Fight or Flight

Home > Other > Fight or Flight > Page 22
Fight or Flight Page 22

by Young, Samantha


  Beyond, through the glare of the light against the glass, I could see the control deck. As I stood there gaping at such luxury, the blinds suddenly started to lower over all the windows, startling me. Confused, I looked around and found a familiar panel on the wall near the door.

  The blinds were on a timer. I’d had a similar system fitted into Patrice’s guesthouse. As the blinds lowered, the lighting in the room also dimmed, giving it a romantic, intimate vibe. Very nice.

  Remembering my current needs, I stopped ogling and strode toward the open doorway to my left that led into a small, Romanesque marble bathroom. When I let myself out of the room, making sure it was locked behind me, I hurried to make it onto the upper deck to give Patrice her key card back.

  I didn’t get the chance, however. As soon as I stepped up onto the deck crowded with guests, waitstaff, a bar, buffet, and a small orchestra, the hostess zeroed in on me. “Come, come. I have a surprise.” She grabbed my hand, pulling me and gently pushing people out of her way as she moved us through the crowd.

  God, it was breezy up here. I threw people apologetic smiles as we bumped them out of our way and noted that many women were either huddled into their date’s sides or had their wraps practically covering their entire upper body.

  Only Patrice would get people out on a yacht in May.

  “The fireworks are about to start and I want you to see your surprise first,” Patrice called back to me. “Here you go.” She tugged me harder, almost swinging me around, so that I tottered on my high heels and stumbled right into my surprise.

  My surprise gripped hold of my biceps to steady me and the breath was expelled from my body.

  I didn’t know what hit me first.

  The familiar cologne, the heat that was all his, or the unforgettable feel of his large hands on my body.

  “Caleb?”

  He stared down at me, his expression almost frighteningly fierce; then his grip tightened to near bruising. My first thought was that he’d recently shaved his short beard, because it was now merely stubble.

  My second thought, whatever it might have been, was interrupted by an intense punch of physical longing deep in my belly as I took in his familiar blue eyes and the way his suit stretched over his biceps as he held me. He always looked handsome but kind of rough and uncivilized in a suit. It was so sexy it was almost unbearable to look at him.

  I did have thoughts, questions. Why is he here? How long is he here for?

  But those weren’t a priority.

  Right then my desires were the priority. The need to feel his skin against mine, to taste his lips, to touch him, to have him touch me, felt like a basic, necessary requirement to breathe.

  My face was level with his strong chest as I leaned into him. As always, just standing there, he made me feel small, fragile, feminine, and I wondered how I could have possibly thought anyone could ever make me feel the way he made me feel.

  I suspected I was glaring at him in a mixture of frustration, resentment, and utter longing. He glowered right back at me.

  Vaguely, I was aware of Patrice excusing herself, but everything was muted around us. The music, the people. And I no longer felt the chill, because a fire had erupted inside of me.

  Without saying a word, I reached up and took one of his hands off my bicep and curled mine around it. I turned, his hand dropping from my other arm. He didn’t let go of my hand as I began to slowly—far more sedately than I inwardly felt—lead him through the crowd of the upper deck.

  My hand tightened on his and he squeezed it back as I tentatively walked down the spiral staircase in my heels. There was no one on the lower deck. I led him to the patio doors, inside the small living space, to the master bedroom.

  I didn’t consider my friend’s privacy, or how irresponsible I was acting. In that moment I was selfishly aware of only two things.

  Caleb Scott.

  And my lust for him.

  I took out Patrice’s key card and led us into the private master bedroom. I dropped Caleb’s hand to turn to face him as he closed and locked the door behind us.

  We stared at each other a moment, my chest rising and falling visibly as I struggled to catch my breath.

  I opened my mouth to say something, although I wasn’t sure what, and instead let out a little gasp as I found myself jerked against him.

  He immediately picked me up like I weighed nothing and I wrapped my legs around his waist, my dress riding up, as he spun and held me up against the wall. His mouth claimed mine and I sighed into him in what I could only name utter relief.

