Canada Square (Love in London #3) (17 page)

“I've thought about you every night.”

He groans. “Don't say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it makes me want to strip every single piece of clothing off your body.”

I look up at him, unsmiling. “And that's wrong, because...”

He blinks twice, as if he's trying to work me out. “Because.” His voice is strangled, disappearing into nothing as his mouth crashes to mine again.

I fall back against the wall, the cool bricks scratching me through my clothes as he digs his fingers into my waist. They burrow beneath my shirt as he kisses me frantically. He's hard, and I grind a little, enough to feel him gasp into my mouth.

I hitch a leg around his hip. He grabs my calf, fingers tracing a line of fire past my knee and inside my thigh, before he thrusts against my core.

The next moment he lifts me higher, until both my legs are wrapped around his waist. He takes my weight in his hands, the added height letting him press exactly where I want him.

Callum runs his lips down my exposed neck, nipping and kissing his way to the dip at the base of my throat. The sensation spears straight through me, forcing a moan from my lips as he pins me to the wall.

I feel a strange mixture of vulnerability and safety. He drops his head onto my shoulder, nose pressed into my throat. I feel his breath on me, hot and harsh, and it brings goose bumps out on my skin. Then he's kissing me again, more gently than before, his lips tender and soft. It makes me ache from the inside out, my body pulsing with need.

Slowly, he pulls my legs from his hips, lowering me to the ground. His fingers are still stroking my thighs.

“I should take you home,” he whispers, kissing the sensitive spot between my throat and my ear.

“Yes,” I murmur breathlessly.

“To
my
home.”

“Yes.”

17

“This is me,” Callum says between kisses. He slides a key into the lock. The front door is as smart as the rest of the house—as the street—perfectly painted in a glossy black.

“Nice.” I nip at his bottom lip. He pulls me against him until I feel him harden through his trousers. My breath hitches with desire.

“Mmhmm.” The door opens, and we half-tumble inside. My heels click against the polished hardwood floor, and for a moment I wonder if I should take them off. But I'm so short in my bare feet that I'll end up with my face in his chest and I'm not ready for that. Yet.

Callum hooks his hands beneath my jacket, sliding it off my shoulders. It falls to the floor in a pool of black fabric, and I step over it as he pushes me along the hallway. His fingers brush my bare shoulders, rough and demanding against my sensitive skin. Then he scoops the hair away from my neck, holding it in his fist, and presses his lips against my throat.

I might moan. A lot. He's finding sensitive spots I didn’t realise existed, laying claim to them one by one. Every kiss is a brand on my skin, staking his ownership, and the sensation is overwhelming.

“So fucking beautiful.” His mouth reaches my shoulder. “Every inch of you.”

I swallow hard as his lips brush down to my clavicle. He reaches behind me, fingers finding my zip and tugging. That's when nervousness overtakes me, as I realise we're really doing this thing. That I'm going to get naked in front of my ex-boss.

My spine stiffens as soon as I think about it. He's going to see everything; the way my right hip curves much more than my left, the way my shoulder is off-centre, making me lopsided. His hands freeze halfway down my back.

“Are you okay?”

Blood pools beneath my cheeks. I nod, but say nothing. He cups the back of my head, his voice as soft as his eyes.

“Do you want to stop? You only have to say the word...”

Disappointment floods through my veins. “Do you want to stop?”

He steps backwards, and I immediately miss his proximity.

“Hell no, babe. But if you're not ready for this, there's no way I'm going to force you.” Moonlight floods in from the window next to him, illuminating his face. He looks worried, vulnerable, and his hesitation is enough to give me strength.

“I don't want to stop,” I tell him, taking a deep breath. “But I'm...I'm embarrassed to let you see my body. I'm not perfect and you're going to see that.”

He frowns, eyes scanning from my face right down to my legs. “What do you mean 'not perfect'? You're fucking gorgeous.”

“I've got a curved spine. I lean to the left a bit. I'm not symmetrical.”

The smallest of smiles shapes his mouth. “Not symmetrical?”

“One side of me is curvier than the other.”

He reaches out and traces my side, running from the edge of my breast to my waist. “Symmetrical is pretty fucking overrated.”

He kisses me again, his hands pushing into my hair as he angles my head, his tongue dipping and sliding into my mouth. Then he lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me down the hallway. If he wasn't so big and I wasn't so light, it might be a disaster. But as it is, his strength is a turn on, and I kiss him back just as hard.

