"Yes, that's it. I'm a copper. You've got me. Please don't tell."
Callum watched me for a few more long seconds. I wasn't afraid, because I knew there was no way he could know the truth. He may have been sharp, he wasn't psychic. He picked up his glass and I watched him take a slow sip. He had full lips, the kind you could spend hours kissing, until your own lips were raw and your heart was pounding. He winced slightly when the alcohol got into his cut.
"Is that OK?" I asked, unable to stop myself wincing in sympathy. "Because as well as being a cop, I'm also a doctor. You should get that checked out. You probably need a couple of stitches."
"I don't need stitches for this. It'll be scabbed over by morning. Besides, women dig injuries."
"Do they now?"
"Women like your friends do, Lily. You put a muscular bloke with a facial injury in front of women like that and their knickers melt clean off."
"Yeah," I smirked, "I heard all about that."
"Ha!" Callum laughed."I bet you did. What can I say, I'm a slave to my impulses. And I could use a rich sugar-momma."
He was good. Able to come off as affable and relaxed without giving a single thing away. Any other man would have been curious as to what the girls had said about him. But Callum gave every impression of not giving a single shit what they had to say.
We talked for what felt like twenty minutes, but ended up being almost three hours. Two pints of cider later, when Pandora finally walked over to let me know they were leaving, I felt more awake than I had in weeks.
"We're off, Lily-pants. You coming with? Or...?"
Pandora left the question hanging in the air.
"I got her," Callum said before I could answer. Pandora looked at me.
"Does he?"
It was too easy to say that my objective was to cultivate a relationship with someone - anyone - who might have access to the inner workings of the Streatham Club. Yes, that was true, but it wasn't the whole truth. The truth was simply that I was completely captivated by Callum Cross and I wasn't ready for the evening to end. It had been so long since I'd felt that electricity in my belly, that almost irresistible need to be close to someone. I just wanted a little bit more of it before I went back to my flat and fell asleep alone. I met Pandora's eyes and nodded.
"Yeah, it's cool, you guys go on."
She tilted her head to the side, curious and perhaps a little bit envious. Maybe she'd wanted to go home with Callum? I could see that two of the other fighters were standing by the door with Genie, Hannah and Jemima. And Stan the barman was there too. Stan? How had he managed that?
Pandora winked at me. "Right then, Lily. You have a good night. I hope you know what you're doing with this one."
When they'd left, Callum turned and looked right at me and oh, I so badly wanted to just let go and let whatever was threatening to happen between us actually happen. His eyes were mesmerizing - pale, crystal blue with dark, soot-black rings around the irises.
"I see Stan's not going home alone," I said, desperate to say something - anything - that would take my mind off those blue eyes. "I'm a little surprised. He's not Genie's usual type."
"I put in a good word with Genie. Told her young Stan was hiding a rabid beast of a man under that meek exterior."
"And is he?" I asked, laughing.
"Not sure. I doubt it. But he's been pining over you girls all night, it's only fair I give him a hand."
"I'm not going home with you, by the way. I'm just enjoying this conversation," I told him.
Callum chuckled. "I'm sure you are."
"Has anyone ever told you you're incredibly cocky?"
He rubbed his neck and the gesture drew my eyes downwards. Even his neck was gorgeous. Thick, muscled, smooth. I wondered how he would react if I kissed him there. Would I be able to hear it when his breath caught?
"Yeah. But I'm just a big softie on the inside."
I had no idea if Callum Cross was a 'big softie' on the inside. I did know he was a lot quicker than he was letting on.
"Is that so?" I asked.
He shot me a disarming smile. God, I wanted to go home with him. It had been so long. I couldn't, that was clear, but damn did I want to. My life for the past few years had been nothing but police work. I would never have done anything to risk my career. And part of that meant avoiding situations that would make it easy to do just that.
About three quarters of the way through the next pint, I knew it was time to go. Reluctantly, I got to my feet, testing out my balance to see just how tipsy I was. No swaying ensued - if living in the UK is good for anything, it's good for building up your tolerance to alcohol.
"I think I should be getting home,” I said.“It's almost three."
"I'll drive you. I've got my car outside."
"That's fine, I can call a minicab."
"A minicab? In Streatham? You looking to get mugged? Stop being a pain in the arse and let me drive you."
I could have called a black cab. I did think, briefly, about how wise it was to let Callum know where I lived. But the vibe I got from him was a good - if slightly mysterious - one. Nothing about him seemed shifty, and my instincts for shifty were well-honed. Besides, working undercover meant going the whole way. Not doing anything to arouse suspicion.
"I live in Hackney," I said, giving him one last chance to change his mind.
"Hackney? Fucking hell, Lily, that's almost as bad as Streatham."
I laughed out loud at that. "And are you even OK to drive?"
Callum looked down at the half-finished pint in front of him. "This is all I've had since midnight."
It was all he'd had since midnight - I knew because I'd been keeping track.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes I am sure, Lily Parker. And so are you."
What did that mean? Was he aware that I'd been keeping track? Oh God. How embarrassing.
"What do you mean?" I asked, after a too-long pause.
