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He chuckles, leaning in. “We can make out anytime you want,” he whispers.
I push his arm. “You’re such a flirt.”
His smile fades as his eyes sink deeper in mine. “I don’t want you to think for one minute that I don’t care about you, because I do. And I don’t want you to think there is anything wrong with you, because you’re perfect.”
My chest squeezes, something wet dripping onto my cheek. Jake is wrong, I’m not perfect, I’m fucked up with twisted issues I can’t seem to get a control of. And yeah, finding out my first ever boyfriend was using me as a cover-up messes with my mind. And being drunk right now is heightening these emotions. I wipe my tear away. “I have no clue why my heart feels like it’s breaking a little right now.”
He cups my cheek. “Because in another life, we would have been great together. If I didn’t like men and you didn’t have your unspoken issues with your father, we’d be perfect. And we both know that. It’s just not in our cards, babe.” He wipes another tear away, his eyes glazing over. “I wish it was, though, you’re amazing, Callum.”
I choke out a laugh. “I’m not. I cheated on you.”
He laughs. “I’ve been cheating on you before I asked you out. I gave you every reason to want to cheat. That’s on me, babe.”
I pull him closer, soaking in his warmth, letting his familiar safe scent comfort me. Pulling back, I let my arms slowly drop from him, taking a step back. “Do you need a ride?” he asks.
I shake my head, “No, I have somewhere I need to be.”
* * *
I standat the door to the mansion, my finger hoovering over the doorbell. What am I doing here? I’m drunk and vulnerable, this is the last place I should be, but my mind led me straight to him. Holding my breath, I press the button and wait.
The door swings open, Lincoln’s hand squeezes the doorframe as he looks at me with narrowed eyes. I’m starting to think he may have never seen the full capacity of the world, but maybe the narrowed eyes are only for me. His hair is wet from a shower, black sweatpants clinging to his tapered waist, a gray t-shirt fitted tightly over his built chest.
“You’re late, Doll Face.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
She’s standingat my door, a thousand rules already broken from being late all the way down to the fucking shorts she has on. Her hair is a mess, bow barley hanging onto a strand of hair. Her eyeliner and mascara are smudged around her yes, lipstick smeared from someone else’s lips.
“I know,” she whispers, her hand tightening around the bag she brought. With her belongings, I presume.
“Why should I let you come in?” I ask. “You’ve broken my rules and you look like a mess and reek of alcohol.”
She bites her lip. “Because I showed up.” I cross my arms over my chest, leaning against the doorjamb. “Look, I was—I was scared, I’ve never done anything like this before.”
I stare at her, making her squirm under my heavy gaze. Sighing, I push the door open, motioning her in. I grab her bag from her hands. Carrying it with me as I head up the stairs, turning left at the top. I stop at the door next to mine, opening it up.
I had the room designed for her. An old Hollywood theme with modern whites and gray tints. Splashes of rose pink sprinkled about. There is a full-length Hollywood mirror across from the bed that rests just above the floor. Gray and white fur accents. Fucking throw pillows and crochet blankets that cost a small fortune. I don’t know why I went through the trouble of trying to make her feel comfortable. I just knew the slandered navy blue I had in here before wouldn’t work.
“I want you to get cleaned up and get some sleep,” I say, taking a step back before I grab her, because it’s what my body aches for me to do.
“But we’re not going too…” she trails off.
I shake my head. “Not like this.”
I turn, heading for the door, when her small voice gives me pause at the threshold. “Good night, Lincoln.”
I close the door, resting my head on the doorframe, a smile breaking across my lips.
She showed up.
* * *
The rose silksheets make her milky skin pop. Highlighting the tones of her flushed cheeks and scraped knees. She seems to have gotten hot last night, because the covers are bunched at the end of the bed. Her hair is braided, face clean of any makeup, really bringing out her youth and innocence. She looks sweet, and if I had never met her before, I’d believe that, but I’ve heard that bratty mouth, seen those eyes roll like it’s an Olympic sport. Like Lilith, her presence is made to draw you in, leave you wanting and miserable with lust. And she just made a deal to be with the devil.
I’ve never been one to watch someone sleep, never wanted to see what is arguably a boring notion, but with Callum, I want to know everything. It’s like I can’t fully start my day until I see her. I can’t focus my mind unless I know every tiny detail about her. Like how she sleeps, or what she writes in her stupid journal.
I debated counseling, to figure out why I’m attracted to my student, what made me draw up an NDA three days after meeting her, why I’d risk everything just to feel her soft skin against mine, but honestly, I don’t give a fuck.
