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I physically have to chase her out of my office, to which she laughs and hugs her dogs, using them as armor.
Once I’m finally back at my desk, I release a harsh sigh, but I don’t open my laptop. Instead, I pull out my phone and stare at the text messages I received from Kingsley over the past few days.
We’ve had each other’s numbers for years, but we only contact each other on the rare occasion that we work on a case together. Which mainly happens when a client is both charged criminally and sued civilly.
All our exchanges have been dry, professional, with his usual dash of scathing sarcasm.
However, the texts he’s sent over the last few days were drastically different.
You seem to have the self-care mentality of a toddler, so this is your reminder to clean your wounds and take painkillers.
A few minutes later.
Another reminder to do as I just told you. This isn’t about you, sweetheart. I don’t want Gwen upset when she finds out you’re hurt.
Also, I still have your sweet taste on my tongue. Five-star meal. Highly recommend.
The following morning.
If you show your face at the firm, I’m going to have security throw you right out. Eat your breakfast.
Oh, and morning. Are you healed enough to take my dick between your lips? Or legs? Or ass cheeks? I’ll take what I can get.
During the day.
I’m in the middle of a meeting, but all I think about is how your greedy little cunt shattered around my fingers.
Do you still have my marks on that bruisable skin, sweetheart? Do you feel me on you with every move you make?
By the way, before those marks disappear, I’ll give you new ones.
Did you have lunch?
Dinner?
Are you touching yourself tonight or do you have a toy that does the job?
Just for the record, my dick is certified to give a much better performance. All you have to do is ask.
His texts continued to shift between mundane things to lust-filled ones in the span of seconds. To say I was getting whiplash would be an understatement.
But more than that, my thighs clenched when reading them. Even now, I can feel the heat rising up my neck and cheeks, then spreading over my body with the disturbing persistence of a hurricane.
The reason I haven’t replied to any of them isn’t bashfulness or lack of words. It’s the pure terror of my reaction to him. To this side of him that I didn’t know existed but am slowly but surely getting used to.
I don’t want to be used to Kingsley. Or his care. Or his dirty words.
As he so eloquently put it, he’ll go back to his escorts eventually.
That’s what men do when they’re bored. They leave.
And I refuse to be another stop on his route.
That doesn’t mean I didn’t get drunk reading and rereading his texts. I should’ve thought about the threat my father possibly poses on me more, but no.
Damn Kingsley has the destructive effect of a plane crash. A mass shooting. And a destructive war.
The door to my office opens, and even though working wasn’t part of my preoccupation, I sigh. “I swear to God, Callie. I’m going to throw you out the window.”
