I open the door, and there she is.
Calli stands in the hallway in a black trench coat, her hands gripping it tightly closed like she's afraid it might come undone on its own. Her hair falls over her shoulders, her face is flushed, pink creeping up her neck, and her beautiful hazel eyes are wide with a mixture of nervousness and excitement.
She's breathless, like she ran here. Or like she's been working herself up in the elevator.
"You came," I say.
Her throat works as she swallows. "Of course. I said I would."
I lean against the doorframe, drinking her in. The way her lips part slightly. The way she looks at me.
“What do you have hiding under that coat, Calli?” I ask, my voice low, intimate.
She hesitates, biting her bottom lip. Then, with a quick glance down the empty hallway, she opens the coat just enough for me to catch a glimpse. Black lace barely covering her breasts, the curve of her waist, matching panties, and those fucking heels.
Heat slams through me. I reach out and grab her wrist, pulling her into the suite before anyone else can see what's mine.
"I wasn't going to," she says as I close the door behind her and lock it, "but all your dirty texts and those pictures? You wore me down," she continues as I back her against the wall.
I smile. "That was the plan."
She rolls her eyes, but I catch the way her gaze travels over my body, taking in the fitted shirt, the rolled sleeves, the deliberate casualness that took me twenty minutes to perfect. "Also, Keira told me I had to. She literally drove me here. I was so embarrassed."
I laugh, dipping my head to bring my lips inches from hers. "Remind me to thank Keira," I say, and then kiss her.
The kiss is hungry and desperate. Two weeks of longing compressed into the slide of tongues. She makes a small sound in the back of her throat that sends heat spiraling through me.
God, I missed her.
"Come with me," I say against her ear, then step back and take her hand.
I lead her further into the suite, watching her eyes widen as she takes in what I've prepared. The candles flickering. The champagne. The roses. The petals scattered across the bed.
"Niko," she says, turning to me. "This is?—"
"Not enough," I finish for her. "Nothing would be enough for you."
Her eyes swell, tears of joy threatening to spill over.
"I don't know what I did to deserve this," she says and squeezes my hand, "to deserve you."
I bring her fingers to my lips and kiss them. "By just being you. And I know I've told you over text, but I wanted to reassure you. I'm all in on this, Calli. You. Us."
She smiles.
"Before we do anything else," I say, walking with her into the bedroom and toward the nightstand, "there's something I need to give you."
Her brow lifts, curious.
I pick up the velvet box. "I've been thinking about this since our first night," I say, handing it to her.
Her eyes focus on the box, and she looks at me curiously with narrow eyes.
"Open it," I say, nodding at the box.
Her lips part, but she says nothing. Her finger hovers, then slowly, she lifts the lid with trembling hands.
Nestled inside lies a collar. Supple black leather, diamonds embedded all the way around, meticulously crafted. The inside is lined with soft black suede. A small gold ring is in the front for a leash, if I ever want it, but dangling from it now is a single platinum lock, engraved with the words:Orea mou.
