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“Fuck, just let me…”
Before she could say anything else, I lifted her off her feet. Despite her protests from a moment ago, her legs wrapped around my waist instinctively, and my hands snaked up her impossibly tight skirt, shoving it out of the way as best I could, resisting the urge to tear it open at that little slit in the back for better access. I palmed a handful of her backside, groaning at the perfection of it, at the sheer bliss of having her in my arms like this again.
“Cal.” This time, my name was a gasp, and I’d forever be playing it on a loop while I palmed myself in the shower, thinking about her and this incredible ass of hers. How would it feel to slide my cock between those cheeks?
Our mouths once again collided in a sloppy, wet, messy kiss. I couldn’t get close enough, and neither could she if the way she tugged on my hair and ground against me was any indication. A low moan escaped her.
It was so good, too much and not enough all at once.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” I said, my voice low and husky. God, it should scare me how much I meant that.
I shifted my hips a bit, searching out the warmth between Amara’s legs, and she stiffened a little in my arms.
“Right there, huh?” I asked, pulling the collar of my shirt out away from her throat and shoulder to suck the skin of her neck into my mouth, scraping my teeth over the spot.
I expected Amara to respond in kind, to let me fuck her, touch her…anything.
Instead, she shoved me away and dropped her feet to the floor. When she was steady, she righted her skirt, shrugged out of my shirt, and whipped it at my face.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked as she stalked off.
“I can’t do this with you,” she responded when she reached the foot of the stairs. “It’s too much at once. I—I need some time.”
Before I could protest, Amara disappeared up the stairs.
I remained rooted to the spot, blinking slowly. Knowing I needed to get out of here but unable to move thanks to the whiplash Amara had just dealt.
At last, my body caught up with my mind. I adjusted my dick, stuffing the tip into the waistband of my pants, the pressure of which elicited a hiss from my lips that forced me to take several deep, calming breaths.
Fucking Amara Delatou.
Fucking Calvin Ryder.
I stomped up the stairs and pushed into the lobby, inhaling my first full breath since I’d stormed away from the table a half hour ago. The warmer air was a welcome balm to my frozen skin, and I rubbed my palms up and down my arms to further dispel the chill.
When I approached my parents, my mom must’ve seen how frazzled I looked, because she asked, “How’d that go?”
“Fine,” I clipped, then gathered my purse. “Sorry. I hate to cut this shorter than I already have, but I have meetings I’m going to be late for if I don’t get going.”
I bent and kissed each of my parents’ cheeks in turn, my dad murmuring that he loved me as I strode away.
My main objective was getting out of here before Calvin reappeared, and I power-walked through the lobby. I was nearly to the door that would take me back to the offices when someone shouted my name.
I whirled to find Brie striding toward me.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” she asked.
“I’ve got meetings I’m going to be late for,” I said. Not a lie, but not the whole truth, either, and Brie could see through me like I was three hundred-year-old paper.
She narrowed her hazel eyes—more green than gold, a trait she shared with both Chloe and Ella. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “I just…ugh. Fucking Ryder.”
Brie nodded sympathetically. “That explains the look on your face.”
“What look?”
“Like you want to murder someone.”