"You know exactly what I mean. You've been watching me like a hawk. You're a careful one, aren't you? Not the type to break rules or do anything stupid?"
I shook my head slowly, thinking that it was too bad he'd decided to go into illegal fighting rather than police work.
"Come on then, let's get out of here," he said. He stood up and reached for my hand.
Chapter 3: Callum
I eventually succeeded in getting Lily to accept my offer of a ride home. My first impression of her had been right - she wasn't like her friends. In fact, she was so unlike them it almost made me suspicious. Her strangely opaque manner didn't help in that department, either.
Women were never much of a mystery to me, not the way they seemed to be to most men. They're just as instinct driven as the other half of humanity, just as horny and needy and insecure. As soon as you know that, they're easy. Of course, the way I looked didn’t hurt either, but I was pretty sure I’d do OK for myself even if I looked like Stan. Well, if Stan had a prescription for acne cream.
Lily, though. Lily. What was it about her? She made it difficult for me. Lucky for her I liked women making things difficult. It made the eventual conquest that much sweeter.
I walked her out to the parking lot, staying just a few steps behind so I could take in the glory that was her curvaceous ass in that fitted dress. She didn't balk at my shitty car the way her friends had when it was their turn to be driven home. I was intrigued by her. How had she managed to get into the group of Posh Fillies? And what the hell was she doing working at a fucking PR agency? PR work was mickey-mouse stuff, jobs for rich girls to play around at for a few years before the call of husbands and babies got too loud to ignore.
"I love this city."
I looked over at her to try and figure out if she was joking or not.
"Really? Why?"
We were still in South London, and not one of the nice areas. She was watching me drive, watching my hands on the wheel and on the gearstick - although she was pretending not to.
"Don't sound s
o surprised. I grew up in the middle of nowhere in Canada. London is so...dense. There's so many people. I love it."
"Most people hate it for that reason."
"I know. But I'm starting to realize that hating London is part of being a Londoner. I'm not quite there yet."
The seatbelt pulled her dress tight over her breasts, and it made my cock ache. I needed to know more about her. I needed to know everything about her.
"Do you have a boyfriend, then? Husband?"
She shook her head and I refrained from pumping my fist.
"No. Work's too busy. Well...yeah. Work's too busy."
"Sounds like there's more to it than that."
She tucked a lock of thick, dark hair behind her ear and I had to look away.
"There is, but it's boring," she replied.
"Go on, it's going to take ages to get to Hackney."
"Oh, it's no big deal, there was no big drama or anything. I almost got married a few years ago, and then when we split up I really had a think about it. I don't hate men, I'm not bitter, it's not about that. It's just, I don't know, I don't do so well in relationships."
"Me neither."
I felt her eyes on me when I said that.
"Why's that?"
"I don't know."
We both laughed.
"No, I mean, it's like you said. I don't have any problem with women. It's more about the relationships themselves, not the people in them. I get bored. I feel trapped."
She nodded and her hair bounced with each movement of her head. I watched the light from the streetlights crawl over the bare skin of her neck, over and over as we drove.
"Yeah, that's it. It's the relationships themselves, not the people. When I split up with my ex, I don't even think I was sad. I was just disappointed, you know? It wasn't what I thought it would be, and I knew getting married wasn't going to fix it. Nobody needs each other anymore. We all make our own money, do our own grocery shopping, rent our own flats. I'm starting to think you either get married at twenty-one or you just don't get married."
Married at twenty-one? The way she said that made it sound like twenty-one was a long time ago. My mum - bless her - had been unequivocal on the rule of asking a woman her age. And the rule was: you don't ask a woman her age. Ever.
"A lot of my friends are married, kids, the whole thing. Some of them before we left school," I said. "It's so weird seeing them now with their families."
"Did you go to uni?" She asked, watching a group of drunken teenage girls stumbling down the pavement outside and smiling.
"Nah."
"Nah?"
"No reason, is there? I'm not academically inclined, as my teachers used to say. And uni is useless now isn't it? Three years, debt, then a shit job that requires four years of on-the-job experience that you don't have because you've been in school. And all in exchange for a salary that wouldn't pay for a flat the size of a shoebox."
"Exactly. Did your parents freak out? Mine did. They still don't speak to me very much. I'm a disappointment."
I didn't comment on what Lily had said, not directly, but it was interesting. She'd suffered. And not just the kind of suffering that ensues when daddy buys you the wrong color BMW. Was that what she was so locked down about? Because she was locked down, I could sense it.
"Not academically inclined, huh? You seem pretty smart to me," she said, watching me for a response.
"I didn't say I wasn't smart, I said I wasn't academically inclined. I was never good at sitting quietly in a classroom all day. I got bored and wild. I also have a problem with authority."
"What a surprise," she replied, laughing.
I knew my cock was interfering with my thought processes, but something about Lily made me feel like she got me in some way. I didn't mind her gentle sarcasm - in fact I loved it. Maybe it was because she was foreign? Maybe her non-Englishness meant she wasn't judging me on my accent or my car or the fact that I lived above a café in Streatham. Whatever it was, I felt inclined to speak to her about things I didn’t generally speak to anyone about.