  Our harsh breathing filled the bedroom as he broke the greedy kiss to stare at me in longing that matched my own.

  My breath stuttered as his fingers slipped beneath my underwear. Caleb’s eyes darkened at finding me so aroused, his features growing taut with restraint … and then whatever control he’d exerted over himself snapped.

  “Inside my jacket. Wallet,” he demanded.

  I slipped my hand under his lapel and found the wallet tucked in the inside pocket. My hands shook as I withdrew it and removed a condom. I put his wallet back as I tore the condom wrapper open with my teeth. Caleb took it from me impatiently.

  He unzipped his trousers and I gasped at the heat of him throbbing between my legs before I felt him lean all of his body weight against me to hold me against the door. My thighs tightened around his hips as he used both hands to roll on the condom. Then he had a hand back under my ass, holding me up, as his other one slid up my waist to rest possessively over my right breast. I watched his gaze turn triumphant as he nudged aside my underwear and thrust into me. The slight discomfort I felt dissipated, replaced with pleasure that tingled down my spine, through my legs, rippling in my belly as he rocked inside me.

  Our breaths puffed against each other’s lips and I gripped his waist, urging him closer, harder. It was as though I couldn’t get him deep enough, close enough. As though I needed him to lock some piece of me back into place, a piece of me I’d lost when he left.

  As if Caleb felt my urgency, or shared it, he picked up his pace. My head flew back against the door but only for seconds before his hand slid behind my nape and forced it back up.

  His eyes blazed into mine and without saying a word I understood his demand.

  Look at me.

  See me.

  This is us. No one else.

  I nodded.

  Caleb’s hold on me tightened and he slammed his hips against mine.

  It was hard, fast, desperate.

  Six weeks without him felt like an eternity and it barely took any time for the tension inside of me to tighten to the breaking point. With one more hard drive, Caleb shattered me.

  A cry—almost a scream—tore out of me as wave after wave of deep, hard pleasure rolled through me. His long, guttural groan sounded in my ear and his grip on my thigh tightened to biting and painful as he found his own release.

  Caleb held me pinned against the door as we both tried to catch our breath. I felt every inch of him inside me, on me. The familiar smell of his cologne flooded through me and almost brought tears of sweet relief to my eyes.

  My throat was tight with emotion I did not want to identify.

  “It’s not enough,” Caleb said, lifting his head to look at me. I didn’t give him my eyes this time, afraid of what he’d find in them. Thankfully, he let me have my privacy. “We need tae get out of here. I need you again.”

  This brought my gaze up. “I have questions.”

  “Aye, I’m sure you do. But I doubt you want tae get caught in here.”

  Remembering what we’d just done in my friend’s private bedroom, I flushed. “Right. Well … you better let me down.”

  “Pity,” he murmured.

  We had exchanged very few words by the time we left Patrice’s party. Seeing my embarrassment at the idea of handing Patrice her room key back after our obvious absence, Caleb told me to wait on the lower deck while he returned it to her and made our excuses.

/>   After a quiet cab ride to my apartment, I stared at the big Scotsman sitting on my small sofa, his suit jacket strewn across the back of it, with a coffee in his hand. I couldn’t believe how much I wanted to crawl all over him again. But there were questions to be asked and answers to be had.

  “You want tae know what I’m doing back in Boston?” he said, staring up at me from under his lids in a way that told me he’d rather be rolling around in bed right now too.

  Somehow I’d forgotten, in his absence, how intense our sexual connection was. I’d only ever read about this kind of attraction in books and seen it in movies. But here it was. Real. And it had an unhappy side effect of making me confuse lust for something else.

  Or did it?

  I couldn’t stop staring at him and it wasn’t just because I wanted to wrap my body around his.

  I’d missed him.

