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If Brynn were here, she’d slap me.
His expression remains unmoved while he watches me stammer through my speech. “I know who you are.”
That voice. So refined and confident. I couldn’t forget that voice if I tried. And I have definitely tried. I’m beginning to believe that Fate hates me. Naturally, the one person on earth who can’t stand the sight of me is one that I could stare at all day. I’m finally face-to-face with my insecurities. Now what?
While Reid was positively gorgeous in the all-American, boy-next-door sort of way, Cal Suppato is a uniquely, intoxicating taste of sin wrapped up in a perfectly tailored bow.
The bite in his tone blended with the irritation in his expression snaps me out of my temporary state of drunkenness and reminds me who I’m dealing with.
I close my mouth and narrow my eyes at him. “No. You don’t. You might know my name, but you have no idea who I am.”
I’m stronger than you think, and I’m not letting you intimidate me anymore.
He leans back in his chair and clenches his jaw. “I know you have a habit of barging in this office uninvited.”
He’s obviously referring to the last time I saw him in here. Although he wouldn’t know it, technically I was in this office before he was that night. I open my mouth to respond, but he cuts me off.
“What if you had walked in on something… private… just now,” he says, his eyes narrowing at the mention of the word private.
My brain drops straight to the gutter, imagining him. And me. Doing private things.
Stop it, Makenna. The guy’s an asshole.
“Are you serious?” My words reflect the disgust I feel inside, as I suddenly recall the women who wait at the bar—the women Jaxon said wait there for Cal. “You bring those women here? To your father’s office?” I know it’s none of my business what he does or where he chooses to do it, but he opened that can of worms with his cocky little play on words.
His eyes flicker at my revelation, like the thought excites him. Then just as suddenly as it appeared, it’s gone. “Does that make you angry? Or jealous?” he asks with a smirk.
Why is he even in here? Where is Carlos?
I’m not even going to entertain his arrogance with a response. “Well I’d love to say it’s been a pleasure, but as usual…” I say with a shrug then turn to walk back out the door. I need to get back to Jaxon, back to someone decent and normal.
“Stop,” Cal says, and the wires between my brain and my body get crossed. Even though my mind wants to defy him, my feet refuse to move. “Close the door.”
As much as I try to deny it, I turn and quietly close the door behind me… because I want to. It’s like I’m trapped inside my own body, controlled by the mere sound of his voice.
“Come here,” he says with a quiet confidence I can’t seem to ignore.
My mind screams, Screw you. You’re not the boss of me. But my body screams, Please, pleeeease be the boss of me.
My body wins.
Stupid body.
I inch carefully forward until I’m standing directly in front of him, the only thing separating us is his father’s desk. He shakes his head slowly, locking his gaze with mine.
“Not there.” He softly taps the wooden surface right in front of him. “Here.”
I hesitate a moment, and his gaze intensifies. For a split second I think I may have actually mustered up the will to challenge him, but it was a false alarm. He has me completely under his spell. Nothing in my life has ever held as much power over me as this man has right now. I’m rendered helpless.
I move around the desk and stand in front of him, my body just inches from where he sits.
Right about now part of me is wishing I’d just thrown on some nursing scrubs. There’s a whole lot of flesh and not a lot of space between me and him. Then again, part of me relishes in the fact that he is blatantly appreciating my decision to wear this dress. I call it a dress. It’s more like an oversized men’s dress shirt made of silky fabric with a tiny string tied around the waist.
“Private has a variety of meanings,” he says, his eyes falling to my breasts. “I wasn’t talking about other women. That was your assumption.” He reaches forward and unties the string belt attached to my waist. He watches me as I inhale a sharp breath but do nothing to protest. I couldn’t even if I wanted to, and the crazy thing is, I don’t want to.
I’m paralyzed. Mesmerized. Every ounce of common sense I have is screaming at the top of its lungs, What the hell, Makenna? You don’t even know this man. But common sense is overruled by hormones.
I know what’s about to happen.
