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This shift was a shorter one, leaving me with plenty of energy buzzing around my body, plenty of heat pulsing inside of me and telling me to claim her. The need is heightened by her pajama shorts creeping up into that tempting spot between her thighs, by her thick gorgeous legs calling out to me.
Her hair flows down to her shoulders, freed from its bun, and I reach forward and sift my fingers through it. “You’re going to look beautiful, Callie. I mean, hell, you always look beautiful. But you’re going to look even more so. Now put the damn dress on. That’s an order.”
A ripple runs through her at my words, the full effect of them crashing into her. She lets out a breathy sigh. I’d kiss her if it wasn’t for the sound of music playing from her mother’s room, just down the hall, and the fact Mrs. Simpkins could walk out at any second.
Her door is open and I don’t relish the idea of her wandering out here as I crush her daughter against the wall, unable to satisfy myself with a simple kiss.
“If you’re sure,” Callie murmurs.
I nod firmly. “I’m sure.”
“Okay.” She takes the bundle from me, our fingers brushing, sparking a whole world of electricity between us. “I won’t be long.”
I take a step back, nodding.
Part of me roars to stay and watch her change, but then we wouldn’t be able to go to dinner tonight. I’d snap and lose control completely the second she took her clothes off, sinking my hands into those curvy tits, bringing my mouth to her nipples, and sucking until they turn gorgeously hard.
Biting down, I close my eyes, telling myself to calm down even if I know it’s impossible.
“Are you okay?”
I look up to find Mrs. Simpkins standing there. She’s wearing a long denim shirt and jeans, and her hair is tied back.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, and then quickly correct myself. “Janet.”
I remember she asked me to call her that.
“I’m fine. Thank you. Callie’s just getting ready for our date.”
Janet’s face changes at the word date, seems to grow lighter, less weighted-down by her husband’s death. “It’s so wonderful, so good for her, to be able to go out and enjoy herself. I can tell she likes you, but…”
“What?” I ask.
She throws her hands up. “I don’t know who you are. It feels faintly ridiculous to say that because we’ve been staying here and… But I forget things sometimes. I get so consumed with myself. It’s not fair on Callie. It’s not fair on anyone.”
“Mrs…” Goddamn, I need to stop doing that. “Janet, don’t be so hard on yourself. Losing a loved one, especially so suddenly, it’s a hell of a thing. Callie and I only met the other night – the night I came to your apartment. She crashed into my car and I came to sort out the insurance details.”
Janet narrows her eyes at me. “So why, how…”
I swallow. The last thing I expected while waiting for Callie was to have a face-off with her mother, but she deserves to know what’s going on. A man has to always respect his partner’s family.
“Because I wanted her the moment I saw her,” I say, in the most respectful tone I can muster, using the most civilized words I can think of. “I want to be with her. I want to protect her, provide for her. I know it sounds crazy but—”
“It doesn’t sound crazy.” She interrupts me fiercely, stepping forward. “Not even close to crazy. It sounds quite romantic, actually. It sounds exactly how I felt when I saw my husband. Or maybe I’m projecting that – wishing it was how I felt. But it does not sound crazy. Okay.”
She smiles, and it changes her face even more. For a second all the grief drifts away and I see the woman she must’ve been before her husband’s death. My chest aches when I think of Callie dealing with these constant changes, these back-and-forths between the woman her mother used to be and the woman she is now.
“Maybe a little crazy. But as long as you have good intentions with my daughter. That’s all I care about.”
“I do. I swear I do,” I say quickly. “I’d never let anything happen to her. Hell, I wanted to kill that Todd bastard when he busted into the apartment.”
“That apartment…” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe I’ve let us slip into such a mess.”
“It’s in the past,” I tell her firmly. “You don’t need to worry about it anymore. Neither of you does. You never have to worry about money again.”
She blinks, tears rising in her eyes. I warn myself not to go too far. It’s not my place to offer up the grief counseling. Callie will want to do that, in her own way and in her own time.
