I turn off the light. I think of Callan’s gorgeous smile and the sexy movements of his tongue when he kisses me on the mouth and, well, when he kisses me anywhere, really. He’s so hot. Addictive. God, he’s such a beautiful man, it’s not fair to be tempted like this.
I punch my pillow into shape and burrow my cheek in it, trying to get some sleep.
Has anything preceding this moment compared to the excitement I feel for this date?
You’d think it was my first date. It’s not.
But my nerves are ridiculous.
It’s just the first date with a guy who makes my knees weak and my heart literally throb. Urgh. My Hot Smoker Guy makes my breath slow down until it’s nonexistent, or speed up until I’m basically panting for him.
This is a big no-no, I know. But my body doesn’t get it!
I have spent practically the whole day getting ready for tonight. I went to get my nails done after barely even having breakfast because I was so nervous and excited I didn’t feel hungry. I also got a bikini wax. I was tempted to wax it all off, but remembering how Callan seemed to like me natural, I left a nice little landing strip on my you-know-what.
I then mentally rummaged through my closet for the perfect outfit and decided to go lingerie shopping. Lace, satin, ruffles, sequins, patterns, strings, and bows called out to me from all corners of the boutique lingerie store.
I finally settled on a matching bra and pantie set that I was sure would drive Callan crazy. I wanted something sexy but effortlessly so.
When I got home, I tried on the black lace thong that I got with a lovely satin bow on the back, and the black bra with lace detail on the cups. The black makes my skin look smooth and decadent, and I knew I looked good.
Hell, I looked more than good. I got all giddy and danced around my apartment in my new lingerie to sexy music, letting my mind wander to tonight, and how I hoped it would end . . .
Noticing the naughty path my thoughts were taking, I took off the lingerie because I didn’t want to ruin it with how, ehm . . . excited I was getting. Already!
I tried to entertain myself the rest of the day until it was time to get ready. I watched some mindless TV and tried to do some things for work, but nothing could get my mind off tonight.
I had woken up that morning with a text from Callan (I figured it was time I changed his name on my contacts), and the way my stomach felt when I saw his name for the first time, really, on my phone screen is indescribable. Butterflies would be an understatement; let’s just leave it at that.
I’d been trying hard to keep it just business—but underlying the business there were always these looks.
This want.
It’s become unbearable.
The text said to be ready by seven thirty, and that he would pick me up at my place.
When the clock struck six, I finally decided to start getting ready. I got in the shower and soaped up until I smelled amazing all over.
I got out of the shower and dry-brushed my skin, and then put on some moisturizer before wrapping myself in my short bathrobe and proceeding to blow-dry my hair.
Ten minutes later, my hair was dry and silky straight. I did my makeup and put on a pair of diamond earrings that my grandma had given me when I turned twenty, and walked into my closet. I decided to wear a red satin dress that flowed around my knees, though the material plastered itself to my breasts and the tops of my thighs whenever I walked. So it was the perfect combination of elegant and sexy. I finished it off with a thin necklace and strappy heels.
The whole time I was getting ready, I kept sneaking glances in the mirror and I was amazed by what I saw looking back at me.
I’m still shocked by what I see as I apply the finishing touches to my lips. I am basically glowing. My eyes are bright, my skin looks smooth, the dress looks like it was made for me, and the smile on my face reflects everything I feel inside.
Which is overwhelming, giddy excitement.
I’m tucking my lipstick and makeup into a small clutch purse when the doorbell rings. My heart trips in my chest as I start for the door. I take a deep breath and turn the knob.
And standing in front of me is the most delectable man on this planet.
Gulp!
Dressed in slim black slacks and a dark gray shirt, the man looks like the deadliest guilty pleasure.
He takes his time drinking me in with a burning warmth in his copper eyes, starting at the tip of my head and traveling to my lips, my breasts, my stomach, and the tips of my freshly painted toes.
I hear him inhale sharply, and the gaze I am met with when he finally meets my eyes steals my next breath.
I see pure, unrestrained lust, and a glimmer of something else. Something possessive. Something feral, something forbidden.
I feel like a switch went off in his head, I feel like his eyes hold a promise in them.
“Olivia,” he says. Low.
“Callan.”
He smirks, then takes two steps toward me and puts his hands on my waist, pulling me to him and wrapping me up in his intoxicating and delicious smell. He looks down at me and whispers something under his breath.
The next thing I know, he dips his head and places his warm, smooth lips on my neck. He kisses and rubs them across my neck, and I can feel my legs turn to Jell-O. His hand cradles the side of my face as his lips travel to my cheek, where he whispers in my ear, “You look good enough to eat.”
“Thank you,” I breathe.
