by Kayla Oliver
Time. Shit.
I glanced at my watch, cursing my frazzled schedule and my own forgetfulness. Callum and I had plans. It was only seven, I saw, so I wasn’t late. Yet. I probably would be after I got ready for dinner, but at least I could tell him it was for the sake of beauty, not because I was scatterbrained and short handed.
But before I even made it out the door, I looked up to see Callum leaning against it. He was devilishly handsome with dark thick hair that was kept fashionably short and neat, slicked back with just a hint of gel. He looked like something out of a James Bond film, though his jacket was slung over his shoulder, his shirt was rolled up to the elbows, and his tie was undone, hanging around his neck.
All of which just made him sexier.
My libido responded immediately, telling me that “okay, Callum’s here, let’s forget about everything but sex.” Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
“Callum,” I finally got out. I’d been staring at him a while, and the charming grin on his face told me he knew it, too. “What are you doing here? I thought we didn’t have dinner until seven thirty.”
He glanced absently at his watch, then back at me with raised brows. “And you thought you would somehow make seven thirty when you’re only just now leaving?”
I winced, caught. “Sorry. I really thought I’d make it out of here by now,” I admitted. “Guess I lost track of time.”
He pushed off the door and stepped into my office. He deposited his coat on the back of a chair, then walked the rest of the way to me. His hands reached for me, resting on my hips, and easily pulled me flush against his body. I gave no resistance. He leaned forward and captured my mouth in a passionate kiss that I instantly melted into.
I dropped my briefcase so that I could wrap my arms around him, my hands weaving through his thick hair. His body was hard and hot against mine, reminding me just how much I liked our physical encounters.
He broke the kiss only so that he could trail hot kisses down my neck. I leaned back, exposing more skin for him to kiss and lick. I groaned, but somehow my mind still managed to kick in.
“Where’ve you been?” I murmured. “I feel like you haven’t been around much lately.”
His kissing paused and for just a second I worried that there was something wrong. Seriously wrong. Like, he wasn’t around so much because he was rethinking our very new, very fragile relationship. By the time he started kissing me again, I was about ready to pop.
“Callum?” I actually pushed him away from me so that I could look him in the eye.
They were lustful, but were they anything else? Bored? Guilty? No longer invested? I didn’t think so… but maybe I was wrong.
“I’m sorry, I know I’ve been really busy with work,” he apologized, his smile puppyish. “Forgive me?”
I laughed a little, the tension slipping away easily. “Fine.”
He grinned and captured my mouth again. I pushed aside the last little tingle of doubt and let myself fall into his warmth. Sexy. Oh, he was sexy. My hands wrapped around his shoulders while his slid to my rear. He squeezed my ass as I groaned into his mouth.
We backed up until I felt my legs at the edge of my desk. Automatically, I propped one hip up onto the countertop, then the other. Callum’s hands dropped from my hips to travel down my thighs until they found the hem of my pencil skirt. When I felt his fingertips along the hem, I nearly lost it. There was something about a man shoving up my skirt to get to my core that drove me crazy.
He pushed the fabric up as high as he could before the fact that I was sitting on my ass prevented anything more.
Giggling, I let him shove me down onto my back then so that he could lift my hips and the fabric over them. I was wearing panties—because I’d honestly forgotten our date; otherwise I’d have forgone them—but he didn’t seem to care. He let a single finger hook around the elastic and pull it aside, exposing my nether lips to his gaze. I was already wet, but we were well past the part where that might have been embarrassing. He knew how much I wanted him, and I was all about him knowing.
Fucking sexy.
His free hand slipped between my thighs. A finger slid along my entrance, collecting moisture before disappearing between my lips. I felt his finger slide inside me, and I let out a sigh.
“Fucking finally,” I told him.
He laughed, though it was low and throaty. It was too hoarse to be a jovial, light laugh. Instead it was laced with the desire that we both felt. “Impatient?” he cooed.