  I’d missed that sardonic smirk, his fierceness, his surprising gentleness, his honesty. He didn’t say a lot, but it made you pay attention when he did, and, moreover, most everything he said made sense. There was a blunt kindness to Caleb that I appreciated and respected. He wasn’t perfect—definitely not. Because there was also a blunt meanness to him too. He could be rude and abrupt and sometimes cuttingly honest. In saying that, I knew this wasn’t infatuation. When you were infatuated with someone, you failed to see their imperfections. When it was more than a fixation, you still cared about them in spite of their flaws. You saw past their flaws.

  I saw past Caleb’s faults.

  I’d never been around a man who at once made me feel emotionally secure and insecure. I would never have to guess how Caleb felt about me, because he was up front about that, no matter if his feelings disappointed me or, worse, had the ability to hurt me. And I would never have to guess if Caleb listened to me when I spoke, because I knew with one hundred percent certainty that he did listen to me. He didn’t always agree with me, but he always listened.

  I liked him. A lot.

  Tell him to leave, Ava, I suddenly thought to myself, as goose bumps prickled across the tops of my shoulders, as though my body sensed danger.

  Yet I couldn’t open my mouth to tell him to leave, even though somehow, despite what Nick had put me through, I found myself back here again with Caleb. With my heart making too much ground against the battle with my mind.

  “You’re staring,” he murmured.

  “You’re staring too.”

  Caleb’s mouth curved into that smirk I loved and loathed so much and he gave me a little nod of acquiescence. “True.”

  Deciding I almost looked combative standing over him, I settled down on the sofa opposite him with my coffee and tucked my feet under me. “So why are you in Boston?”

  “They offered me the CFO position in the Boston office.”

  I’m sure I didn’t do a very good job of hiding my astonishment, but I hoped like hell I hid the awful rush of hope that swooped through me. “The guy that got fired? They offered you his job?”

  “Aye. Almost as soon as I left Boston. They weren’t impressed with the other candidates and I won their trust during my time here.”

  Ignoring the delighted butterflies fluttering around my belly and how confusing they were, I was glad that my voice sounded so calm, neutral when I replied, “And you said yes?”

  “The North American division is the company’s biggest division, Ava. The CFO position here is a far more complicated job and as such they are offering double the wage I get back in Glasgow. It may sound like the same position, but it’s a promotion. A massive promotion and I couldn’t turn down this opportunity.”

  “Your family?” How would a family that had already lost one son feel about another moving so far away?

  Caleb lowered his gaze to the floor. “Aye, I’ll miss them. But I’ll be back and forth for work a lot, so I’ll get tae see them. Plus, they all want tae visit. My brother Jamie’s here already. He’s planning tae stay with me awhile, do some new work here.”

  Jamie was the social media artist. I’d checked him out online. He shared no pictures of himself, just his work, and it was pretty impressive. I could see why he was so successful. His aesthetic was just different enough to catch the eye, but had a wide commercial appeal. He was a mixed-media artist and he did a lot of semiabstract portraits and landscapes.

  I began to wonder if I’d get to meet Caleb’s brother and I immediately threw the thought away because it was hazardous thinking. It was overtaken, however, by an even more perilous thought.

  Or feeling, rather.

  A prickle of hurt.

  “You’ve known you were coming back for weeks?”

  A person unfamiliar with Caleb Scott might think he was unaffected by my question or the slight accusatory tone to it, but I was starting to know him. I recognized the abruptly blank expression for what it was.

  Irritation.

  Still, I couldn’t help but push, knowing he’d be honest, even if I didn’t like what he had to say. “You didn’t tell me because you weren’t sure you wanted to start things back up again?”

  He shifted in his seat and drank the rest of his coffee before finally meeting my eyes.

  My heart had started to race, wondering when I had become such a masochist, daring a man who could hurt me to be his usual bitingly honest self.

  “There wasn’t much time tae tell you. And anyway, I quite liked the idea of surprising you. And as it turned out”—his ice eyes turned smoky with want—“it was a brilliant idea.”

  Relief flooded me and I almost hated him a little for having this kind of control over my emotions and body. “It was a nice surprise.”

