The bad news was that a lot of the bastards who’d hired him for his little “pay to rape” business were trust-fund babies and their daddies and lawyers were going to have a field day with this.
But her unrest had nothing to do with the job.
She suspected it had everything to do with the man behind her.
Bracing a hand against her temple, she blocked out everything and reached for that inner calm. Calm…she needed it. Once she had calm, she could handle anything.
Dimly, she was aware of him.
Felt his pain.
Felt his resignation.
Resignation—
Turning around, she saw that he’d left the sitting area. Swallowing, she moved to the doorway of his room and saw that he was packing.
No. Not yet.
Slipping into the room, she moved to stand behind him. He paused in the middle of folding a shirt, but then went right back to it.
Stroking a hand down his back, she leaned in and pressed her mouth to him. He went still.
“Destin. What are you doing?”
Slipping her hands under the hem of the polo he wore, she said, “Give me a minute, and you’ll figure it out.”
She started to strip the shirt away, but he stopped her, spinning around to catch her wrists when she would have reached for him. “Stop it,” he growled. “The job is done, so we’re done. I’m leaving, okay?”
“Just like that?” She stared at him. “A few hours ago, you were telling me that there was only one person you’d give up everything for…I thought it was me. Is it?”
He jerked her against him, one hand molding to the back of her skull. Then, as his mouth came down on hers, he stole her breath away. There was nothing gentle to it. His teeth nipped her lower lip, demanding entrance, and even when she opened for him, he wasn’t done making demands. His tongue drove into her mouth, darting and teasing and tasting, while his free hand streaked down to cup her hip in his hand and pull her lower body against him.
Hard, rough and breathless…that was what this was. And then it was over.
When he lifted his head, dark brown eyes glittered at her. “Do you think there’s anybody else for me?” he all but snarled.
Always so controlled, Caleb. But not now. His control had shattered and fallen to shreds around him, it looked like.
Harsh hunger stamped his face but his hand was gentle as he stroked it up her back, along her shoulders to rest it on her neck, his fingers splayed wide. “You’re inside my skin, in my dreams, in my soul…just where you’ve been for the past eight years. Even when I walked away, you were there. I had to cut you out of me to keep this connection from killing us. I…” Then he stopped, shaking his head.
As he untangled their bodies, Destin stared at him. Her head was pounding, her heart racing from his words. And she ached. Physically, emotionally, mentally. He made her ache, hunger, want.
“You need to let me finish packing,” he said quietly. He brushed his thumb over her lip and then moved away. “If you want a chance in hell of walking out of this now, just…”
He shook his head and turned away.
A chance in hell…
No. She didn’t want that at all.
As he turned his back on her once more, she closed her eyes and thought about the time five years ago when she’d watched him walking away from her. If she’d reached out…
No. No looking back, she told herself. It was too late for that and the past five years, if nothing else, had made them both stronger. They’d need to be if they were going to handle what happened between them.
But she’d be damned if she let him walk away this time.
On silent feet, she moved up behind him again as he reached inside the bureau. He caught sight of her in the mirror and she watched as a muscle bunched in his jaw, saw the way his eyes flashed hot and wild before that familiar, cool shutter fell back into place.
Then as she laid her hands on his back and smoothed them down, his lids drooped down low. “You didn’t hear me.”
“Oh, I heard you.” She leaned in and pressed her lips to his back, felt the tremor race through him. She did that. She could make this man, this cool, controlled, contained man tremble for her. Smoothing her hands down his back, she slid them under the hem of his shirt again, resting them on his sides. “But you said if I wanted a chance in hell…”
Rising up on her toes, she pressed her lips to his ear and said, “The only chance I want is with you. I don’t care if it’s in hell. If it’s in heaven. I just want what I thought we lost five years ago.”
As her lips brushed against his ear, thought sputtered and died.
Or maybe he’d just lost his mind. That was a more likely option. It would explain why he thought Destin had just said she wanted a chance with him. But she’d pushed him out earlier, hadn’t she?
Her hands, though, were stripping his shirt away and…fuck.
As his shirt fell to the floor, she leaned in and pressed her lips to the ruin of his chest and he swore, his voice a low, ragged snarl as he caught her head in his hands. “Destin, what in the hell is this?”
“Our chance,” she said quietly, looking up at him. “It’s the one we need to take…now.”
“But you cut me out earlier,” he said, shaking his head.
“I didn’t cut you out.” Her face softened. “That wasn’t the time…or the place. This…thing…we have between us, as deep as it runs, we still need to have time inside our own heads, inside our skin, don’t we? But Caleb, I didn’t cut you out. I was just waiting until we had our time.”
He searched her face, hoping he understood, hoping he hadn’t lost his mind. But not quite ready to believe that.
As she reached for him again, he swore and spun around. Catching her hands, he pinned them over her head, glaring down at her. “Stop it,” he snapped. “Just…” He closed his eyes and dropped his head to her shoulder. “Just let me think.”
“Do you always try to think when women are seducing you?”
Turning his head to her neck, he skimmed his lips up the soft curve. “Beats the hell out of me…I’m out of practice. Other than last night, it’s been five years. I can’t remember what in the hell I’m supposed to do.”
She stiffened. “Five…”
He heard her breathing catch and he lifted his head to stare down at her, watched as her lashes fluttered over her eyes while her face flushed a pale shade of pink. “Did you say five years?”
Leaning in, he let the soft curves of her body cushion his. “Five years…I haven’t been with anybody since I left you.” He leaned in and nuzzled her mouth, but when she tried to deepen the kiss, he pulled away. They needed to talk. To think. He couldn’t do that if he was kissing her. “There were a few times when I almost did, or when I thought about trying. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw you. And I figured, why in the hell bother? All I was doing was setting myself up for disappointment.”
Pressing his lips to hers, he said, “You’re it for me, Destin…so unless we’re going to make this work, it’s best if I just leave now.”
“No.” She bit his lower lip. “We make this work, damn it. We make it work.”
“You’re sure…”
Instead of answering, she kissed him, arching against him so that he felt every subtle curve, every long line. Her tongue sought out his, teasing him, taunting him…the kiss was a challenge, an answer, a promise.
“We make it work,” he muttered against her lips.
Letting go of her hands, he reached for the front of her shirt, but his fingers seemed to twist and tangle on him, refusing to cooperate. With a ragged groan, he hooked his hands in the front of her shirt and jerked. Distantly, he was aware of the buttons popping and flying off, but he didn’t care. Her bra opened in the front—that was a lovely invention, he decided—and he freed the clasp, dipping his head to catch one tight, swollen nipple in his mouth as he shifted his hands down to deal with her trousers.