“You ready?”
I’m about as ready as can be. I nod. “So we’re doing this.” I laugh nervously. I duck my head. “Just one date, okay?”
“One date for now.” He gently runs his thumb along my lower lip. A rueful smile curves his mouth. “Did you think I only wanted to sleep with you, Livvy?” he asks.
I swallow.
“Was that what you thought I was asking for?”
I’m breathless and flushed, because maybe I did think that.
He moves his hand as if ready to brush my hair back, but instead he peers into my face. “That’s not what I want from you. I like you too much. I enjoy being with you.” He leans closer and absently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m enjoying that shy little pink shade on your cheeks quite a bit right now.”
I smile and eye him. “Where are we going?”
“Depends on whether we make it out of here. It’s taking every ounce of my willpower not to take you back into your bedroom and bury my head between your legs.”
I suck in a sudden startled breath. “Callan!” I lightly smack his shoulder.
He takes the hand that smacked him and looks me in the eye, his stare unapologetic as he kisses my knuckles. He grins. “Come on.”
He leads me to the elevator and down to his car.
He drives us in his Range Rover Sport while I silently rationalize my actions.
Callan seems at ease with what’s about to happen, while I sit in a mess of hormones on the front passenger seat.
He drums his fingers as we’re stuck at a stoplight for a while. “Fucking traffic,” he growls. He lifts his thumb to my face and traces a dent in my cheekbone with his knuckle. “What are you thinking?”
“You know what,” I groan.
He smiles. He’s not as calm as I think he is, his eyes blazing with hunger. I have never enjoyed a feeling the way I enjoy the way he makes me feel. Grown up, but vulnerable like a little girl. Thrilled but almost scared, as I am when I get too close to the ledge. Warm in all places and like my body got plugged into an electric outlet. My nipples hard, my panties wet.
“I sometimes wonder if I imagined everything that happened the other nights. I’m not sure you’re really as good as my memories claim.”
“I’m better.” He smiles and shoots me an intent stare. “I’m looking forward to tasting you this time, Livvy, sucking that pussy of yours for a long, hard while.”
“Oral?”
“That’s right. It’s driving me crazy not to know what you taste like.”
I clutch my thighs together.
Goodness!
I’m boiling in my skin.
His Range Rover Sport is all man. Smooth, dark leather and an engine that sounds like a monster ready to be unleashed. It’s the kind of car that he tampered with to make fully his—with modifications like a matte finish and a different grille and custom wheels.
I punch my pillow into shape and burrow my cheek in it, trying to get some sleep.
Has anything preceding this moment compared to the excitement I feel for this date?
You’d think it was my first date. It’s not.
But my nerves are ridiculous.
It’s just the first date with a guy who makes my knees weak and my heart literally throb. Urgh. My Hot Smoker Guy makes my breath slow down until it’s nonexistent, or speed up until I’m basically panting for him.
This is a big no-no, I know. But my body doesn’t get it!
I have spent practically the whole day getting ready for tonight. I went to get my nails done after barely even having breakfast because I was so nervous and excited I didn’t feel hungry. I also got a bikini wax. I was tempted to wax it all off, but remembering how Callan seemed to like me natural, I left a nice little landing strip on my you-know-what.
I then mentally rummaged through my closet for the perfect outfit and decided to go lingerie shopping. Lace, satin, ruffles, sequins, patterns, strings, and bows called out to me from all corners of the boutique lingerie store.
I finally settled on a matching bra and pantie set that I was sure would drive Callan crazy. I wanted something sexy but effortlessly so.
When I got home, I tried on the black lace thong that I got with a lovely satin bow on the back, and the black bra with lace detail on the cups. The black makes my skin look smooth and decadent, and I knew I looked good.
Hell, I looked more than good. I got all giddy and danced around my apartment in my new lingerie to sexy music, letting my mind wander to tonight, and how I hoped it would end . . .
Noticing the naughty path my thoughts were taking, I took off the lingerie because I didn’t want to ruin it with how, ehm . . . excited I was getting. Already!
I tried to entertain myself the rest of the day until it was time to get ready. I watched some mindless TV and tried to do some things for work, but nothing could get my mind off tonight.
I had woken up that morning with a text from Callan (I figured it was time I changed his name on my contacts), and the way my stomach felt when I saw his name for the first time, really, on my phone screen is indescribable. Butterflies would be an understatement; let’s just leave it at that.
I’d been trying hard to keep it just business—but underlying the business there were always these looks.
This want.
It’s become unbearable.
The text said to be ready by seven thirty, and that he would pick me up at my place.
When the clock struck six, I finally decided to start getting ready. I got in the shower and soaped up until I smelled amazing all over.