“How many times do I have to tell you yes?” I growled at him.
He chuckled again, and then we both stopped laughing as he added a second finger. I moaned, arching my back off my desk. “Oh, God, yes. Right there.”
“Your pussy’s so tight, Marnie. I fucking love it.”
He curled his fingers inside me, massaging my walls, and quickly I felt myself getting worked up. “C’mon. Quit fucking around. I need more.”
Instead of giving me the more I needed, he grinned wickedly at me and bent low over me, sliding his head between my thighs until his hot breath was sliding over my wetness.
I shivered.
Okay, not what I’d had in mind, but I wasn’t bitching. I didn’t do oral much, because most guys didn’t know what the hell they were doing down there, but he was a fucking god and I loved his tongue.
It slid over my lips until he found the small bundle of nerves there. As soon as the flat of his tongue slipped over it, I lost my shit. I cried out and begged him to give me more. He laved at it, before fitting his full lips around the nub and suckling.
Sharp, intense pleasure rocked my body. Bolts of lightning flooded my veins, and before I could tell him to stop or give me more, he pushed me over the edge. I toppled like a skydiver without a parachute, and I fucking loved it.
I was coming down from my own ecstasy when he positioned his hard length at my entrance. He’d managed to free it while I was delirious with pleasure, and I once again appreciated his size. He positioned the head at my entrance, and in one hard thrust, he shoved himself completely inside me.
I cried out, prompting him to cover my mouth with his to swallow the sound.
His hands slid over my body as his hips began to move. They found my shirt and undid the buttons, slipping beneath the fabric to grab at my soft orbs. He grunted at the bra I was wearing but managed to peel back the cups to expose my nipples to the cool air.
“You’ve got nice tits,” he murmured, his thrusts causing them to bounce and me to moan.
He fondled my breasts and pinched at my nipples until they were hard. All the while I moaned and begged him to keep going. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him into me deeper each time he thrusted until we were both groaning.
“Fuck, Marnie!”
I did my best to meet his thrusts. They grew more erratic until I felt him shove in all the way one last time, then shudder above me. Finally, exhausted and spent, he collapsed over me. He just barely managed to keep most of his weight off me, bracing himself on his forearms.
We waited like that for a long while, breathing heavily and trying to find our bones again.
Eventually, he rolled off me and we got cleaned up. We both remained half-undressed as we lounged in the two chairs in front of my desk. My legs were thrown over the arm, and he was slowly massaging one of my feet in his lap.
“You need a couch in here,” he commented absently.
I wiggled my toes. “What kind of message does that send to clients?”
“That this is your office and you fuck in here regularly?” he offered with a pearly toothed smile.
I kicked lightly at him, but he caught my foot easily and laughed.
“What?” he demanded.
I shook my head. “You’re an ass.”
“So? Besides, it’s true. We always end up doing it in your office.”
“Not always,” I countered. “We’ve done it in beds, too, remember?”
Our first time had been in a swa
nky nightclub where he had keys to a very special set of rooms, complete with a bed. It was insane and a little kinky, but neither of us had expected it to go anywhere. We were just relieving tension.
Now, we seemed to be relieving tension a lot these days.
“True,” he agreed. “But you have to admit that it’s always sexier in the office.”
It was my turn to laugh. “Maybe not always,” I argued. “But yeah sometimes it’s sexier here.”
He smoothed his thumb along the underside of my arch, and I all but purred like a cat. It was almost enough for me to forget everything else—almost. Except that he really hadn’t been around much lately, and I really was a little miffed by it. I may have forgiven him for the sake of sexy times, but that didn’t mean I’d forgotten.
“So where have you been for like, the last week and a half?”
His hands froze for a second, then resumed again. “Work. I’ve been swamped. You know how it is.”
My eyes narrowed as I detected the definite order of bullshit. “Cut the crap, Reid. What’s going on?”