  “That’s not how I would describe it. And I’m guessing from that reunion that you are more than happy tae start this up again.”

  The reminder of how I’d acted on the boat, that unleashing of my savage desire, almost made me blush. Instead, I offered him a self-deprecating laugh, feeling a weird mixture of fear and giddiness that I no longer had to miss and long for him. He was right here and he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

  Quite abruptly Caleb stood up and reached over, taking the mug of coffee out of my hand. I watched him, my eyes lingering on his ass as he strode over to the kitchen. His shirt was hastily tucked back into his suit pants, the aforementioned spectacularly fitting ones showcasing that strong, muscular ass in a way that made my nipples pebble against my bra.

  He put the coffee mugs into the sink and casually returned to me. But what he did next was anything but casual. He got on his knees before me and pulled my legs apart, forcing me to open them and sit up. His big hands smoothed over the tops of my thighs, shoving the hem of my dress up as he leaned into me, his gaze on my lips.

  “I’ve missed this mouth,” he whispered before capturing said mouth in a kiss that brought tears to my eyes. Tears I valiantly forced back.

  It was the best kiss of my life.

  It was like he was drinking from me, a deep, slow, mesmerizing kiss that made my heart slam hard against my chest. It was the kind of sweet, sexy, thorough kiss that confused a woman, because it said I meant more to him than just sex.

  It said he hadn’t just missed my mouth.

  He’d missed me.

  My hands caught his stubbled, prickly cheeks to hold him to me, not wanting that kiss to end anytime soon. Between the thorough seduction of his mouth and the way his thumbs caressed the inner skin of my thigh, I could feel my body melting, sweet and pliant and ready for him.

  His right hand abandoned my thigh to take hold of my left wrist. I instinctively knew his intention was to put my hand where he wanted to feel it most because he was never shy in telling me what he needed from me, but he froze as his fingers brushed the bracelet on my wrist.

  To my disappointment, he broke the delicious kiss to turn his head and look at the object.

  Caleb’s eyes lingered on the diamond tennis bracelet for a second or two before returning to meet mine. There was a rare smile in that cool gaze and it made my
breath catch. “You like it, then?”

  I jerked my eyes from his to the bracelet, afraid that if I continued to let him see me, he’d see into me. He’d see the truth that I was struggling so hard to deny now that he was back.

  “Very much,” I whispered.

  I felt his gaze burning into my face, but I kept mine on the bracelet.

  Then he was kissing me again, this time more fiercely, the tenderness gone, replaced by what felt like a need to claim. It was a ferocious, ravaging, possessive kiss, and while it thrilled me a little, it also pissed me off.

  Did he think he’d won something by putting that bracelet on me? Did he think that I was his? Because no woman could truly belong to a man unless she knew he belonged to her in return. And Caleb Scott did not belong to me.

  So I fought his claiming; I turned the kiss into a battle for supremacy.

  I couldn’t say which one of us tormented and teased the other more as our kisses, our caresses caught fire. All I knew as the night wore on was that I felt like a warrior equal to him, that I could set him ablaze just as much as he made me mindless with passion. In bed Caleb did belong to me and I belonged to him.

  It was a battle with no clear winner. An impasse.

  My feelings were most definitely engaged, but I buried that truth, knowing if I let those feelings reign it would lead to an inevitable war between us. A war for Caleb Scott’s heart.

  A war I knew I would lose.

  Twenty-two

  The sound of rustling woke me up, and when I felt the mattress bounce slightly, I sleepily rolled over and blinked my eyes open. After wincing against the morning light for a second or two, I finally took in the sight of Caleb pulling on his pants.

  “Morning,” I mumbled.

  “Morning, babe,” he replied quietly, giving me a little satisfied smile as he shrugged on his shirt.

  As cognizance returned to me, I looked back at my alarm clock and saw it was only after nine in the morning. “You’re leaving? You don’t want breakfast?”

 

‹ Prev