She was small, so fucking petite, a strong gust of wind could probably fucking snap her in two. I stood slowly, entranced, and her clear blue eyes rose, keeping her gaze locked to mine. My six-two stature towered over her tiny frame. She had shoulder-length, wavy, pale, blond hair that was pulled back from her face with a pink crocheted band of little flowers crisscrossing together. As my eyes wandered down, I saw that her T-shirt was the same pink, with a large red heart in the center of it. Her faded blue jeans led down to Chucks on her small feet in the same shade of pink. A simple gold cross hung from a delicate chain around her slim neck, and there were small gold hoops in her ears.
Jesus Christ, she looks like she’s young enough to be in fucking high school.
Fuck, is she?
“Callen, this is Noelle Anderson. She’s been assigned to be your visitor for the next four weeks,” Judy said with enthusiasm.
Noelle smiled, and it was so bright I thought I might go fucking blind. She opened her mouth to speak, but I growled, “How fucking old are you?”
“Callen!” Judy snapped.
Noelle quickly closed her mouth and abruptly turned her head toward Judy, the faint rosy glow of her cheeks turning crimson.
“Well?” I barked impatiently.
“There is no need to be so harsh with your tone, Callen, and—”
“You gonna answer me… Noelle?” I said slowly in a deep, rough voice, accentuating her name.
Before I even finished, her blues came back to me and then… she fucking spoke.
“I’m twenty-two,” Noelle told me in a gentle, sweet tone, with a kind grin.
Fuck.
Her voice was so soft and sweet.
Jesus, I hope they know what the fuck they’re doing.
I scoffed and turned toward Judy. “What the hell are we supposed to do? Talk about Britney Spears shit?”
“Callen, that’s enough,” Judy bit out.
I moved my heated gaze back to Noelle and grated out, “Where the fuck are our outings gonna be? Toys “R” Us?”
My chest tightened as her grin faded and she bowed her head. Her hand lifted, fingers grabbing the small cross, and she began rubbing it gently.
“Mr. Westbrook, am I going to have to call Dr. Meyers to come talk with you?” Judy threatened in a hard tone.
“No, Ms. Wilson,” I said, glaring at her. “You can leave us now, ma’am.”
Judy turned to Noelle and put her hand on her arm. My fingers flinched to grab Judy’s hand. “Noelle, honey, you okay?”
Noelle raised her head, looked to me, then over to Judy. “Yes, Ms. Wilson. Thank you,” she told her softly.
Fuck. So fucking sweet.
Judy looked to me, narrowed her eyes, and informed me, “Don’t forget, Callen”—she waved a hand to the ceiling— “cameras.”
“Yep.”
With that, she left the room.
“Mr. Westbrook,” Noelle called, but I kept my eyes to the door. She tried again. “Sir?”
Fucking Christ!
My eyes darted to her as my cock twitched at hearing her sweet voice calling me sir.
“If you’d like me to leave, I—”
“Sit,” I ordered, cutting her off, jerking my head toward the matching chair in the corner.
And, Jesus, she obeyed immediately.
Fuck, I really hope they know what the fuck they’re doing with this program.
Chapter Two
Callen
I sat down after moving my chair to face her and watched her nervously fumble with a black, white, and pink wallet-looking thing with keys attached to it in her lap. Her fingers looked so fragile, so delicate, just like the rest of her. I focused on her bare nails, imagining what they would feel like—
“Would you like to talk about something?” she asked, interrupting my poisoned thoughts.
When my gaze found hers, a blush crept into her cheeks as if she knew exactly what I was thinking. But that was impossible. She was too pure, untouched… untouchable.
“What made you want to be a part of this program?” I spat at her.
“I like to help people,” she answered with a shrug and a smile.
“And?”
“And?” she repeated.
“Yeah?” I nodded firmly, encouraging her to go on.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not understanding….”
I growled, “Stop calling me sir.”
“Oh.” She blinked a few times and informed me, “I was taught by my father to call men older than me sir.”
