A challenge burned in her eyes, wild and reckless, daring me to take this further, topush.
So I did.
She tried to sit back, tried to slow it down, but fuck that. I hooked an arm around her waist and yanked her flush against me again, swallowing her gasp as I sucked her bottom lip between my teeth.
Her nails dug into my shoulders, knees spreading wider instinctively so she could sit lower in my lap, and my hands found her thighs once more, sliding higher, feeling the heat of her through the thin material of her skirt.
Our breathing rasped, loud enough to drown out everything around us. I’d kissed women before—too many, if I was being honest—but this wasn’t the same. This wasn’t just the heat of the moment or the pent-up tension that had been building between us for months or the memories of one drunken night two weeks ago.
The way she pressed against me, like she finally let the world slip away, left me reeling. Her lips tasted like sinful temptation, and I didn’t know how to make sense of what she’d just done to me. I stared up at her, searching for something—anything—in her expression that would help me understand why this felt different. Whyshefelt different.
She shifted in my lap, just a little, just enough—fuck. My hands gripped her tighter, barely keeping her still so I didn’t come in my fucking pants. Her thighs clenched around me, her breath breaking into uneven gasps as my fingers slid higher. She felt it too—the pull, the build, the goddamn collapse.
“Callum—” Her voice was barely more than a whimper, and I swear to God, it made me even harder.
“I know, baby,” I murmured against her lips. “I know.”
Her gaze met mine, wide and searching, like she was just as stunned as I was. And in that moment, the burden of everything else disappeared. There was only us, and the undeniable certainty that whatever had just happened, it wasn’t something we could walk away from.
I finally felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.
I wasn’t just chasing a win. I’d already found the one thing worth losing everything for.
Callum’sgripon my waist anchored me to the now—naughty and magnetic, like he could unravel me if only I let him.
My heart slammed against my ribs, echoing the frantic energy of the race I couldn’t finish earlier. Only this wasn’t frustration—it was heat and desire, pure and unrelenting, pooling in my chest, my clit, my belly, my fingertips until it was all I felt.
I should climb off him. I should put distance between us before this went too far. But the way he looked at me—like I was the only thing in the world worth touching—made my head spin.
And I wanted it. I wanted it so fucking bad. I’d been thinking about this since Miami.
Who was I kidding? I’d been thinking about it for years. Wondering what it would be like to be fucked, to be wanted by the reveredCallum Fraser. So hell no, I wasn’t walking away tonight.
His hands moved to my thighs, fingers flexing. His cock pressed hard against where I ached for him, thick and unforgiving—and I knew, if I rolled my hips just once?—
No.
Fuck.
I might come.
I physically stopped myself. I couldn’t lose it inthe middle of a fucking bar. The shadows blurred the world around us, softening his sharp jaw and kiss-bitten mouth. We were in our own universe, one where nothing else mattered but this moment.
I swallowed hard, my gaze dropping to watch his hands slide up to rest on my hips. His thumbs brushed slow circles over my skirt, a gesture so subtle it felt like a secret, like he was just testing how much I could take.
He knew exactly what I wanted but was making me beg for it.
I could still feel last time. Miami. He’d fucked me like a man possessed, like he had to, like it was inevitable. Then he’d collapsed after, laughing like no matter what I did, I couldn’t escape him.
I’d kicked him out then. I ran like I always did. But not tonight. Tonight, I was taking what I wanted.
I burned for him, heat spreading through me like wildfire. I wanted his hands under my clothes, caressing me,worshippingme, making me come until I couldn’t walk straight.
Most of all, I wanted skin to skin contact, to just let all of our inhibitions go and forget about all the complications this could create—the rumors, the stupid social media edits and posts.
I forced myself to breathe, to find a sliver of control in the chaos of my thoughts. But time felt distorted, the world around us ceasing to exist, and that made it feel impossible to be rational. “Callum,” I whispered, my voice catching, barely recognizable as mine.
Instead of speaking, he just waited, his gaze searching mine for something—permission, maybe, or the answer to a question neither of us had voiced yet.
