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She buries her face against my chest. “Well, this is awkward. Um. I liked how you were all in. One hundred percent focused. My ex didn’t focus on me that much during sex.”
“Asshole,” I mutter. Possessive anger replaces the pride I felt. The thought of that prick, Eric, touching her, and doing it badly. “He didn’t deserve you.”
“Sorry for bringing him up.”
“Don’t apologize.” I sigh. I’m being an asshole. Callie doesn’t owe me anything. I rub circles on her back while I calm the anger boiling through me.
“Want breakfast? I’m sure the, ah, chef, left us something,” I say.
“Chef?” She laughs, and pulls back so she can see my face. “You have a chef?”
“Don’t start. I knew you were going to laugh. I’m uh, actually learning to cook.” I rub a hand over the back of my neck, uncomfortable with how deficient I am at normal human things. I bet even shitty Eric knew how to make eggs.
“A chef, a driver, a secretary, private security. Anything else I should know about? Do you have someone to hold your towel in the gym? Oh, wait.”
I grimace. “You’ll notice I didn’t make you do that on Friday.”
“Oh yes.” She grins and rises from the bed, hips swaying. “You’re turning over a new leaf.”
She’s joking, but the truth of her words lances through me. Maybe I am. Would that be so bad? Would she like me better if I did? She might.
She follows me to the walk-in closet, where she watches me choose exercise pants and a sweatshirt. Her sigh when I grab the sweatshirt stops me. “Something wrong?”
“Just, um, I think it would be a shame if you wore a shirt. Pants are enough, don’t you think?” She looks hopeful and I start laughing.
“Here.” I toss her the garment. “You wear it. Then you don’t have to wear your clothes from yesterday. And you can ogle me.”
“Yes, please.” She slips the sweatshirt on, wiggling as it slips over her thighs, just covering her butt. “This is nice.”
“You are shameless.” But I say it without heat.
“I have to be.” She shrugs. “Reporter, remember?”
The reminder darkens my thoughts as she follows me into the kitchen on the first floor. It’s huge, with floor to ceiling windows that open into the atrium, and then the garden.
“Did I say something wrong?” she asks. I turn, shoulders tense, to see her worrying her lip. “It’s because I brought up reporting, isn’t it?”
“Don’t worry about it.” I don’t want to get into Annalise right now and all my fucked-up baggage from that relationship.
“I think I should go.” She moves to go and I stride forward, catching her hand, pulling her against me.
“I hate that your instinct is to run away when I’m being a jerk.” My words are a little rough, the honesty surprising even me.
She considers me. “So you admit that you can be a jerk?”
“I am…not an easy man, Callie. I think you know that. I’m not nice and I don’t want to be.”
Her eyes move over my face. They’re so blue and thickly lashed. The prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. “I told myself I’d only go for nice guys. No more bad boys.”
I freeze. “I can try,” I say carefully. What are you doing? What the fuck do you think you’re doing? “I could try to be nice, for you.”
“You’re missing the point.” Her lips curve up. “I was going to say that while you might the baddest guy of all, I don’t want you to change.”
My pulse thuds in my chest. “You’re joking. I made your life miserable. Thompson. We really need to talk about your sense of self-preservation.”
Her smile grows. “And now I can tell you call me Thompson every time you want to put some distance between us.”
I scowl. “Not true.”
