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So not in the cards.
The problem? I’m there. I’m fucking there. I won’t say I’m in love, but that’s only because I’m stubborn.
Donny is everything. Fun. Charming. Brilliant.
And of course to-die-for sexy.
The words are on the tip of my tongue. I want to ask my question again.
Why do you think that is?
But I won’t.
I will absolutely not ask again.
Never will I be the kind of woman who has to have her ego stroked by a man. Even though…right now I want that more than anything.
I grab the bottle of shampoo and hand it to him. “I’m done.” I open the door, step out of the shower, and grab one of the soft forest-green bath sheets. I relish the warmth of the steamy room and the thick towel hugging my body and then grab another for my hair.
Donny squeezes shampoo into his palm while I wrap my long hair into a turban with the towel. All my product is in my unpacked bag, but on the counter sits some leave-in conditioner. Not a brand I’m familiar with—I get all my products from Raine—but it’s here. I squeeze as much water from my hair as I can and work some of the product through to the ends. A blow dryer sits on the other end of the counter in a wicker basket.
But…I need a brush or comb first. I open all the drawers, but I don’t find anything.
Guess I’ll go to my bag after all. I need clothes anyway. My dress, shoes, and thong are all still downstairs.
I secure the towel around my body and leave the bathroom, shutting the door so Donny will still have the warmth of the steam.
My bag sits at the foot of the bed, where Donny must have stowed it when we arrived here before dinner. I set it on the bed, open it, and pull out my lounge pants and a tank. I don’t own any sexy or skimpy sleepwear. I lotion up, apply my deodorant, and throw on the clothes. Then I grab my brush and head back into the bathroom just as Donny turns off the water.
I grab a dry bath sheet and hand it to him.
“You have too many clothes on,” he says.
“Did you want me to stand in here and comb my hair naked?”
“Uh…yeah. If I had it my way, you’d always be naked.”
I chuckle. “Nice line.”
“It’s not a line.”
“So you want to keep women naked. At your beck and call. Barefoot and pregnant.”
“I didn’t say anything about pregnant, but barefoot is good. I love your red toenails.”
I look down. I don’t usually paint my toenails, but Raine ran a special last week before she left town, and I took advantage of it. It was an extravagance, especially when money’s so tight, but with the discount she already gives me, I went for it. Mani, pedi, facial. I had her put clear polish on my fingernails, but for some reason, the red called out to me for my toes.
Very un-Callie-like.
“Tell you what,” I say. “I’ll stay naked if you stay naked.”
He lets out a laughing huff. “Uh…deal!” He pulls me into his embrace.
Then his mouth is on mine, probing my lips open, and we’re kissing. Again. A firm and drugging kiss that makes me unable to think.
My hair’s going to dry in a tangled mess, but what the heck? This kiss… Can I ever get enough of Donny? His kisses? His dick inside me?
Already I’m throbbing, my nipples erect and ready to burst out of the tank top.
Though the bath sheet is wrapped around his waist, his chest is dripping wet, and the water seeps through my tank to my skin, my nipples reacting further.
Now what will I sleep in?
But that’s the last thought.
This spark with Donny Steel is everything. More than that even because I’ve never experienced anything like it. All thought flies out of my head until only the most pure and raw emotion remains.
Kisses.
Kisses and more kisses.
His fingers on my nipple, tugging through the damp cotton of my tank. His other hand between my legs. His erection pushing into my belly through the lush velour of the bath towel.
He breaks the kiss then.
“Wet, Callie,” he whispers against my ear. “You’re wet.”
I sigh softly, unable to form words. Of course I’m wet. I’m wet just being in his presence.
“I’m going to suck those nipples of yours for hours,” he says on a growl. “Eat that wet pussy. All of it, Callie. I’m going to do everything to you.”
Words still don’t come. A pink haze seems to wrap around me. Everything’s foggy, and it’s not the steam from the shower.
It’s this. All of this. Donny’s kisses. His hands. His low and raspy voice against my neck.
Then I’m in his arms, the towel drops from his waist, and he whisks me out of the steamy bathroom. My hair is still in wet knots, but I don’t care.