“Nothing, Marnie. I mean it. It’s nothing more than being a billionaire running a company. I had the company before we met, and I still have it now. That hasn’t changed. And sometimes it means that I’m busier than I’d like.” I started to pull my foot away, a little miffed that he was just brushing me aside, but he grabbed my ankle and tugged me back. “It doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t rather be with you every damn chance I get. You know that.”
I wasn’t for sure that I knew that, but I wanted to. And my shoulders did relax a little at his reassurances.
He was owner of Tarvish Press, a rival publishing company, and I knew that being just a partner came with a lot of baggage. I forced myself to relax the rest of the way and stop being a pain the ass.
“Okay.” I paused, then casually swung the conversation an entirely different way. “Have you spoken to Harvey lately?”
Callum fixed me with a chastising stare. “Now, Marnie, honey, you know better. Whatever’s getting kicked around between you and Trent is between you and Trent. My dog in this fight is personal only, meaning I have nothing to do with the professional crap. So you’ll have to work things out between yourselves all on your lonesome.”
I stuck out my lower lip like a child and petulantly crossed my arms over my chest. I didn’t care that I was being a brat; I was about at my wits’ end with Harvey, and it was driving me crazy. He was making life difficult, and it meant I was willing to play dirty—like asking Callum to use his personal friendship to make Harvey comply.
“Don’t pout,” he quipped.
“You and your morals,” I joked.
He laughed. “Morals? Like sleeping with the enemy.”
“My kind of morals.”
He tugged on my leg until I got up and folded myself into his lap. He pulled me down for a kiss, which I eagerly returned. It wasn’t the hot, burning need from earlier, but the passion was there. It always was. When we broke the kiss, I asked, “Are we still on for dinner?”
He hesitated, then said, “I actually came here to tell you I can’t tonight. I’m—”
“Busy, right,” I finished for him, then untangled myself from his body. He looked like he wanted to pull me back, but he didn’t. Instead we both got dressed and promised we’d have dinner another night. He left, and I suddenly didn’t feel so great about things.
Chapter Thirteen
Courtney
After only a few days of being cooped up in my apartment, I was going stir-crazy. I was also fully disgusted with the lack of cleanliness of the place. Seriously, how did people not clean? It was gross.
So I’d put up my hair in a bandana I Love Lucy—style, threw on a pair of overalls that I rolled up, and put on that song from Mrs. Doubtfire. I then proceeded to clean every inch of my apartment.
I got rid of the junk food containers and wiped down the fridge. The trash went downstairs, and I set the throw pillows out on the porch to dry in the sun after scrubbing them clean.
I did a load of laundry, hand washed all of my dishes, cleaned the kitchen and the bathroom, then spent the rest of the time straightening. I vacuumed only after I’d dusted everything and wiped down the electronics, tables, and blinds.
My apartment practically sparkled like Mr. Clean’s bald head. I felt accomplished and much better about the fact that I was still stuck on mandatory vacation.
At least now while I lounged around like a bum, I’d be able to do it while being clean.
My phone had been off for most of my vacation time, because I was sick of getting calls from people I didn’t want to talk to about things I wasn’t going to discuss. But after my disastrous fight with Marnie, I’d had a little time to cool down and a lot of time to feel badly. So I’d turned my phone back on in the hopes that maybe she’d call. Maybe we could talk about how we were both being such big jerks, and somehow we’d go out and have a drink and be friends again.
So when my phone rang, I practically pounced on it. I was so desperate for it to be Marnie. We would talk for a minute, and then we’d both burst out with apologies, and everything would go back to normal.
But when I answered the phone, a desperate “Hello” escaping my lips, I was sorely disappointed.
It wasn’t Marnie on the other side. It was Trent Harvey.
“Don’t hang up,” he told me first thing. Which, screw him, he couldn’t tell me what to do. I was about to tell him as much right before hanging up the damn phone, but he pushed forward, probably sensing that he was on borrowed time. “Please, Courtney, we need to meet. I need to talk to—”
I hung up.