I got out of the shower and dry-brushed my skin, and then put on some moisturizer before wrapping myself in my short bathrobe and proceeding to blow-dry my hair.
Ten minutes later, my hair was dry and silky straight. I did my makeup and put on a pair of diamond earrings that my grandma had given me when I turned twenty, and walked into my closet. I decided to wear a red satin dress that flowed around my knees, though the material plastered itself to my breasts and the tops of my thighs whenever I walked. So it was the perfect combination of elegant and sexy. I finished it off with a thin necklace and strappy heels.
The whole time I was getting ready, I kept sneaking glances in the mirror and I was amazed by what I saw looking back at me.
I’m still shocked by what I see as I apply the finishing touches to my lips. I am basically glowing. My eyes are bright, my skin looks smooth, the dress looks like it was made for me, and the smile on my face reflects everything I feel inside.
Which is overwhelming, giddy excitement.
I’m tucking my lipstick and makeup into a small clutch purse when the doorbell rings. My heart trips in my chest as I start for the door. I take a deep breath and turn the knob.
And standing in front of me is the most delectable man on this planet.
Gulp!
Dressed in slim black slacks and a dark gray shirt, the man looks like the deadliest guilty pleasure.
He takes his time drinking me in with a burning warmth in his copper eyes, starting at the tip of my head and traveling to my lips, my breasts, my stomach, and the tips of my freshly painted toes.
I hear him inhale sharply, and the gaze I am met with when he finally meets my eyes steals my next breath.
I see pure, unrestrained lust, and a glimmer of something else. Something possessive. Something feral, something forbidden.
I feel like a switch went off in his head, I feel like his eyes hold a promise in them.
“Olivia,” he says. Low.
“Callan.”
He smirks, then takes two steps toward me and puts his hands on my waist, pulling me to him and wrapping me up in his intoxicating and delicious smell. He looks down at me and whispers something under his breath.
The next thing I know, he dips his head and places his warm, smooth lips on my neck. He kisses and rubs them across my neck, and I can feel my legs turn to Jell-O. His hand cradles the side of my face as his lips travel to my cheek, where he whispers in my ear, “You look good enough to eat.”
“Thank you,” I breathe.
“You ready?”
I’m about as ready as can be. I nod. “So we’re doing this.” I laugh nervously. I duck my head. “Just one date, okay?”
“One date for now.” He gently runs his thumb along my lower lip. A rueful smile curves his mouth. “Did you think I only wanted to sleep with you, Livvy?” he asks.
I swallow.
“Was that what you thought I was asking for?”
I’m breathless and flushed, because maybe I did think that.
He moves his hand as if ready to brush my hair back, but instead he peers into my face. “That’s not what I want from you. I like you too much. I enjoy being with you.” He leans closer and absently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m enjoying that shy little pink shade on your cheeks quite a bit right now.”
I smile and eye him. “Where are we going?”
“Depends on whether we make it out of here. It’s taking every ounce of my willpower not to take you back into your bedroom and bury my head between your legs.”
I suck in a sudden startled breath. “Callan!” I lightly smack his shoulder.
He takes the hand that smacked him and looks me in the eye, his stare unapologetic as he kisses my knuckles. He grins. “Come on.”
He leads me to the elevator and down to his car.
He drives us in his Range Rover Sport while I silently rationalize my actions.
Callan seems at ease with what’s about to happen, while I sit in a mess of hormones on the front passenger seat.
He drums his fingers as we’re stuck at a stoplight for a while. “Fucking traffic,” he growls. He lifts his thumb to my face and traces a dent in my cheekbone with his knuckle. “What are you thinking?”
“You know what,” I groan.
He smiles. He’s not as calm as I think he is, his eyes blazing with hunger. I have never enjoyed a feeling the way I enjoy the way he makes me feel. Grown up, but vulnerable like a little girl. Thrilled but almost scared, as I am when I get too close to the ledge. Warm in all places and like my body got plugged into an electric outlet. My nipples hard, my panties wet.
“I sometimes wonder if I imagined everything that happened the other nights. I’m not sure you’re really as good as my memories claim.”
“I’m better.” He smiles and shoots me an intent stare. “I’m looking forward to tasting you this time, Livvy, sucking that pussy of yours for a long, hard while.”
“Oral?”
“That’s right. It’s driving me crazy not to know what you taste like.”
I clutch my thighs together.
Goodness!
I’m boiling in my skin.
His Range Rover Sport is all man. Smooth, dark leather and an engine that sounds like a monster ready to be unleashed. It’s the kind of car that he tampered with to make fully his—with modifications like a matte finish and a different grille and custom wheels.