Putting my elbows to my knees, I leaned in her direction and told her in a husky voice, “Princess, calling a male sir can’t be taught by a guy, it’s earned by a man.”
I could see the gears turning behind her timid blue eyes as she stared at me. Then the constant blush on her cheeks quickly encompassed her neck and face.
“Oh,” she droned.
“Yeah. Oh,” I agreed bluntly.
She wiggled her small frame in the chair, smiled, then asked, “What do you do for fun?”
I was far from the type of man to roll my eyes, but that’s exactly what I wanted to do. So instead I shot back, “What do you think this is, a spa or some shit?”
Her smile faded and she looked to the tan linoleum floor, her shoulders slumping with sadness.
Fuck! Easy, Callen.
Jesus, why in the fuck did they give me a young woman? Especially one who seemed like she couldn’t handle what I was dishing out. For fucks sake, the doctors knew me, knew I didn’t do sweet shit or small talk.
“What do you do for fun?” I asked in a low, even tone, trying not to let the abrasiveness of my voice scare her any more than it’d already done.
She slowly lifted her head and when she spoke this time, it was soft and sounded so fucking sweet that I fleetingly wondered what she would sound like screaming my name.
“I make candles.”
I sat back in my chair, fixed the beanie on my head, then crossed my arms. When she didn’t give me anything else, I sallied on.
“You make candles? Hmm, and how do you do that?” I asked, but I was clearly uninterested.
That was the wrong fucking question because for the next thirty minutes she told me all about it, from how she melted the wax, to all the different varieties of scented oils she could add to enhance certain smells. Even how to secure the fucking wick to the bottom of the jar. Fifteen minutes into her instructional fucking candle-making conversation, she had lifted her legs, crossing them over one another. I watched intently when she did it and took notice of how flexible she’d seemed to be.
Not going to fucking lie, my mind had wandered off and the only wax I was thinking of was the one I imagined pouring onto her rosy pink nipples. But when she began to wind down and my mind drifted back into the room, I looked to the clock and was grateful that we only had ten minutes left.
Standing, I cut her off and said, “Let me walk you out.”
“Oh!” She scurried from the position she’d been sitting in. “I’m so sorry. I spent most of our time talking about how to make candles and didn’t give you a chance to talk. Next time I promise that I’ll—”
“Noelle?” I called firmly, causing her to halt.
“Yes?” she quickly answered, looking up at me.
“Calm the fuck down.”
“Okay,” she whispered, and let out a small breath.
Watching her pink lips part, hearing the slight exhale of breath made my cock twitch, jolt in a way it never fucking had in my thirty-eight years of life.
Yeah, it was time for her to fucking go.
We walked silently, side by side down the long hall lined with inspirational quote posters, ones I’d never taken the time to read since I’d been here. Once we reached the end, we made a right, continued down a small corridor, passed a few office doors on our left and right, and entered the common room, which seemed to have been the main living area of the old house. Noelle and I hadn’t been in there for ten fucking seconds b
efore several sets of eyes were on her, looking her up and down, some guys glaring with a slight tip of their lips.
My hands reflexively folded into fists. They began to itch with the need to fucking punch something or someone. Before my vision began to cloud with anger, I saw Aaron licking his fucking lips while ogling her. That’s when I involuntarily growled out loud, and all ten or so people in the room turned their eyes my way.
I wasn’t sure if she knew the reasoning for my snarl, but she placed her hand on my forearm. All my attention focused on her small fingers touching me, like silk covering rough, battered driftwood.
“Should we find a seat?” she whispered, bringing my attention to her mouth.
I quickly jerked my arm from hers and grumbled, “Yeah.”
And fuck me, she didn’t move, she waited for me to guide her to a table. When we reached an empty small, round table in the back of the room, I waited for her to sit, then took the chair next to her. I brought my eyes to the front of the room where Dr. Meyers was standing. His focus was on Noelle and me and he was smiling. I didn’t return the friendly gesture, just stared at him with a blank expression.