He kicks open the door to his bedroom before walking across the cream rug and laying me down on his bed. The covers are fresh and soft, and they fluff around me as I hit the mattress.

“Nobody's perfect, sweetheart.” He pulls his tie off, then deftly unbuttons his shirt, pulling it open to expose his chest. He shrugs it off and he's naked from the waist up. He has the strength of an athlete, his pale skin defined by the thick muscles beneath. His chest is covered by a smattering of light brown hair that leads down to his navel, before sharpening into a line. He stands there, exposed and vulnerable, and all I want to do is touch him. So I scramble to my knees and crawl across the mattress until I reach the edge, then get down and stand next to him.

“Sit down,” I say, my voice thick with need. I push him down, his shoulder flexing beneath my palm. Reaching behind me, I pull the zip the rest of the way until my dress is gaping open at the back. Then I slide it down, past my hips, past my thighs, and step out of it.

I'm naked save for my bra and panties. Callum stares at me from the edge of the bed, his eyes sweeping every inch of my body. The tip of his tongue pokes out to moisten his dry lips, his breath ragged. My need for him escapes from every pore.

“I lied. You
are
perfect.” He doesn't take his eyes off me.

I shake my head. “That's not what Luke says.”

He swallows, the action making his throat bob. “There are two things you need to know about me, sweetheart. The first is I don't lie.” He reaches out and runs his finger across my hip. “And the second is you really shouldn't mention your ex-boyfriend when you're half naked in my bedroom.” He smiles at the last part, making me giggle. I move forward and straddle him on the bed, my bare legs on either side of his suit-clad thighs.

Callum wraps his hands around my hips, pulling me down until my panties slide against his cock. He's hot and hard and makes my toes curl in delight, my body grinding against his. He reaches behind me to unclasp my bra and my breasts spill out, the cool air making my nipples pebble before he cups them.

“Exquisite.” He rubs his thumbs across them, making pleasure spit and spark in my belly. “Flawless, beautiful.” Callum captures my nipple between his lips, teeth grazing, tongue bathing.

The air catches in my throat, straining my voice. “Did you eat a dictionary?”

His lips curl around me, and I can feel his smile. “It's not a dictionary I want to eat.”

“No?”

“No.”

He leans back until he's flat on the bed, and I follow him, my body on top of his. He tugs me up until we're aligned, his chest pressed to mine, his dick hard against me. Just a gentle roll of his hips is enough to make me gasp, and I realise how excited I am. Every cell in my body is buzzing with desire, and the need to
really
feel him is tugging at me.

He kisses me, grabbing my arse as he grinds against me again. Then his fingers slip inside my panties, trailing down until they reach the hot, ready part of me that's begging for his touch.

“You're wet,” he whispers. “So fucking wet.” He slides a finger inside me, and I nearly jump with how good it feels.

Desperate, I fumble at his belt, sliding it open and unbuttoning his trousers. I press my hand inside, beneath his boxers.

His hips buck at my touch. He's hot in my palm, soft skin stretched across his hard thickness, and it throbs against me. I drag my hand along him, making him gasp, the sound making the pulse between my legs crescendo.

Callum shuffles out of his trousers and shorts, lying naked beneath me, and I can't tear my eyes away. Taut, toned and masculine, he makes me feel tiny and petite.

“Beautiful.” I press my lips to his chest, my fingers still wrapped around him. Dragging my teeth against his nipple, I smile as I feel him react, his heart hammering against his chest.

“These need to come off,” he mutters, pulling at my panties. They catch on my hips and he lets out a frustrated growl, before I get to my knees and shimmy out of them.

“A real man would have torn them off,” I tease.

“I like them too much for that.” He seems to have a thing for my throat, spending long minutes nipping and licking before he moves down to my breasts.

Then he's flipping me over so I'm on my back, his body tensing above me, muscles taut and defined. His hips lower until he's brushing against me, and like a reflex action, I open my legs.

He fits perfectly.

I wrap my thighs around him, squeezing my eyes shut as I feel him come even closer. He stills, reaching for his trouser pocket and grabbing a condom from his wallet.

There’s a tear as he extracts the latex, and I quietly watch him roll on the condom. Then he's lying on me, skin to skin, and I'm aching from the inside out.

“Callum,” I whisper. He flexes his arse, dimpling beneath my palms, and the movement sends shots of delight through my body.

“Mmm?” he mumbles into my throat.

