Cause of death: Callum Fraser.
“I’ll admit, I have a tendency to push the limits.” His hand moved to toy with the edge of my tank top, brushing the bare skin under. I was so fucking horny, so desperate and definitely buzzed. He was everywhere all at once and I was losing track of the game. “But I also know when to slow down and savor the moment.”
“And do you like to take risks?”
A slow smile spread across his face, the one that made his dimple pop out. “Those worth the effort.”
“So you think you’re capable of handling me?”
“When it comes to you, all I can think about is how I can’t wait to memorize every inch of your skin, taste you, and possess you.”
“Can you handle someone who gives as good as they get?” I whispered.
“I’ve never met a woman who could outmatch me in the bedroom,” he said confidently. “But I’m always up for a challenge.”
I pressed a light kiss to his jaw, whispering, “I’m not easy, Fraser. You’re going to have to work for it.”
He huffed a laugh, and I raised my head. “I’m not afraid of a little hard work.”
I closed the small distance and kissed him, bracing myself with a hand on the nape of his neck as I tucked my knees under me. He groaned, opening his mouth so our tongues could entwine, and another rush of wetness gushed through my panties.
I pressed my thighs together in a futile attempt to ease the ache. I was going to combust at any moment.
He pulled back and fixed a sizzling stare on me. “One last question.”
I arched an eyebrow, daring him despite the fact that my head was reeling out of this world. “Make it good.”
“What are you hoping happens tonight?” he asked, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.
I looked away. “I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice barely audible.
“Yes, you do,” he countered, his hand cupping my chin and turning my face back toward him. In that moment, I was his, and unable to resist the pull.
The moment stretched. I didn’t answer, not with words. Instead, I stood, straightening my clothes. My hand slipped into his as I pulled him toward the exit of the bar, ignoring the patrons.
“Let’s find out,” I said, my heart pounding as we stepped into the elevator, the world around us still a hazy blur. I couldn’t wait another minute to explore this.
He yanked me against him, his voice a low growl as he said, “Last chance to back out, love.”
Was this reckless? Absolutely. But for once, I didn’t care about tomorrow or the whispers this might stir. Tonight, I just wanted to feel—tolive—without worrying about the consequences.
I glanced upat him, and the way he looked at me—like I was the only thing in the world he couldn’t lose—made me feel invincible and vulnerable all at once.
“Not a chance in hell.”
Someone steppedinto the elevator on the second-to-last floor, forcing a breath of distance between us—just enough to keep me from climbing him like a tree. When we slid to a stop moments later onCallum’sfloor, I wondered how we’d determined we were going to his room. He probably did it so I couldn’t kick him out again.
Cheeky bastard.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me down the hall like he already knew exactly how this night would end. The second the door clicked shut, everything else evaporated—noise, logic, restraint. His hands were on me in an instant, rough and insistent, pulling me against the hard planes of his body. Heat surged through me as his mouth crashed onto mine, fierce and claiming, lighting me up so fast I forgot my own fucking name.
“Callum—” I gasped when his lips left mine, trailing fire down my neck. Whatever I meant to say melted into a moan the second he found that spot just beneath my ear.
“Shhh, love,” he murmured against my neck, his voice all velvet and vice, curling down my spine like a shiver that didn’t stop. His hands roamed over my back, deft fingers slipping beneath the hem of my tank top, seeking the warmth of my bare skin, goosebumps eruptingfrom his touch.
My clutch hit the floor with a dull thud, forgotten as he backed me deeper into the room. The windows gleamed in the dim light, mirroring our frantic movements, how we couldn't keep our hands off each other. My ass hit the edge of the desk, items clattering at the impact.
“Desk,” I gasped—half-warning, half-plea.