He glanced around the room.
“Okay, since we’re all present, there’s a few things I’d like to go over with everyone.” Dr. Meyers gestured to Sylvia, his personal secretary, who grabbed a bag from the nearby table. She dug through it and pulled out the cell phones, one by one. Reading the names on the phone, she began to make her way around the room while Dr. Meyers continued to speak.
“Sylvia will be providing everyone with cell phones. Each patient and sponsor will receive one. These are already preprogramed with your visitor’s phone number. They’re also programed for that specific function only, which means you cannot use it for anything but to reach your partner by either text or phone call. Your visitors are already aware of this.”
I looked to Noelle, who smiled at me. My eyes dropped to her pink, luscious lips, and I battled with the thought that I both hated and liked her smile. Before I had a chance to say anything, Sylvia placed a phone in front of each of us.
“Thank you,” Noelle whispered, so as to not interrupt Dr. Meyers’s speech.
Sylvia smiled and nodded to Noelle, and when Noelle’s lips began to lift in a smile at Sylvia, I had to fucking look away.
“This will be to let you know if they’re going to be late or when they will be arriving. Or if you’d simply like to chat with one another.” I tuned back in to the doctor midsentence. “You and your supporter can establish rules on how the use of the phones will suit you both. Does anyone have any questions?”
“Soo,” Aaron drawled in a scheming manner, “these cells can’t be used to make any other calls or browse the Internet?”
“No, Aaron, your phone is only programmed to either call or text Janice, your supporter,” he informed him. The slump of Aaron’s shoulders and the annoyed expression he gave his visitor, who appeared to be my mother’s age, showed he wasn’t very happy.
I sensed Noelle close, moved my eyes her way, and saw she was leaning toward me.
“You can call or text me whenever you like, Callen,” she told me in a gentle voice.
I wanted to whisper in her ear, “Even late at night when I have my cock in my hand, stroking it while thinking about my tongue buried in your sweet pussy?” but I didn’t. Instead, I just gave her a nod and went back to listening to the doctor.
“Any other questions?” he asked, gaze roaming the room. When no one answered, he finished, “Okay, since we have about fifteen minutes left, you may all mingle.”
Before he finished speaking, I rose from my seat and started toward the door. I didn’t “mingle.” But with every step closer to the door, the harder I felt her eyes burning into my back. Burning with hurt, anger, or maybe unshed tears; whichever it was, I still sensed them. It happened so quickly that I hadn’t even realized what I was doing, but I turned and was met with her soft blue eyes gazing at me.
And fucking Christ, she gave me a small smile and lifted the cell phone I’d left on the table. Worse, she rose from her seat and made her way toward me, and I was forced to watch her body move. The way her slim hips swayed in her tight faded jeans, the slight bounce of her small breasts under her shirt, the gentle shift of her pale blond hair falling off a shoulder. And fuck me, the way those crystal-blue eyes stayed locked with mine.
Jesus Christ. I’m so fucked.
She stopped a foot away, our eyes still locked. She lifted her hand, I lifted mine, and when she transferred the cell into it, her fingers grazed my palm. No words were spoken, but it seemed so much could’ve been said in the hold of our eyes on one another… before Aaron fucked it up.
“Aaron Sullivan,” he said to Noelle, extending his hand.
She blinked a few times before turning her attention to him. “Noelle Anderson.” She took his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
My heated gaze stayed on their joined hands until the burning inside became too much to bear. Swiftly, I snatched her free hand and yanked her a few feet away from Aaron, causing their hands to separate.
“Hey, dickhead. I was saying hello,” he spat.
I lunged forward and grabbed his shirt collar. “Yeah, and now you’re done, cocksucker,” I rumbled in his face.
“Callen?” Noelle’s sweet, soothing voice skated across my body, and when she placed a hand on my back, I felt her calm seep into me.
I released Aaron with a push, causing him to stumble. He righted himself, huffed, and when I growled, he walked away muttering his annoyance. Watching him retreat, I looked to the front of the room and saw Dr. Meyers’s eyes on Noelle and me.
