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JULIET
The rideback to Caleb’s place is torturous. Caleb doesn’t lay a hand on me, but somehow, it doesn’t matter. Just knowing that he’s seated there beside me is enough to drive my imagination wild. I don’t know where he’s taking me, or what he’s planning for when we arrive. But based on every moment we’ve spent alone together in the past few days…
I’m in for the night of my life.
The car pulls up on an exclusive block, outside a sleek, modern building. Caleb sweeps me inside past the doorman, and uses a special key for the elevator.
Penthouse floor.
We ride up in silence, my anticipation thrumming in my veins. Caleb has barely said a word to me since we left the gala, and it’s almost a relief not to have to manage polite small talk or casual conversation, when my body is wound tight like this.
Aching for release.
The doors slide open—directly into his apartment. Although, the word ‘apartment’ doesn’t do the place justice.
“Wow,” I breathe, stepping into the expanse of cool marble and polished wood. He must have the entire floor, because the living area alone must be a thousand square feet, decorated with chic furniture, featuring sweeping views of the city out the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Caleb heads to the vast marble kitchen and browses his bar while I wander, taking it all in. Low, modern furniture, sleek tech, minimal art… It’s gorgeous, but as I look closer, I realize it’s just like his office at work: strangely impersonal.
Anyone could live here. Anyone outrageously wealthy, that is.
If I’d hoped that his living space might offer me more insight into the man that is Caleb Sterling, I’m disappointed. He’s as much of an enigma as ever.
Music sounds, low jazz, drifting from the invisible built-in speakers. Caleb strolls to join me in the living room. He hands me a drink, and I take a gulp, my anticipation tangling up with nerves until I can’t think of what to say.
“You don’t have to be nervous,” Caleb murmurs, clearly seeing my jitters. He reaches out and runs a hand down the side of my cheek, stroking softly. “You won’t do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Oh.” I exhale. “OK.”
He gives me a crooked smile. “In fact, you’ll be begging for it.”
“You seem pretty sure of yourself,” I retort, trying to sound more confident than I feel. Because standing in the middle of a billionaire’s penthouse in a diamond necklace and gown?
Not my usual date-night plans.
But my pretense at playing it cool lasts all of five seconds, until the moment Caleb pulls me closer, and kisses me.
Hot and possessive, tantalizingly sensual. I melt to his touch immediately, sinking into his arms, opening my mouth to him, inviting the slick invasion of his tongue.
God, this man can kiss.
But it’s not all he can do. His hands roam over my body, and I feel the heat of him burning through our clothes.
He steps back abruptly.
“Stand over there,” he tells me, nodding to a spot in the middle of the room.
Heart in my throat, I do as he says.
Caleb sinks into a leather chair, and sits back, watching me with dark, glittering eyes.
“Red.” He says.
“Excuse me?”
“That’s your safe word. If you want me to stop, at any time, just say ‘red’.”
I exhale. A safe word? My sexual experience to date has never included anything like this. Not even close. But the idea that I still have some control over this whole thing is reassuring. That even though Caleb has me dizzy with desire, I hold the final trump card.
