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“I’m going for a Brazilian.”
“What day?” And just like that, he turns boyish. Almost giddy. “I’ll take the day off and fly in—”
“Let’s go on our date, and if you behave, I’ll tell you before bed.
“Fucking trouble,” Callum grumbles before kissing me. One arm wrapped around my waist, the other now cradling my neck, he slants his mouth over mine in a needy and possessive kiss. I taste the whiskey he’s been drinking with a hint of cigar from when Javier pulled him outside earlier tonight. I taste him, that uniqueness that makes me weak in the knees, my lips moving as eagerly against his onslaught.
This man owns me. Knows it.
“Do we need this date?” I nip his bottom lip harshly, and I love the way his eyes flash with fire, a warning I won’t heed. There’s something so sexy about a man who loses control and worships you until there’s nothing left but a satiated body and a sleepy grin. “We could—”
Abruptly, he releases his hold on me before taking a step back toward the opposite wall. The lack of physical contact sucks; I don’t like it and neither does Callum, as a second later he picks up my hand, sliding his thumb across my knuckles. “Spending this time with you is something I need, too. I miss you, Venus. I’m ready for you to come home, but I promised to be patient while you settle your affairs and now help Aurora.”
Could he be any more perfect? Those words mean more than any gift or orgasm. He wants me. To just be with me, and this time, I’m the one who kisses him. It’s quick and fast, my body pressing against his on the wall, but before his arms cage me in, I pull back.
“I’m ready to leave, too.” I place a tiny kiss to his chin, and then Adam’s apple. “This is just until London gets back, or Aurora decides that she’s staying after all.”
“Because they fixed their shit?” Voice hoarse and hair a little disheveled, he’s the epitome of sex and the promise of depravity.
“Yes.”
“Let’s hope.”
“Now, that date?”
“You cheeky little thing, you.” Callum winks before turning to walk away, giving my hand still in his a small tug. I follow him out the small hallway and out to the quiet lobby where a guest or two still lingers, but we don’t stop to talk to anyone. Instead, we make it to the car and after making sure I’m in, he walks to his side and slides in behind the wheel.
I don’t know where we’re going as he peels out.
I also find myself not caring.
As I study his profile in the dim lighting and the city zooms by my window, I realize something:
This is a man I’d follow to the ends of the earth. This goes beyond fun or love. We are much deeper than that. The tether that keeps us together vibrates between us; I can almost physically feel it, and it’s not something I’m going to give up for anyone.
I need to tell Aurora. I need to move to London.
“Sweetheart,” I hear his voice, but it’s not coming from the side he slept on last night. No. This is a few inches from my face, and it’s confirmed when he caresses my cheek. “I need you to wake up for a minute or two, please.”
I whimper but do as he asks while pouting. A pout he nips at. “Where are you going?”
Callum is dressed, albeit casually, but it’s late out. Then it dawns on me; this is business, and I sit up, almost knocking into his forehead. “Is everything okay?”
“It is, love. I’m just meeting with Casper and Aurora at a hotel nearby.”
Shifting my eyes to my bedside clock, I take in the time and look back at him with a raised brow. “You do realize it’s a little after two in the morning, right? Most people are sleeping at this time.”
We came home about two hours ago after spending most of the night on a private yacht cruising slowly out of Navy Pier. Lake Michigan is cool at night most days, but today the slight chill was pleasant, especially when Callum kept me close. We sat at the back of the boat with a blanket and a pint of ice cream, talking and joking. Extravagant but simple. Perfect for us.
Best date to date, and I don’t know how he’ll ever top it.
No one around. No guards or interruptions.
I find myself liking his version of spoiling quite a bit.
“Not for a criminal.” At his words, I snap out of my memory fog and glare. “Relax, tiger. I’m just stating a fact.”
“Don’t call yourself that.” Accurate or not, I hate the title. I view him more as a loving man, my man who has a short leash on his temper when his family is wronged. When it comes to my safety.