“Please...” I'm almost too sensitive. Raw and exposed beneath this hulk of a man. I'm aching for him to fill me, needy for his touch, my body arching and circling. He flexes again, hips pressed to mine, and I can feel him nudging against me. The next moment he's inside me, all of him. Any thoughts in my mind are replaced by the primal need to be taken. When he pulls out, the emptiness makes me sigh, and I look up for reassurance. There's something indecipherable in his eyes, something deep and expressive that I'm trying to decode, but then he pushes again and I'm all sensation and desire.

* * *

An hour later I'm laying on my side, my head nestled into the crook of his arm. I can feel the insistent beat of his heart beneath my cheek and the thin sheen of perspiration that's coating his skin. He breathes in, his chest expanding, and I snuggle in closer, inhaling him.

“Are you okay?” He kisses the top of my head.

“Mmm.” I'm anaesthetised by pleasure, my whole body leaden. My eyes are closed and I'm more relaxed than I've been in a long time. As if I'm safe here.

I don't want the feeling to end.

“I'm sorry if I hurt you,” he says. There's a tone of regret in his voice that makes me look at him in alarm.

“You didn't hurt me. That was... that was... amazing.”

He laughs. “I didn't mean that, although thank you for the compliment. I meant earlier, outside the pub.”

I shift in his arms, resting my chin on his chest. We're looking right into each other's eyes. “You didn't hurt me, well not much. I was shocked more than anything.” I frown. “I understand why you were so upset when you saw the coke.”

Callum closes his eyes, and I miss the green. “I've seen what drugs can do.”

I stare at him, seeing the pain in his face. “You mean what they did to your wife?”

He won't look at me, and I hate the lack of connection.

“She died too young, and it was avoidable and I—” His voice cracks. “I hate the thought of you risking yourself like that.”

“I've never taken coke. I think I've had a smoke of something twice. I'm not like that.”

“I know,” he says, his voice low. “And that's why I'm sorry. I shouldn't have accused you of that.”

“It's okay.” I let my head drop again. The need to feel his skin against mine is too compelling. I could get used to this feeling.

We lay there for a while, and I think about his wife. There's a twinge of jealousy when I remember how happy he looked in his wedding photo. I feel like an interloper, a magpie. Stealing shiny baubles from somebody else’s nest.

This shouldn't have happened. I shouldn't be here in my ex-boss's bed. I shouldn't be aching whenever he touches me. The intense happiness of a few moments ago dissolves, replaced by the nagging fear that I've done something spectacularly naïve.

Whatever happened to get my degree, get a job and get the hell away from home? I seem to have forsaken it at the first flash of bicep, and my traitorous body is still humming in contentment at that trade.

My mind, though, is reeling.

“Hey, I lost you for a minute.” Callum tightens his arms around me. I can feel the knots of his muscles pushing into my skin. “What's going on in there?” He brushes his lips against my temple.

It feels good.
Too good
. I'm aware that if I give in to the fog of comfort that wants to envelope me, everything will be lost. How can this be anything more than a fling to him? I'm an intern, ten years younger, and with a hell of a lot to lose. If anybody ever found out...

“I should go home.” I sit up, all too aware of my nudity. My clothes are scattered on his shiny wooden floor. Like Callum, his bedroom is intensely masculine, dark woods and grey linen, the art colourful against the stark white of his walls. I feel awkward and out of place here, so I clamber to my knees in an effort to escape.

“Come here,” Callum croons, as if reassuring a frightened animal. He wraps his arms around my waist, and it takes every ounce of my strength not to melt into his body. “What happened here? We had a good time didn't we?” He frowns. “You did come, right?”

Blushing, I remember the three amazing orgasms he gave me. “It's not that.”

“Then what is it?”

I brush the hair out of my face. Callum is frowning at me, two vertical lines furrowed between his eyebrows. I reach out to smooth them away, but pull back as if I've been burned.

Maybe I have.

“This can't happen.” I gesture between the two of us. “We can't do this.”

In spite of my protestations, he gathers me into his embrace. “I've got news for you, sweetheart, it just did.”

“I know,” I wail. “And it shouldn't have. I almost work for you, you should be giving me orders, not orgasms.”

He smirks, and it's sexy enough to make me want to slap him. “I can give you both, if that's what you're into.”

An image of Callum standing over me naked, and barking out demands, flashes through my mind. “I'm not into that.” It's a complete lie. I could be
so
into that. I could be into anything he wants. But I shouldn't be, and the whole damn thing is so confusing. “I should go.”