His soft demand shocked the hell out of her. “What?”
“I mean it. We’ve never even seen one another outside this club.”
“I live here.”
“We’ll find a new place, room enough for two.”
She gaped at him. “I-I work here.”
“You don’t need this job, lovely. I’ll support you.”
Dumbfounded, she stared mutely. He cared for her that much? It broke her heart to shake her head.
“Callie, hear me out. We can’t truly grow together if Thorpe is always in our way. We need time alone, just the two of us.”
“I . . .” The offer was tempting, in a way. Maybe she could start over with Sean. Maybe he would agree to move somewhere else and . . . Harbor a woman wanted for murder? Hide her when his whole life would come crashing down for it? He already asked too many questions. Sean wasn’t dumb; it wouldn’t take him much longer to figure her out. “I can’t.”
Just like she couldn’t stand to break his heart now. If his feelings were genuine, he would hurt enough once he woke to find her gone.
Frustration flashed across his face. He clenched his fists. “Don’t you understand? As long as he’s dictating the terms, we can’t really be together. We can’t grow.”
If she wasn’t running for her life or also in love with the man Sean was trying to wrest her from, she might agree. She didn’t have that luxury now. “I’ll think about it. I just need time. This is really sudden.”
He sighed. “All right. I’ve been pondering it for weeks now and I’m ready to have you all to myself, but . . . I’ll try to be patient.”
“Thank you.” She batted her lashes at him. That was false, but she caressed her way up his shoulder and wrapped her fingers around his nape. Under her hands, he felt so very real.
“You’re mine, you know,” he declared, his tone strong and gruff and insistent. “I won’t give up.”
It shouldn’t, but his declaration made her heart flutter.
“Fuck, I can’t stand it. I’ve got to have you, lovely. Mark you as mine somehow. Strip for me.”
Callie tried not to lose her cool. If she gave more of herself to Sean now, the hurt would only be deeper later. Already, she felt so damn close to crumbling that she could barely hold herself together. But she couldn’t deny that she wanted to touch him one last time.
If she couldn’t give him the truth, then she could give him a part of herself. Besides, she had to distract him—fast.
Pulling off her dress, she laid it across the bed. Her champagne lace lingerie followed, and the low moan that came from Sean’s throat echoed with appreciation. She kicked her shoes off next and rolled down her stockings, teasing him with every movement. Callie stared at him over her shoulder, gently wiggling her hips.
“You’re a right heady siren.” He palmed her hip. “Every time I’m near you, I forget everything I should be doing. I can only think about making you mine.”
Callie knew exactly what he meant because he often derailed her better intentions.
Sending a shaky smile his way, she forced herself to stay on track. So she pressed one last kiss to his lips, then sank gracefully to her knees.
“What’s this?” he asked, looking down at her, his eyes heating.
Her stare rocketed up his thighs and lingered at the healthy bulge behind his zipper. She bit her lip, then forced herself to stare straight into his eyes. “Let me serve you.”
Sean sucked in a harsh breath. “Callie . . .”
She didn’t wait for him to refuse or command her to change course. She unbuttoned his trousers, then lowered his zipper with a hiss that throbbed in the silence. Without a word, he shed his jacket and shirt, casting them onto the floor, never taking his stare from her.
After she eased the charcoal trousers off his hips, they fell down his thighs. He kicked his shoes away and stepped out of the pants.
“I shouldn’t be letting you control this,” he said thickly. But that wasn’t stopping him. “I might paddle you for it later.”
Usually, she’d have a saucy answer for him. Today, she just couldn’t scrape one together, not when she was so close to falling apart.
Instead, she peered up at him with her heart in her eyes. “I need to please you right now.”
The hint of disapproval left his face, and he caressed the crown of her head. “I find I’m not very good at saying no to you, lovely.”
The answering smile she sent him perched softly on her lips. “I’m more grateful than you know.”
Before he could say anything more, Callie lowered his dark boxer-briefs down his legs, revealing the thick, long stalk of his cock. At the recollection of it between her lips, inside her hungry sex, her womb clenched. One final time . . . At least it was a small comfort to know that his last memories of her would be of pleasure.
“Suck me, then,” he said.
“Yes, Sir,” she murmured and leaned forward to take him between her lips.
With a long swipe of her tongue, she laved him up the long shaft, over the bulbous head that looked somewhere between blue and purple, then swirled all around until he slid desperate fingers into her hair and moaned low.
Callie closed her eyes and sank into the moment, taking him even deeper inside. She sucked hard, putting all her love and determination into every pass of her lips and curl of her tongue over his hard flesh.
“Hmm.” He rocked a bit on his feet. “Feels so good. You’re making me dizzy.”
“Then I must be doing something right.” And so must the Ambien.
She redoubled her effort, whimpering at the taste of him so hot and potent, growing harder and thicker. Longer. He gripped her hair tight, pulling. The slight sting of pain roused her, as did the musky scent of his skin, pooling with masculine tang in the dips and crooks between his legs. Cupping his heavy testicles, feeling them draw up bit by bit in her palm, she gave herself totally to his pleasure and let his trembling fingers guide her up and down his length until his breath sawed out of his chest. His pants became grunts, each growing louder until he moaned aloud.
“Callie . . .”
Whimpering at his urgency, desperate to feel him explode on her tongue and taste the flavor of his satisfaction, she sucked harder, bathing him with her tongue one last time. Her heart stuttered as his cock pulsed. He grabbed her hair, then gave a hoarse shout of fulfillment.
His hot seed erupted on her tongue, salty and thick. Callie drank him down, digging her nails in his hair-dusted thighs and clinging with every bit of her need.
Why couldn’t this moment go on forever? Why couldn’t she curl up with him on the bed, watching him sleep in sated contentment, and think about what they’d do tomorrow?
Because she could never be Callindra Howe again. She couldn’t even be a woman with a real life.
Slowly, she worked her lips up Sean’s length, looking through her lashes at his flushed face. His chest heaved. His eyes slid closed. Gratification spread across his face.
“Oh, lovely . . .” His voice sounded low and faint. He stumbled on his feet.
Callie jumped to steady him, then eased him onto the bed. He tumbled back, head on her pillow, his breath evening out.
Her time with him was almost over.
“I love you,” he breathed out.
She leaned over him, drinking in his strong, relaxed features, firm lips, hard jaw. She cupped his face. Such a beautiful man . . .
And he’d never really know how much she loved him in return. Since he was moments from sleep, Sean wouldn’t remember anything she said now.
He’d be hurt by her abrupt departure. Callie caressed his face, tears forming and falling. She should be leaving right now, throwing on her dark clothes and shimmying outside, but the thought of tearing herself away voluntarily from this bed—from him—was ripping her chest wide open and splintering her heart.