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We don’t talk the rest of the way. With each turn the vehicle takes and the closer to her home we get, my body thrums. It’s a different kind of energy. Just as pleasurable as taking a life, but with the memory of her taste still lingering in my mind, I’m throbbing.
Hungry. Pulsing.
A heady feeling that almost compares to taking a life, and yet, this one is more. It’s everything.
The street where her townhome sits looms close, and I notice Giannis outside when I pull up. He doesn’t say anything when I exit, but simply nods and then gets into a vehicle with a man I recognize as his better half. They drive away, and Kray does the same.
I want no one around.
No interruptions.
There are twenty-four hours between this trip and my return to England, and I just want her.
I’m at her door before both cars turn right at the stop sign down the street, my fist pounding on her door. Five hard knocks, and nothing. No sound. But when I raise my fist once more, I hear that melodic voice.
“I’m coming!” my Venus yells, her feet stomping toward the door before yanking it open. “Giannis, for the love of God, I just want a quiet night and—” Aliana stops abruptly after I clear my throat. She’s in a cute romper set with a towel wrapped in her hair, a warm flush covering her peach scented skin, and staring at me with wide eyes and plush lips in the perfect shape of an “O.”
“I’ve missed you too, love.”
20
He’s here, and it feels like I can breathe again—like what’s been missing since he left has been returned and the world feels a little calmer. Safer. For me, at least.
I’ve been left to my own devices since he left, and I’ve wondered if he has something to do with it. Do they know about him? My family has been quiet; even Dad’s campaign manager has excused me from any of his recent events—a first, and I appreciate it heavily. He’s not in full-swing campaigning yet, just a brief base-run affair for the people who only care about money and the status quo.
Those men whose wives get younger every three years.
Those men that spend millions of taxpayer money to front their travel expenses and dirty secrets inside of hotel rooms.
Because I’ve seen things. Hear things.
My father has never hidden his cheating or how beneath him he feels the female species is.
“What are you—” I’m unable to finish as his lips meet mine and I find myself being pushed inside, the door slamming behind us. His groan reverberates through me like a sinful caress. His touch sears my skin, and I want to bleed for him.
But that’s what he does. I go from nothing to everything right before the floor is swept out from beneath my feet each time he’s near.
“I needed this,” he growls against my lips, body forcing mine deeper into my apartment. Callum doesn’t pause or say anything else. He’s on a mission, and I won’t stop him. Can’t, because it’s been obvious for the past few days that I’ve missed this too.
He’s deep under my skin.
Strong fingers grip the back of my towel and he pulls, forcing my newly cut strands to sweep across my shoulders. This makes him pause, and I become nervous when he closes his eyes and then buries his head in my neck. Does he hate it?
“Fuck, Aliana.” Callum’s groan brings goose bumps across my skin, the heat of his breath on my skin making me shiver. He’s breathing hard, holding me close while his lips sweep across softly. “I’m almost afraid to look, beautiful. I don’t think I’ll survive it.”
“It’ll grow back. A few months and it’ll be like…shit!” I yelp, suddenly airborne as he stalks toward the back of my house where my bedroom and bathroom are with my body over his shoulder. A warm hand holds me in place with a firm grip on the back of my bare thigh—squeezing and caressing between steps. “What are you doing?”
“Proving a point.” Callum doesn’t turn toward my room. Instead, he enters the large bathroom and sets me down in front of the vanity. I’m turned, our eyes meeting in the mirror while he runs his fingers down my slightly curled, dark locks. The strands are still humid, barely towel dry, and the look on his face is of a man transfixed—mesmerized.
“Beautiful.” Voice low and gravelly, Callum pushes one piece behind my ear and then twirls another. “How is it possible for one woman to be this stunning. I loved your long hair, my Venus, but this little shoulder length cut frames your face in the most sinful way. It’s fun and sweet, and the only thing I want to do is bend you over this sink and bury myself deep. So deep that you’ll spend the next few weeks feeling me every time you so much as inhale.”
“You like it?” It’s breathy, my body thrumming at his words.
“I fucking love.” Pressing his back against mine, he lets me feel just how much he does. How hard he is for me, and every cell in my body vibrates for him. “You look so sweet and tempting, Miss Rubens. Like the perfect little doll.”
“A doll?”
“Aye.” From behind, he kisses the crown of my head and then lower until placing his lips at my temple. “Every inch of you is perfection, Aliana. How can you ever question that?” Then, he inhales deep and groans, his hands gripping the edge of my sleep top before slowly lifting it up. My stomach is exposed, the soft cotton stopping just below my breasts. “Your curves are decadent, while your scent is enough to bring any man to his knees. So sweet.”