A second later, I received a text. This, too, was from Harvey.
I think I’m in love with you.
I stared at that text message for what felt like hours. In love with me? Something clutched inside my chest, and I thought it might be my heart. It had been a long time since someone thought they were in love with me. Longer still since someone actually was. And…
And it didn’t mean anything.
At least, that was what I was telling myself. I set my phone down and numbly walked into the kitchen. My brain was still swamped with the idea that he was in love with me. In love. With me.
I opened the refrigerator door and stared at the contents within without seeing anything in there. Then I closed the door and turned around to open the pantry. Nothing there either. I wasn’t looking for anything; I didn’t want anything. My body was just on autopilot as I tried to process that text.
I think I’m in love with you.
What in the hell was I supposed to do with that?
My phone went off again, and I cringed. Jesus Christ, who was it now? I almost didn’t even check the phone, sure that it was a Psych! Just kidding! from Trent. But somewhere I found the courage to look and was slightly relieved and slightly disappointed.
It wasn’t from Trent at all.
Elizabeth had texted me several times.
Jesus, the bitch is here.
In town.
And I can’t avoid her.
Like, I can’t.
She knows where I am!
I watched as they continued to pour in, and if I’d been in a different mood, I would have been amused by all of it. Seriously, she was texting like the stepsister from hell was a stalker hell-bent on her complete and utter annihilation. Which, okay, possible, but highly unlikely.
I ignored any following texts and sent her one back. You can’t avoid her?
I got one back instantly. No. We’re supposed to go out tonight. Please, come with me. I can’t do this alone.
Normally, I would have teased Liz for being such a pansy, but I was still stuck on that single text from Trent and I wasn’t in the mood for teasing. I wasn’t sure what I was in the mood for, but I knew it wasn’t anything in the light-hearted spectrum.
So I replied with a Yeah, I’ll come with you. You don’t have to be stuck alone with her.
Liz sent
about twenty different thank-you texts, and I finally just set the phone down. I got into the shower and stood there for the next hour, trying to figure out what the hell was going on in my life.
***
I got ready and met up with Liz at a nice little restaurant over by the docks. It didn’t look the best necessarily, but it had good food, and once you got inside, it was an awesome place to get a bite to eat. I wasn’t sure if Liz was planning on wigging her stepsister out with the outer appearance of the place or woo her with the great food.
Either way, I was on board.
Liz was waiting for me outside, glancing at her watch impatiently every five seconds. Her hair was piled up on her head save a few loose curls, and her makeup was done perfectly. She looked ready to kill.
Or compete.
I wondered if she was trying to look good just so that her sister would show her up.
“Liz,” I called.
She looked up from her watch to see me and practically sagged with relief. She waved me over. “Thank God,” she told me, then pulled me in for an embrace. “I could not do this without you.”
I laughed but hugged her back. When we parted, I asked, “So where is the She Devil anyway?”
Liz lifted her hands to the sky dramatically as though to ask the gods, “who knows?” “Maybe she’s not even coming.” Liz sounded so hopeful that she was almost gleeful at the prospect.
“Jesus, is she really that bad?”
Liz made a gesture as though to hang herself. “Yes,” she said flatly. “She really, really is just that bad.”
I couldn’t tell how much of that was bullshit or not, but I could easily assume the worst about a stepsibling. Throwing two families together wasn’t exactly the Brady Bunch, though people liked to think it was. “All right, well, let’s hope she got lost and we can just get some food ourselves.”
Liz nodded emphatically in agreement. But a second later, her face fell and her shoulders sagged. “Oh, damn. Here she is.”
I glanced toward the very nice sporty car that had just pulled up. A second later, a beautiful woman with flowing dark hair and perfect skin got out of the car. She had shapely legs and hips but was lacking a little up top. Not that it mattered. She looked like a million bucks, and I wondered if the reason the two sisters didn’t get along had something to do with the both of them being too attractive.
