She bent down and started sorting through the clothes, tossing his into a pile near his feet. Standing, she turned her back to him and stepped into her panties, hastily tugging them up her legs. When she slipped into the bra, Cal secured the hooks for her.
“I’d have kept you safe,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll always keep you safe. Do you understand?”
She didn’t believe him. Cal was a cut above every other man she’d dated, but she didn’t trust him. As soon as she’d start to rely on him, have feelings for him, he’d leave.
You’re supposed to be in control this time, Campbell. Cal hadn’t twisted her arm in there. Monica had been willing to take the risk. But instead of feeling empowered, she felt like she was speeding downhill without any brakes. Crashing was a foregone conclusion.
Chapter 15
Cal felt an overwhelming need to reassure her—and he meant every bloody word. He wouldn’t let any harm come to Monica Campbell, not if it were in his power to prevent it.
Twirling her around by one shoulder, Cal placed a hand on her lower back and yanked her closer. A lock of her hair bounced against his chest, giving off just the barest hint of lavender. Before Cal could stop himself, he plunged his free hand through the intermixed shades of honey and golden-brown, gripping it tight at her scalp.
Staring down into her beautiful, troubled face, he looked her dead in the eye. “I wouldn’t have let anyone see you. Do you believe me?” Monica’s light blue eyes grew wide, and Cal forced himself to loosen the grasp on her hair. Why was he behaving this way, like a lunatic? “Do you believe me?” he demanded.
After a moment’s hesitation, she lifted one shoulder. “It doesn’t matter—I shouldn’t have done it.”
Of course she should have. She’d been in the moment—she’d smiled and teased him and enjoyed herself. And he was right there with her, every bloody step of the way. This was the Monica she was meant to be—a risk taker, a woman who enjoyed wild, uninhibited sex. But he couldn’t convince her of that. Not right now. She had a bad habit of fucking him stupid, only to regret it moments later. Her postcoital remorse was hell on his ego.
Cal dropped his hands with a sigh. “Come on, love. Let’s get you dressed.” He plucked her shirt from the floor and held it open for her. Giving him one last worried glance, she shoved her arms into it, hastily rebuttoning and covering up that gorgeous red bra.
No doubt about it¸ Cal was a derrière man, but Monica’s tits were stunners. Her rosy nipples—big and luscious as cherries—made his mouth water.
“Are you going to get dressed?” She nodded at him as she slipped into her shoes.
“I’m pondering. I look so good naked, I should bless the world and walk around like this all the time, don’t you agree?”
She gave him an exasperated look and grabbed the skirt from his hand. “Seriously, you have an ego problem.”
“I was just thinking the same thing.”
Her words may be chastising, but he could hear the amusement in her voice, though she averted her face to hide any evidence of it. He liked that he could make her laugh. He’d definitely made her smile in that office a few minutes ago.
When she’d knelt down in front of him, right before she’d taken him in her mouth, Monica had given Cal the sauciest grin. Then she’d taken command of his prick, stroking and licking. Hell, he was getting hard all over again.
Telling his cock to behave itself, Cal pulled on his clothes and stuck his feet into the tasseled loafers. He’d asked Mr. Lawson to fetch him some shoes from one of the shops. Cal didn’t care what they looked like; he simply wanted Monica to see him in something other than shoddy boots. Now he felt faintly ridiculous.
He glanced up. Monica had caught him staring. “Tassels are for wankers, aren’t they?” he asked.
“No. You look very nice.” She lowered her eyes, almost as if she were embarrassed to give him a compliment. Then Monica opened her office door and scurried to her desk, where she gathered together all of her work gadgets.
“Hungry?” he asked, propping his shoulder against the door frame.
“Cal, I’m just going to call it a night and go home.” She was running scared—afraid of him. Afraid of herself.
“I understand. Sex with me can be exhausting. You’re most likely done in, poor pet.”
She threw him a warning glance. “I need to work.”
“Of course, and it has nothing to do with that fact that you let down your proverbial hair? You’ve had your fun, and now it’s time for self-flagellation.”
She kept her eyes down as she shoved folders into her bag. “I have board meeting drama, and the gala’s six weeks away.”
“So naturally, you won’t eat until then.”
Heaving a sigh, she finally looked at him. “Do you ever shut up?”
“Occasionally. But only when I’m sleeping or eating pussy.” He smiled at her gasp, whipped out his phone, and put a call in to Mr. Lawson. “We’ll be arriving in half an hour. Have dinner waiting on the terrace, will you?” When he hung up, Monica looked at him with raised brows. As she hefted the bag onto her shoulder, Cal walked forward and took it from her. “I told you I made plans. Dinner will be waiting for us. You’ll love it.”
She left her office and walked next to him through the short hallway. “You really think you’ve got me figured out, don’t you?” At the suite door, she flipped off the lights, leaving them momentarily in the dark.
“Not completely, but I’m learning as I go. By the way, just to give you fair warning, I plan on fucking you again tonight. But I’ll taste you first.” Then he opened the outer office door and allowed Monica to pass through.
“Just to give you fair warning, I’m going home after dinner,” she said, locking up with a snap of her wrist.
Cal said nothing as he trailed her to the lift. He didn’t look at her either, but kept his eyes trained on the arrows above the doors.
“And what’s a taste, anyway?” she asked. “A taste sounds very brief.”
“Would you like me to explain in further detail?”
“No.”
He waited.
“Maybe.”
The doors opened, and they climbed on. Monica pressed the L button and clutched her purse in front of her. Cal’s eyes kept straying to her, taking in her mussed hair, her swollen lips.
“Yes,” she said. “Explain.”
“In this scenario, we’ll both be naked, of course.”
“You seem to prefer it, being God’s gift and all.”
“Quite. I’ll use my hand first, to make sure you’re wet. Once you’re ready, I’ll slide one finger inside you. I’ll work up to three, but it’s a process. Then I’ll lick your outer pussy lips. You’ll be begging me by then, but I won’t let you come, not yet. Not until I’ve parted you and licked you like a ripe peach. Eventually, I’ll nibble your adorable little love button until you go wild. That’s my idea of tasting. You probably thought I meant sampling.”
Monica’s cheeks were pink now, her eyes bright. Her chest rose and fell at a rapid rate. “Love button?” she said, sounding out of breath.
“Would you prefer joy buzzer?” He grinned as she rolled her eyes. He nearly groaned when she licked her upper lip. Though she would probably deny it, she enjoyed their banter as much as he did.
The bell dinged, and the doors slid open. They walked in silence to the parking lot. “I’ll follow you in my car,” she said.
“Oh, what a shame. I was going to let you drive the Mustang again.”
She hesitated. “Give me the keys.”
Cal pulled them from his pocket and dropped them into her hand. He still wasn’t comfortable letting someone else take the wheel, but tempting Monica was worth it.
She climbed in the car and started the engine. “Just out of curiosity”—she gazed at him from the corner of her eye—“what’s your idea of sampling?”