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Please just come inside.
Unless he came over when I was in the bath. I never heard him, but then again, I wouldn’t have with the headphones in.
His fingers dig into the flesh on my hip. I think for a split second he might be thinking what I’m thinking. I want you. Then he releases me and takes a step back, so I can unlock the door. Well, shit. I hold it open once I’m inside, but he remains standing in the entryway.
“You’re really not going to come in?” I ask, not believing the extent of his stubbornness. Finally, I let out an exasperated huff and toss my phone onto the console table next to the door. I shrug my purse off my shoulder and let it fall to the ground with a thud. “Should I schedule an appointment? Maybe a few months from now? Isn’t that how it usually works with you?”
His eyes grow dark, and I know in my gut that I should be very careful of what I say or do next. But in my mind, I’ve done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve the way he’s acting right now. Unless it’s just another part of the game he claims he isn’t playing.
“I’m not doing this out here,” he says, his words sharp as a knife. Then he steps through the threshold and closes the door behind him. He scoots my purse out of the way with the side of his foot as he steadily stalks toward me until I’m backed against the wall. He locks me in place with a palm flat above my head. “You wanted me inside? Here I am.”
I look up at him, towering over me, challenging me to say something else. My heart beats so loudly the sound of it thunders in my ears.
“I don’t just want you inside. I want you. Can’t you see that?” Your thoughts, your anger, your body… Give it all to me.
“And I said that’s not a good idea.” His eyes are focused on something beside me, and I scramble to think of what it might be.
The picture.
I still have the picture of me and Reid hanging on the wall.
“Don’t tell me you’re intimidated by a picture.”
He’s been in my house before. He’s seen pictures of me and Reid. My comment was cheap and childish, and I regret it the moment it comes out of my mouth. Callisto is not Jaxon. He’s not intimidated by Reid or my memories of him. But the man is a brick wall. I have no way of knowing what he’s thinking or feeling. His face gives nothing away. So, if going with the low blow gets a reaction, any reaction, it will be worth it. And I think I may just have gotten more than I bargained for.
He lowers his head and looks me dead in the eye. The tip of his nose grazes my cheek as his mouth moves to the shell of my ear, the warmth of his breath brings the tiny hairs on the back of my neck to attention.
“I don’t have a problem with your pictures, Makenna. I will bend you over that sofa and fuck you face down, ass up, while you stare that fucking picture in the eye. What I will not do, though, is fuck you when I’m angry. And right now, I’m pretty goddamn angry.”
I forcefully swallow the painful lump in my throat. He hasn’t moved an inch, his breath sharp and short against my ear. My heart races. He’s angry… with me. And he should be. He came here because for some reason he was worried, and I threw Reid in his face.
I should apologize, but he’s left me speechless. His anger is possibly the single most intimidating and simultaneously sexy thing I have ever seen. But I don’t want him to be angry with me. I want to see his smile. I want to feel his touch. I want to tame this beast.
“Why? Why are you so mad?” I ask, finally.
“Who’s playing games now, Makenna?”
His dark eyes are now locked on mine, his mouth so close to my skin. I have to close my eyes to form a coherent thought. A gust of cool air greets my face when he moves his head back and stands up straight.
“I don’t answer the doorone time… because I don’t even know you’re here. And I’m playing games? You touched me. Then sent me on my way. You kissed me. Then didn’t show your face for weeks. I ignore the doorbell one time, Cal. One. Because I didn’t even hear it. How many times have you ignored me?”
“It’s not the same thing,” he says, his eyes never backing down from mine.
“You’re right, it’s not. Because I wasn’t doing it on purpose. You screwed with my head for months.”
“Did you ever stop to think I might have been worried about you? Or that I might have wanted to see you? That I might have waited at the restaurant thinking you’d come see me the way you used to go see that piece of shit bartender? For fuck’s sake, Makenna. I thought something had happened to you.”
“I’m sorry if you were worried. What are you talking about? Nothing’s going to happen to me. And I didn’t know what you would want. I don’t know how this works with you, how you normally do these things. I didn’t know what to think at all. I wanted to see you, too. I wanted to go to the restaurant. I would’ve been there tonight if you hadn’t come here. I just needed a minute.”
He takes his hand off the wall and steps back as if I’d pushed him away. “You needed a minute?”
“Just to process. Not to reconsider,” I explain. I take a step toward him, and he takes a step back. “Callisto,” I say, not sure where to go next.
He flinches at my use of his full name. This is the first time I’ve actually said it out loud, to his face. It’s beautiful, just like it’s meaning says, just like him. I would use it all the time if I thought he’d let me. My heart is pounding while I wait for his reaction.
He swallows hard, then lets out a sharp breath. “Then you never should have let me fuck you. I told you that night there would be no going back.”
He doesn’t mention the name, so I don’t dwell on it. We have more important things to discuss. Like the fact that he’s reading this wrong. A statement meant to clarify things only made them worse. I don’t know what else to do. He thinks I was ignoring him. On purpose. He thinks it meant nothing to me. He has to know by now that I’m not like that. It meant everything to me. I’m not like them. The comparison pisses me off.
