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Common sense.
“That didn't work so well last time, did it?” I point out, my heart plummeting.
“Okay, so we learn from our mistakes and do it better this time.”
I flop back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, knowing she won't like what she's about to hear. Unfortunately, part of being a good friend is telling your friends the things they don't want to admit themselves. “Nobody ever gets anywhere by running away. In the end, your problems catch up to you, and nine times out of ten, they’re worse than they originally were.”
“But—”
“No,” I whisper. “We can't run, Tatum. Not this time. I'm tired of running away—I mean, I ran here, and look what good that’s done. I'm trapped all over again. I can't keep jumping out a window because the room's on fire without knowing where I will land. I need to stop reacting and start being proactive. There will be no more running away.”
“So, what do we do?”
I hate it, but there’s only one solution. “I think it's time for both of us to stand our ground and work our problems out. I think it’s time we face these things head-on.”
“I don’t like the sound of that. My idea sounded better. Yours sound much more rational.”
I laugh into the phone. Tatum’s always had a way of breaking the ice. “That’s because it is. Pull on your big girl panties. It’s time for us to take back control.”
CALLUM
Anyone watching me as I sit behind my desk, scanning emails, would imagine I’m present. Working, focused, and managing my empire. In other words, they would never think I’m fantasizing about a particular young woman who owns my every thought, dream, and breath.
There are times when my thoughts of Bianca are so vivid I would swear she was here in the room with me. I can smell her perfume, as if she’s walking past me. Light and fresh, so powerful I can almost believe I can be young and fresh, too. Like she has the power to wipe away the ugliness and darkness surrounding me.
I shouldn’t have touched her, tasted her while she was here, on my desk. For now I can't get the image out of my head. All I can see is the arousal that gushed from her, pooling beneath her ass, her writhing and moaning. She was helpless to my touch.
My dick is so hard it aches. So fuckin hard, I have no choice but to run my hand over the straining bulge and consider taking it out to elevate the pain. I rarely give in to temptation in the middle of the day, not when Romero or anybody else could come walking through the door, but if I don't find a way to release the tension, I’m going to explode.
What I wouldn't give to hear her whisper my name while I undo her with every sweep of my tongue. While every pump of my slick fingers makes her muscles flutter and tighten… I’m barely able to stifle a groan of mixed desire and discomfort. It’ll snap in half if it gets much harder.
The ringing of the desk phone shakes me out of it enough to identify the double ring that makes it an internal call. The words Front Gate flash across the narrow ID screen before I pick up the receiver. “Henry? What’s the matter?”
“There’s police on the way up to the house.”
Looks like a painful erection is the least of my worries. I jump from the chair and carry the phone to the window, expecting cruisers and flashing lights to be trailing up the driveway. Instead, all I find careening up the winding road is a single, dark blue Acura.
When a pair of my guards hold up their hands, signaling for the driver to stop or at least slow down, they have no choice except to jump out of the way as the car barrels past them. Fuck. I grit my teeth and slam the phone into the cradle. Marching into the hall, I let out a sharp whistle to signal for Romero to follow. He has to jog to catch up to me, his footfalls echoing loudly on the polished wood.
“What’s going on?”
“Trouble.” I round the corner into the entry hall. The front door is directly ahead of us. Voices carry from the outside, with one belligerent voice rising above the others. It’s male, and he’s full of rage. I clench my hands into tight fists. What idiot would be dumb enough to show up here screaming obscenities?
“Are you sure you should go out there?” Romero asks when I touch the doorknob, his voice bordering on concern.
“Yes, however be on the lookout. This is my house, and I won’t stay inside to hide from some asshole trying to ambush us.” Nobody in an Acura is going to get the jump on my men. There's a reason I pay them like I do—besides, if the guy were really that dangerous, they would have already taken him down.
