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If we were back at his place, he’d smell of scotch, cigars, and champagne. He’d taste of the alcohol too, like the sultriest drink I could ever drown myself in. His body would be heavy over mine, demanding as well.

And it wouldn’t be just his fingers inside me, not this time.

He’d have his hard shaft out, and he’d be deep inside me, driving fiercely into my G-spot with every thrust of his powerful hips. At that image, my nerves felt like they’d caught on fire, like the passion curling through my core and gut had erupted into a riot of flame over my whole body. My hand thrust harder and harder into my vagina as my thumb rubbed a frantic circle against my clit. His dick would be thick and hot, stretch me wider than I could even imagine. I’d be so full. I plunged my hand as deeply as I dared, and then I came.

Everything exploded in heat and light and passion behind my closed eyes. Pleasure covered my body in a succession of waves, and I shivered as I screamed out his name.

Thank God Ally’s not around.

After a final buck of my hips, I fell back to the mattress and was still grateful I was alone. My breathing was ragged, and my heart hammered in my chest, but I was beginning to come to my senses, beginning to feel whole and sane again.

But that wouldn’t last, not for long.

Callum was like a drug, one that had worked its way into my system and drove me nuts. A shot of adrenaline straight to the heart that left me daring and ready to do anything, even things that shocked the hell out of me. He was like a cliff I was willing and ready to take a swan dive off of. I wasn’t sure where that would lead, but I knew I was powerless to stop it.

***

“When you said that we’d be grabbing Chinese today, I thought it might be code,” I said a couple days later. We’d had two more spirited “dictation” sessions, and Callum had been kind enough not to bring up my tears on our date. He’d also been smart enough not to ask me too many personal questions again. Still, when he asked me to lunch, a casual eatery not too far from the office wasn’t what I’d had in mind. “Apparently, you have a contemporary casual side?”

He twirled his fork around in his chicken lo mein, and I had to frown. That wasn’t the image I always thought about since I’d met him at the beginning of the week. Granted, my family had rich friends and associates. Rationally, I knew people weren’t always titans of industry in every moment of their lives. Correction. Other people weren’t always on, always presenting the image of wealth and breeding. Even though my father had put himself through the Ivy League education and worked to build his company from scratch, he worked his hardest to make it appear as if he’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth.

Seth Kilshimer from the old neighborhood in Brooklyn had been into baseball, cheap beer—and still drank Pabst when he wasn’t having guests over—and had an encyclopedic knowledge of comic books that he and my brother had once bonded over. Mr. Kilshimer, head of the tenth largest real estate conglomerate in North America, attended the opera regularly, gave to the Kennedy Center, and pretended he loved sushi even though he never ate it when not out with our family friends. I think he secretly hated dead fish of all kinds.

But it was about the image, that “veneer of civilization” as Dad called it.

I guess I assumed Callum would be the same way, that any rich guy would try and lord the fancy things over the regular people at every turn.

Maybe there was a lot about the world of the wealthy—well, the other wealthy—and real estate tycoons that I only thought I’d been guessing at as a kid. It wasn’t a comforting thought. I didn’t have much time to get up to speed before I’d have to swim with the sharks and barracudas myself as a junior partner in my father’s firm. God, I’d never be ready in time.

“Seriously, do I have extra bitter broccoli in my teeth?” he asked, his lilt doing serious things to my brain and making that familiar heat and longing flare through my belly again. “You just seem lost in thought.”

Sighing, I bit into my sweet and sour shrimp. “It just seems so ordinary.”

“I can take out the private room at any five-star restaurant you want, whenever you like,” he offered as he winked at me. “But that’s not what you mean, is it?”

“No. I guess I just figured you’d keep up an image.”

“With my usual flurry of underlings and dates, yeah, I tend to, but for right now, if you can just be more daring with me, then I like being more relaxed with you, luv.”

I nodded. “That’s good. I guess I keep trying to figure out, even this early in, what to expect from you.”

Callum laughed, a low, throaty chuckle that I was positive had melted the panties off more than one woman in his time. God knew it worked with me. “I try to be mysterious here, lass. I have friends that say it comes off more as brooding. I think I make a delightful enigma.”

I snorted. “Maybe I need to meet your friends. At least they keep that ego of yours in check.”

He nodded. “Maybe you will. Not now, but someday.”

“We can’t talk about futures.”

“I was being serious.”

Shaking my head, I pushed my plate away. “But we both know this is a secret tryst, something just between us. If one of your friends blabbed off to my father, we’d both be screwed. Besides, it’s complicated enough as it is. I don’t think we should drag other people into something that’s only been going on for five days.”

“But it’ll be a week soon, especially after the weekend I have planned for us.”

Quirking my head at him, I focused on his hypnotic eyes. God, he could talk me into anything with those fathomless depths. “Now, that’s more like it. Keeping it light, are we? What do you have planned for us, Cal?”

“Cal, huh?”

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