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“Platinum,” he whispers before he finally moves.
I can’t think of what that means, because he is suddenly building me up to another orgasm. He rocks, he rolls, he grinds, and I am helpless to do anything but take the pleasure he continues to induce inside my body before I finally burst again, calling out his name and biting into his shoulder just to remind myself he is real.
With two more thrusts, he stills, then lets go right behind me. He gives me a soft, slow kiss before pulling out, and when he goes to dispose of the condom, I find myself feeling empty. But the moment of space allows my mind to function again.
Empty. How can someone I don’t even fucking know make me feel so empty just by leaving my side for a second? I am certifiably insane to be so wild over a complete damn stranger.
With that thought, dread washes over me. The fog is gone. He is still a complete stranger, and I am still a whore. However, he comes back before I can make an escape. Crawling into the bed beside me, he pulls me to him. Then, at my hesitation, he moves away to give me space.
“Talk to me.”
“I need to go.” I remove my legs from his and cover my breasts.
“Not yet. Talk to me. An hour ago, you were clawing me like you wanted to devour me. You just came twice, babe. I gave that to you.” He strokes my face and taps my temple. “It’s obvious I want in there. What’s going on in your head?”
“Nothing. I just need to go.”
“Deny what you feel, and I’ll say not one word as you leave,” he challenges.
I hesitate, my eyes flickering, and he reads me.
“Deny it. Deny me.” He smirks, causing my body to feel like it’s on fire all over again.
“I don’t know you.”
“Name’s Caldwell, Morrison Caldwell, middle brother to Hendrix and Jagger from Detroit. What else you wanna know?”
“What’s your play?” I ask, feeling the obligation hit me. He’s right—he gave me not one but two orgasms. We’re not even.
Before I can continue, he replies, “No play. You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and I’m drawn to you. I wanna know you.”
“Talking naked isn’t really my thing,” I respond, feeling very vulnerable and even more exposed than before.
Without a word, he gets up and tosses me a button-up shirt from his closet, and I slip it on, realizing I am not getting out of this so easily.
I can do this. I can talk until he falls asleep. Then he gets what he is requesting, and I’ll be out of sight and out of mind.
I give him a bit of general chitchat where I avoid all of the important answers, then pretend to be tired, and he settles in behind me and orders me to sleep. Controlling my breathing, I let him believe I am enjoying dreamland. When he finally relaxes his embrace and his breathing steadies, I know he is sound asleep. Now I can make my escape.
My heart beats loudly in my ears as I shift from under his naked body. Scooping up my panties, I slip them on under my work skirt. I start to unbutton his shirt to leave it behind, but as I move, I smell it—I smell him. Not wanting to risk him waking, I skip putting on a bra and changing into my shirt, deciding it’s best to stay in his.
I look back at him one last time. “Caldwell” is tattooed down his spine in black ink. I will never forget that name, but I sure as hell will force myself to forget his touch, his taste, and his tenderness.
I shake my head, trying to erase him as I gather my things and slip out of his room.
It’s still early morning, when most people are sleeping, but it’s hours past the end of my shift as I make my way to the parking lot. The tingle on my neck causes me to look around like someone is watching me.
Scanning the area, I don’t see anyone at first glance, but as I insert the key into the door of my car, I see Marshall. Someone was watching me, indeed—my ex’s right-hand man.
Certainly, he’s not here for me. No way. Marshall doesn’t shy away from confrontation, and as much as he may like me in general, he won’t push Monte when it comes down to it.
Ever.
He must be here for someone else.
That is my last thought as I get into my car and head home, sated, satisfied, and for the first time in my entire life, somehow okay.
I feel the tingle on the back of my neck again as I laugh to myself. “I’m okay until the bottom falls out, and in the end, the bottom will fall out.” I mutter the words to no one as I pull in at Jamie’s and park my car.
