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No, no, I won’t allow myself to poison this goodness with negativity.
“Thanks, Mom,” I say. “And yeah, the more rubbery the better.”
She nods and gestures to the phone, resting on the corner of the counter. The red light blinking. “There’s a message for you on the machine.”
“For me?”
“Yeah. It’s Conrad.”
I swallow, nodding, even as part of me wants to turn and sprint back to the bedroom so I don’t have to hear his voice.
All night I’ve been picturing him and that woman – the panties wrapped around the door.
Reaching over, I press the play button.
“Hey, Callie.” His voice is loud, but even so, I can hear mayhem behind him, people rushing around. “I’m going to be here until at least this evening. It’s a real shit show. Wait for me until I get back, okay? And then I’ll explain everything. I have to go. Bye.”
I drop my head into my hands, my thought whirring, leaping around from the kiss, to the feel of his hands and his tongue against my body, to his possessive words, and finally to that sight, etched into my memory, branded.
The way they clasped onto each other. The way he snatched his hands away.
Please, Conrad, please have a good reason.
I don’t want to have to leave him.
Chapter Thirteen
Conrad
I ride the elevator up to my apartment with the spare keycard clutched in my hand, stifling the yawn that tries to escape me. It’s a curious combination of emotions I feel. My mind is completely alert, alive to the prospect of seeing Callie again after what feels like weeks. But my body is dog-tired from the double shift at the hospital, kept awake only by caffeine and adrenaline and training.
Walking down the hallway, I silently tell myself she’s going to be there. She hasn’t left me while I’ve been at the hospital. She hasn’t spirited herself away.
Fucking Alexis.
Why did she have to show up and ruin everything?
I swipe the keycard and walk into the apartment, a cloud coming over me when I hear – or don’t hear – how silent the place is. My footsteps seem far too loud as I walk deeper, into the living room, looking around to see if she’s relaxing on the couch.
Panic stabs at me and I rush down the hallway, to her bedroom, pushing it open before knocking. I can’t wait.
The idea that she’s left me, that my perfect woman is gone, is too damn much to take.
She turns at the sound of the door opening.
She’s sat at the desk on the far side of the room, a textbook open. I’m too far away to tell what the book is about. But I’d bet my life savings it’s one of her interior design college ones.
I let out a growl as our meet eyes, as my gaze slips over her tank top, showing her pink bra beneath. She’s tied her hair up, giving me a better view of her full flushed cheeks, a blush spreading from her face down her neck, creeping over her gorgeous skin.
“I thought you were gone,” I say, closing the door behind me.
“It’s late,” she murmurs. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to come home.”
Home.
The word hangs between us for a moment. I can tell she realizes what’s just happened, the importance of the word when an answering shiver dances across her features. I can tell she feels the same.
Home.
It sounds right, true.
She stands quickly, a jolt moving through her, as though she’s getting ready to do something drastic, like slapping me or kissing me or something else. At the last second, she hesitates.
“It’s time to explain,” she says, coming to a stop bare inches from me.
Does she really think I’ll be able to resist her now, when the scent of her is so close, calling to me?
I grab her shoulders and squeeze her against me, driving forward with my manhood, letting her feel how much withheld lust is scorching my insides. I’m solid, rock-fucking-solid, and she whimpers as our lips part and our tongues clash together.
She shivers and her hands tighten on my arms. I can tell it takes a large effort to push herself away, the same effort it takes me every second not to maul her.
Tilting her head, she stares up at me with a note of sassiness in her eyes. “No more kissing until you explain, Conrad. I’m serious.”
“Are you the boss now, eh?” I tease.
She takes a step back. “I mean it.”
I sigh and walk over to the bed, dropping down and rubbing the back of my neck.
Something in her softens as she takes a seat at the desk, wheeling herself over so we’re sitting close. Her expression loses some of its spark, just a tiny bit. “Long day?”
I huff out a sigh. “Yeah, you could say that. I’m starting to forget what sleep feels like.”
