans, and the feeling of him against me, bare skin on bare skin and nothing but tiny pieces of cloth between us, makes all other thoughts besides him escape my once anxious mind.

My bed creaks when he lowers me onto it, and my legs wrap around him, pulling us together in all the best places, and we both moan. It's been so long that I've almost forgotten what it's like, but Caleb makes up for the lost time, his hands and lips and fingers and tongue taking my mind into a dark state of bliss. It doesn't take us long to shed the rest of our clothes, and around wet kisses we breathily mutter things about birth control and condoms, barely able to let go of each other. When he looks into my hooded eyes, asking me one last time if I really want to do this with him, there is no doubt in my mind, and my lips on his, desperate and hungry, confirm it.

Everything that comes next is hot and tender and so incredibly satisfying, and in his strong, capable arms it doesn't take me more than a couple minutes to unravel, sighing, collapsing sated onto the cool sheets. He follows soon after, and my hands tangle through his soft hair, his skin deliciously rough against the smoothness of my neck.

We don't stop until well after midnight, neither of us able to let go. After collapsing beneath him the last of countless times, I'm so tired that getting under the covers is about all I can manage.

In breathless whispers I convince him to stay the night even though we both have work tomorrow morning, and I promise to wake him up extra early, setting my alarm and letting him pull me against him, both of us drowning in our fatigue. His hand runs itself through my hair as I rest against his bare chest, and with our legs twined gently together, we fall into a deep, exhausted sleep.

•§•

a matter of untangling ourselves, pulling apart our tired, sticky, sore bodies. I laugh as he tugs me on top of him, and even though I warn that we'll be late for work he convinces me otherwise with his soft mouth and wandering hands, and we have each other again, young and hungry, insatiable.

Thankfully we're quick, and by the time we're done showering and he's sliding on his shirt, there's still enough time for him to rush home and change. Before he hurries out the door I drag him into the kitchen, pouring him a to-go cup of hot coffee, stuffing his hand with a muffin. He gifts me a wide, gorgeous grin, and my mind goes blissfully blank when he pulls me in for a long, open-mouthed kiss.

He promises to call me later, and I giggle as he brushes his nose softly down my neck, planting his lips on my collarbone. "Thanks for the coffee," he whispers gruffly, eventually making his way to the door.

Before he can escape I plant another sloppy kiss on his laughing mouth. "Thanks for the sex," I echo softly, and it earn me a full, dazzling grin.

I feel rather than hear his low chuckle, and, hands full, he gives me a last peck on the cheek and a dark wink. "Anytime."

We're both laughing as I swat him away, and I wave to him outside my door, watching his lean form disappear down the hallway, my face still split in a goofy, absurdly happy smile. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't sore, but it's without doubt the best kind.

All my troubles momentarily, wonderfully forgotten, I finish my breakfast, texting Shauna in order to placate her long string of unanswered messages.

God shauna give it a rest lol

And you know I dont kiss and tell.

She replies instantly, and I know I haven't smiled so much in one morning in a long time.

Come ooon ros

This kinda thing is very rare I need deeetails 😋

Laughing, I reply: Coffee after work k

I know she approves because of the string of happy emojis she sends me, and I drop my phone into my purse, slipping on my shoes before heading out.

I'm humming as I wait for the elevator, my great mood still completely intact. I already know today will be a good day.

But of course, as you may have already guessed, it takes just one swift encounter to turn my world back upside down.

Just as I step into the elevator, pressing the button down to the parkade, a hand reaches in to hold the door, and none other than my beautiful, impeccable, infuriating (and at this point, maddeningly unbearable) neighbour rushes in, surprised when he sees me. My eyes avoid his, looking anywhere but at him, and the silence between us is heavy and toxic. We make it all of three floors before I hear an exasperated groan, and quick as a flash his hand pushes the alarm button, stopping the elevator in its tracks.

Now, I know as well as you do that this kind of thing only happens on TV. People don't actually stop elevators to deal with the person they're stuck next to, but the rush of frustration that quickly overtakes me is a testament to the fact that I've just been thrown into an episode of Grey's Anatomy.

"What the hell?" I look at him incredulously, my heart rate picking up every second my eyes are on him.