"What can I say? I am who I am,” I told her.“I'm not incapable of respecting other people, I just need to have a reason, you know?"
"Yeah, actually, I do know. I'm exactly the same way."
As we sat at a deserted intersection, waiting for the light to go green, it hit me. I experienced a hint of insecurity around a woman for the first time in my life. I cared about what Lily Parker thought of me. I wanted her to like me. I wanted her to be impressed with me.
I was slightly disturbed by the realization. Why her, why now? Women had always been impressed with me. My mum thought the sun rose and set with me. The girls at school always seemed to feel the same way, following me around in a giggling harem of instant self-esteem. After I left school, it continued. Female attention was a constant in my life, the one thing I never had to do without. And Lily was paying attention to me. So where did the sudden, disconcerting worry come from? I gripped the wheel a little harder without meaning to, and she caught it. She caught everything.
"Are you OK? You really should get that lip looked at, you don't want it to get infected."
"I'm fine," I replied, more vehemently than I had intended. What the fuck was happening to me? "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I'm fine, my lip is fine, I'm just a little tired."
I could feel her there beside me, peering at me, studying me. It made me feel exposed, but part of me loved it.
"It's here," she said after a few minutes of not-uncomfortable silence had passed. "Hovechurch Road. The house with the monkey puzzle tree."
"The what tree?"
"The monkey puzzle tree." She pointed to an odd looking, pine-type tree in front of us as I pulled the car in front of the house. "It was there when I bought the flat and I read up on them - they're endangered, so I've been trying to nurse it back to health."
I looked at the tree as Lily unbuckled her seatbelt and gathered her things. Fuck, I wanted to put my hands on her.
"Do you want to see it?"
Yes I wanted to see it. I wanted to do anything to spend a few more minutes with her. And I got the feeling she was trying to prolong things, too. Maybe there was still a way to end the night with a bang. I got out of the car and we walked over to the tree, both of us quiet, aware of the tension between us.
"It's quite sh-"
"Ow!"
She smirked and finished her sentence. "It's quite sharp."
I laughed and brought my pricked finger to my mouth, forgetting about my cut lip.
"Ow! Fuck!"
Lily reached up and touched my hand briefly, then snatched her arm back and looked away.
"What's wrong?" I asked. She stood so close to me that I could feel the heat from her body.
"Nothing, nothing, I just, ah, I have to get to bed. I have work tomorrow morning," she said. She was embarrassed about touching me, I could see it on her face.
"Right then. Give me your number. I have to see you again."
I handed her my phone and she entered her number, saying nothing. When she handed it back I caught her eye. She was fighting with herself. Seeing that look in her eyes just made my need even more acute. I leaned down, close enough to feel her breath on my cheek, and spoke quietly:
"Give me a kiss."
She stayed where she was, she didn't pull back. A few electric seconds passed before she replied, her voice a slow whisper.
"I can't. I mean, I - I can't."
I slid my forefinger under her chin and lifted her face to mine, a move that generally had women struggling to stay on their feet. Lily met my gaze, her eyes steady.
"You can't or you don't want to?" I asked. Her mouth was right there. I wanted to taste her. I wanted her to open her lips for my tongue so I could make her feel what she was doing to me.
"I can't, Callum."
My name sounded so perfect in her mouth. And hearing the slight breathlessness in Lily's voice that night on her front doorstep provoked more of a reacti
on in my cock than most blowjobs did.
"So you want to?"
She smiled slowly and held eye-contact, nodding. "Yeah, Callum. I want to, but I can't."
"I'll take that, Lily Parker."
Any other girl and I would have pushed harder. She was close to giving in, I could have had her. The thing was, part of me wanted to leave her unsatisfied. I wanted her to get into bed that night with a tingle of unmet need.
She watched me get back into the car and waved as I pulled away from the curb. When I looked in the rearview mirror she was gone, and the only thing I could see what that strange monkey puzzle tree. I remember it striking me as excruciatingly endearing that she'd bothered to take the time to research the tree, then to try and nurture it back to life. Who did that kind of thing? No one I knew.
I drove home with my head full of Lily Parker and her sweet, warm, soft curves. Her voice, which could be sharply sarcastic one minute and girlishly breathy the next. She'd looked me right in the eye and told me she wanted to kiss me, and then gone ahead and not kissed me. It was one of the sexiest things I'd ever experienced.
I didn't recognize the danger these new emotions presented. My mind just didn't know how to process a woman who showed interest but didn't immediately fall to her knees in front of me. What was I going to do with her? More importantly, what was I going to do with myself if I suddenly couldn’t think about anyone but her?
Lily Parker had thrown down a challenge - and there was no way I wasn't up to it. I drove the rest of the way back to Streatham with a big grin on my face and a hard-on that refused to go down.
Chapter 4: Lily
I woke up the next day groggy and slightly hungover. I'm not a morning person on the best of days, either. It took me a good couple of minutes of going through the motions on autopilot. I turned off the alarm, forced myself out of bed, then sat on the edge of the bed with my head in my hands, trying to figure out how bad the headache was. As I stumbled towards the bathroom, the previous night came flooding back. And with the memory came a sharp pang of what I could only describe as happiness. Happiness edged with lust.
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