Fucking great.
When her hand left my back, I turned. “Think it’s time you leave, princess.”
“Yeah,” she breathed softly.
Chapter Three
Noelle
*~*DAY 32*~*
I belted the words to Bury It by CHVRCHES through the kitchen as I continued drying and putting away my breakfast dishes.
Not like there was much room in the tiny kitchen to perform the dance routine that’d been going on in my head. But I was extremely grateful that Aurora was letting me stay in her condo while she was in Las Vegas. For the ten years she and I had been friends, I’d known she would flee the small town we lived in as soon as she saved enough money, trying to fulfill her dreams of being a dancer. By the time she turned twenty-one, she’d had one full-time job and two part-time, and rented a condominium in Tallahassee, two equally small towns away from the one we grew up in. It’d only taken her three years to save enough money to support herself for a year while she went and captured her dream of dancing across the stage at any prestigious Las Vegas hotel.
I had all faith that she’d control her destiny.
She had that in her, the attitude that she was going to do what she wanted no matter what anyone said or thought of her, chasing her dreams to the ends of the earth and back if she had to with no obstacle knocking her down. I, on the other hand, didn’t have an ounce of that boldness in my blood. Then again, even though Aurora and I had a strong friendship, we were polar opposites.
See, I’d always been your good girl. Constantly did—and most times still do— what my father asked of me. When he married my stepmother, I’d stood at her side holding her god-awful bouquet of flowers as they exchanged their vows. Waited on her hand and foot at the age of eleven when she was pregnant with my younger brother, Noah. Sat in on every sermon good ole Pastor Marshall Riley had performed.
Yes, my father’s a pastor.
But… he’s also a hypocrite and a liar.
While he bestowed his homilies on his loving congregation, he had them all fooled. His parishioners held him so high he thought he could touch God himself. Then again, weren’t we supposed to have faith and trust in our clergyman? Could I blame them for not seeing past his charming good looks, bright, skillful smile, perfectly coiffured hair, pristine pressed suits, and suave demeanor and see him fo
r what he truly was?
But I was the only one who knew his dirty little secret. A secret so vile there were times I thought I’d vomit from the thought of it. My father hadn’t even known that I knew, but working in his office as much as I did, with access to files, bank accounts, and receipts, it was hard to miss. Apparently, he thought I had, because he still treated me the same, like a small bird not ready to take flight on my own. Maybe it was my appearance, or that I hadn’t known much about life because he never gave me a chance to experience things that young adults my age were doing, like Aurora had been doing, finding herself.
No, even at age twenty-two he’d still fought me tooth and nail about moving out of his house. Told me the thirty-minute drive it would take me to get to the office was too long, and what if I needed him in the dead of night? He had tried so hard to lay guilt on me, but I’d held my ground because if I hadn’t, what I was doing now wouldn’t be possible.
Once the dishes were back in the cabinet, I headed to the shower where I took my time, shaving my legs and doing a conditioning treatment on my hair. After, I even did one of the facial masks I’d picked up on my way home from my visit with Callen.
Callen.
Callen Westbrook.
For the love of God! Why, God, did he have to look like he did?
You could clearly see the evidence of a very toned muscular body under his tight long-sleeved navy blue shirt. If the corded muscular forearms were anything to go by, I was one hundred percent correct. His perfectly sculpted features couldn’t be hidden under the dark stubble adorning his face. Since he’d worn a beanie, his hair color was a mystery but if I went by the color of his stubble, it was dark. But his piercing green eyes were mesmerizing. When they were aimed at you, it was hard to look away. He captured you with them, and along with his domineering air it was difficult to take a deep breath.
He was scary.
He was detached.
He was absolutely gorgeous.
But most of all… he was in pain.
Not even his stunning good looks, powerful body, or large size could shield him from the hurt he’d evidently endured. I was going to try with everything I had to help him.
DAY 31 Page 2
