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He’s silent for a moment. “Callie, I can see your car from where I’m standing. I know you’re home.”
Fuck, fuckity, fuck.
Double fuck.
You have let me down big time, God. You owe me now, buddy.
“Ummm…” I’m lost for words.
“Callie, what’s going on?” He’s beginning to sound frustrated with me.
“Can you go away and come back tomorrow?” God, I’m turning down sex here, I just know it.
“I’m not leaving. And you need to tell me what’s wrong.”
I just want good sex, God.
That’s all.
Is that too much for a girl to ask?
Sex with a perfectly waxed bikini line. Sex with waxed legs. Sex with beautiful blonde hair. Sex without a black, freaking mask stretched across my face making me look like God-knows-what.
I sigh. “Hang on.”
I yank the door open and stare at him. His eyes flick to my hair before landing on my face, and then travelling the length of me. He seems to get stuck on my legs. Well, pretty much every inch of my legs is on display in my short, sexy robe. At least I’m not wearing my old panties or a shirt riddled with holes. There is that. There is only that.
“See why I wanted you to go away,” I say while waiting for his gaze to return to mine.
He doesn’t lift his eyes. Just continues giving his full attention to my legs. I have no issue with this, because the longer he stares at them, the less time he gives my face and hair. “I’m looking at a pretty fucking good reason not to leave,” he says, low and deep. Husky as hell.
“Well, maybe we could strike a deal,” I suggest.
His eyes find mine again. “And what would that be?”
When his gaze begins to wander up, I click my fingers. “Eyes on my legs. The deal is you can come in if you just keep looking at them until I fix my face and hair. Yeah?”
Amusement crosses his face, and his lips twitch. “No deal, baby. If you think I can wait for all that to happen, you’re dreaming.”
He enters my apartment and closes the door behind him. When his hand reaches for the sash on my robe, I quickly snap my hand over his, halting his progress. “No!”
His eyes narrow. “Why?”
“Because I’m not ready for you, Luke.”
“Baby, you were born ready for me. You were fucking made ready for me.” While he’s killing me with words, he somehow manages to wrangle my hand from his, and he undoes my robe.
His gaze shifts to my breasts and lust hits me in my core. When his hands glide over my shoulders to shrug my robe off, my skin burns with need. And when he backs me up against the wall and lifts me, I wrap my legs around him and let go of any worry I have that I’m not ready for him.
To hell with it, Luke will just have to take me as I come.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful, Callie,” he rasps as he bends his face to my breast.
He sucks my nipple into his mouth, and I claw at his back, grasping his shirt with both hands. He’s
wearing one of those cottony shirts that drive me wild. I only vaguely realise this because his mouth is very distracting and I’m fairly sure my brain is about to stop functioning.
After treating both my breasts to his mouth, he begins kissing a trail up my chest to my collarbone and then to my neck.