He looks so incredibly irritated, and that just makes me angrier. "Rosalina," he begins, but before he can say anything I push the button again, releasing the break.

He lets out a deep sigh, pressing the alarm once more, and the amount of rage that builds up inside my chest is so unhealthy that I can feel the blood boiling in my veins. My face red, I look at him accusingly, unable to form anything coherent.

I gape at him a little, sputtering, but his eyes rest unflinchingly on my face, his sharp features set in displeasure. "You have no right—" I begin, but he cuts me off by pushing me forcefully against the wall. A loud, frustrated gasp escapes my mouth. "Get off of me!"

I have absolutely no patience for him, and he can tell. From the look on his face, my hostility surprises him, and I just can't believe he's so oblivious to my anger, like he's not the reason that my life is slowly going to shit.

"You know the walls are really thin, right?" His face is close to mine, as is usually the case, and his words confuse me for a second, but the realization dawns on me, making my skin hot with embarrassment.

"Let me go." I lift my chin up defiantly, unwilling to let him get to me any more than he already does.

He ignores me, continuing his train of thought. "Imagine how hard it was for me to get some decent sleep last night with all the noise coming from next door." His eyes are sharp and dark, piercing.

I scoff, unable to believe what I'm hearing. "That is none of your business." I push against him, hard, trying to rid myself of his suffocating presence, but he's immovable, his chest solid and very, very close. "I cannot believe you have the nerve to chastise me about anything," I hiss, my voice venomous. "After the other night—"

He lets out a deep, harsh laugh that stops me right in my tracks. "Dolcezza," he begins, a look of pity making its way across his perfect features, "if your little heart was broken from—"

So fast he can't even react, my hand goes up to slap him hard across the face, stopping him mid-sentence. I know I've surprised him from his shocked expression, and I watch with fear, and a disturbing amount of satisfaction, as a deep redness blooms where I struck him, the skin hot and reeling. The look of disbelief on his face is priceless, and it gives me a small moment of relief.

"I don't give a shit about the kiss, Nero," I say, seething, and the lump in my throat tells me that I'm lying. I swallow it, ignoring the dryness in my mouth. "I'm talking about you threatening my family. They're just doing their job, Nero!"

Whatever else I was going to shout dies in my throat when I see the look on his face, the realization flooding across his once stony features. My mouth opens slightly, confused, when I catch the guilt, the remorse. He takes a step back, running a hand tiredly through his thick hair, rubbing his forehead anxiously. I am so taken aback by his reaction that I'm still as I watch him, waiting for him to explain the sudden change, wanting some kind of clarity.

We're silent for what seems like forever before he meets my eyes again, and now they are soft, sorry. "I know you're not going to believe me, gioia, but that was not my doing."

My incredulity must be very clear, because he looks pained, trying to get me to understand. He swears under his breath, closing his eyes with a deep sigh. "My men did that against orders, and I didn't know about it until it was too late." His eyes, dark and rich like coffee or chocolate or something just as sinful, search mine, imploring me to believe him.

I shake my head slowly, unwilling to accept it, but he continues, insisting. His voice sounds so sincere that it hurts my brain and it definitely hurts my tired heart, and deep down I know he has no reason to lie to me. "Believe me, dolcezza, that was not my decision." His eyes float away from mine, like the next thing he is about to say makes it too difficult to look at me. His voice is low and quiet when he speaks. "Hurting you was not my decision."

I purse my lips, my eyes starting to prick. I curse, my entire body tired and exhausted and vulnerable, all my anger replaced with defeat, fatigue. My words are so soft and hoarse that if he wasn't close he would have missed them. "But you did anyway, Nero." I don't know, anymore, if we're talking about the kiss or the threats, or both. Looking down at the floor, I focus on the expensive leather of his shoes, my eyes threatening to burst any second. "I can't be around you."

I hear his sigh, deep and full of regret, and I sense his fingers pressing the button, putting us back into motion. "Just know it wasn't me, Rosalina." There's a pause, and when the elevator opens, neither of us move. "I'm sorry."

Slowly, I nod, and then it's me who walks away first, leaving him behind to wallow, just like I've had to do who knows how many times before.

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