“Good. While you take care of that, I’ll finish cooking. Then . . . it’s on.”
Absofuckinglutely.
Thorpe strode down the hall, into the first bedroom and its adjoining bath. He found Callie staring in the mirror in the tiny bathroom, peeling off false eyelashes.
“You didn’t wait for me to bring you to the shower.”
She turned to him and raised her chin. “I know where it is. And your ‘fuck off’ demeanor didn’t exactly invite company.”
“You’ve got thirty seconds alone to empty your bladder before your shower. After that, I’m coming in.”
Callie rolled her eyes. “Why? I won’t run again. Where would I go?”
Maybe not, but after her Houdini-like escape from Dominion, followed by his nearly three sleepless days of frantic searching for her, Thorpe wasn’t inclined to let her out of his sight. Besides, Sean had given him this duty, and he wasn’t giving up the chance to look at her naked. “Good to hear. I’m not budging.”
“I can shower alone.”
“But you’re not going to.” He glanced at his watch. “Go. Clock’s ticking.”
“Ugh . . .” She sighed and closed the door in his face. Near the thirty-second mark, he heard the toilet flush and she yanked the little door open. “Happy?”
“Do I seem thrilled, pet? In the past few days, I’ve had almost no sleep or food, and I’m running thin on patience, too. Don’t test me.”
And his bad mood was exacerbated by how ratcheted up he felt. He’d gone to sleep thinking about the moment he could finally slide his bare skin over hers before plunging his cock into her tempting pink pussy and at least pretend that she belonged to him. He’d awakened thinking exactly the same thing. Unless he wanted to torture the fuck out of himself, he’d better quit that line of thinking.
Dismissing that from his mind only left him with the nagging worry about the danger lurking around every unseen corner. It all gnawed at his composure.
“Sorry,” she murmured, casting her gaze to her toes. “Sir.”
“Shower,” he barked.
Callie hesitated. “One question.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. The last damn thing he wanted was a dialogue. Dangerous ground. But he must have a secret masochistic streak. In his book, some contact with Callie was better than none.
“What?”
“Sean has made it very clear why he’s gone out on a limb to help me. But you’ve done so much for me for years. You’ve said that you want me, but . . .”
“Fishing to find out how I feel? After running away from me without a word?” After she’d told Sean that she loved him while he had to listen? “We’ve always been friends—”
“You said last night that we were more.”
A tactical error on his part. His blood had been rushing at the thought of having her in his grasp again, sprawled across his lap for his discipline. Why hadn’t he kept his damn mouth shut?
“Leave it alone, Callie. Shower before Sean finishes your breakfast and it gets cold.”
“I love you,” she choked, her stare all but imploring. “That’s hard for me to say.”
His heart stopped. Joy, hope, love all flooded in—until reality crashed back. He would never be the tender lover she needed and deserved. And Callie was young. She might think that she loved him now, but in a dozen years? He’d be able to join AARP, and she’d still be able to bear children. They would never work. And that was just one of their problems. Someday, she’d realize he wasn’t a good fit for her and leave. If he didn’t stunt things between them now, it would hurt far worse later.
“You’ve had plenty of practice with Sean,” he shot back.
Her chin trembled as she raised it and crossed her arms over her chest. “Why do you always make me feel like some urchin tugging after you for your affection?”
“You have a Dom, Callie. What I feel doesn’t matter.”
“Isn’t that convenient for you? That way, you don’t have to admit that I mean something to you beyond a friend. But you wouldn’t go this far out on a limb for me unless I meant more, despite what you’ve claimed in the past. Every time you’ve kissed me, it wasn’t like a platonic pal. And that certainly wasn’t how it felt when you spanked me or put your tongue on my—”
“What do you want from me?” he growled.
“The truth.”
He pressed his lips in a grim line as he struggled to restrain the urge to grab her and snarl out his love while he filled her cunt full of every hard inch he ached to give her. “This is not open for discussion. Shower. Now.”
“You always avoid me. Oh, discipline me, of course, but don’t talk about your feelings. They’re scary,” she mocked.
“Callie,” he growled, hating how right she was.
She shrugged him off. Sean’s shirt, swimming on her petite form and hanging to her knees, slipped off one shoulder. The long sleeves nearly swallowed her hands. Though she’d rolled back the cuffs, the garment was still huge. But as she eased the buttons from their moorings, Callie peeled the cotton open bit by bit, exposing fair, rosy skin. Finally, she shook it off. The white fabric cascaded down her arms and fell to the floor. She stood before him in a nearly transparent bra and a tiny thong.
Thorpe swallowed. Jesus, Callie killed his self-control. She tested him, pushed him. Did her best to lure him in. Didn’t the girl see that Sean would give her all the tenderness she needed, all the gentle affection he couldn’t?
Her little pink tongue peeked out, wetting her lower lip. His cock jerked. With a challenging stare from beneath her dark lashes, still coated with way too much mascara, she turned to start the shower. Soon, steam filled the little bathroom.
With her back to him, Callie reached behind her to unclasp her lacy, ridiculously sexy bra. It dropped to the floor, and she wriggled out of the thong with an extra sway to her hips. Thorpe’s stare caressed the dark hair that fell in a sleek veil over her fair shoulders, then ended to reveal the exaggerated nip of her waist and flared to the lush curve of her hip. He began to sweat. Her smooth, firm ass—still with a hint of pink from his hand last night—made his cock unbearably hard. He sucked in a harsh breath.
Callie turned her head, lashes fluttering up. She sent him a hurt stare. So sexy. So tempting him. So fucking wrong because unless Sean was beside him, taking Callie with him, he couldn’t touch her.
“Go on. There’s only so much water on this boat. I want some, too.” And he thanked fuck that the stall was barely big enough for one. If it had been roomier and she invited him in . . . Yeah, that would only end with his cock buried in some orifice that he had no right to even be contemplating without Sean’s presence.
Callie stepped in behind the clear Plexiglas and groaned as the hot water cascaded over her soft skin. He watched as she tipped her head back, sluiced water down her throat, her breasts, over her flat abdomen, her thighs. Damn, he needed a distraction.
“Soap?” she murmured.
Right. The toiletries Sean had bought earlier. He’d set the bag somewhere . . . In the bedroom, on the floor, he found the plastic sack and carted it into her. He fished out a scented bar, along with a citrus-scented shampoo and conditioner. Sean had even bought a couple of packs of disposable razors and a few cans of shaving cream.
He started handing items to Callie. She opened the door and took them in silence, then bathed without a word, quickly scrubbing all the makeup from her face and the Glitter Girls grime from her body. She washed her hair, shaved, then basked in the hot water for a minute more. And Thorpe couldn’t take his eyes off her. Something about the girl—no, everything about her—was sexy as hell, and fantasies of spreading her across his bed, restraining her, then indulging in every last pleasure he could think of fried his brain.