13
Cate
The room explodesin a cloud of rosy red lust when Callum finishes, so thick it almost chokes me. His response is so strong, I could easily tug his emotions in any direction I wanted. And I should, I should be twisting and turning, wringing every drop of pleasure and using it to my advantage.
I could make him fall in love with me with barely a twinge.
But I don’t.
I promised him I wouldn’t manipulate him without his consent—a lie—but now I can’t imagine breaking my word.
I saw how he reacted at the orphanage; I watched him interact with Amelia, really listen to what she had to say. She conveyed more than enough to me with a single look in that entryway before we left. He listened. He cared.
It’s why I brought him back here, why I stripped myself bare—of clothing at least—to remind us both why we are here, what this all really is.
The way he pulls away from me a mere second after finishingmakes me think he doesn’t have much faith in my promise to not manipulate him without his consent. I try not to let that sting.
He buttons his pants and disappears behind the privacy screen. I hear the faucet turn on and I prop myself on my elbows, trying to catch a glimpse of him. I tell myself it’s to keep my eye on him, but really, I just hate seeing him run away.
When he comes back, he has a damp towel in one hand and my robe in the other. He gently cleans my exposed skin, so tender it stops the breath in my chest. It’s becoming a common occurrence when I’m in his presence.
“I’m sorry, my lady.” He places the lightest of kisses on my stomach before rising and striding across the room like he can’t get away from me fast enough. Callum Reid is one giant mass of contradictions.
I stand, slipping into the robe and knotting it at my waist. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Callum.”
“I shouldn’t have done that”—he gestures helplessly to the bed—“without your express permission.”
I cross the room to him, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Nothing that just happened was without my consent, Callum.”
The look in his gorgeous blue eyes is nothing short of tortured. “I think I should go.”
“Okay.” I don’t know why it burns, his constant need to put space between us, but it does. I shake my head, as if that can help clear from my brain the notion that Callum is anything more than a client. In reality he’s nothing more than a mark. Just because he listened to Amelia doesn’t automatically make him a good man, a good person. It certainly doesn’t make him anything more than the means to an end for me.
He cups my cheek in his hand. “Is it okay with you if I come back tonight?”
I raise one eyebrow and force myself not to lean into his touch. “You’ll be ready for another lesson in just a few hours?”
His hand moves to grasp the nape of my neck and his eyes fall closed as if he can’t bear to look at me. “I’m ready for another lesson right now, my lady.”
“Then why don’t you stay?” I ask softly, before I can think of all the reasons why he shouldn’t.
“I have some things I need to take care of. But I will be back.” He presses his lips to my forehead before closing the distance to the door with a few long strides.
I lean in the doorway, watching him depart, pretending like I’m only interested in the view of his impressive backside as he walks away. In reality, I’m wondering why it feels like a piece of me is walking away with him. I reach an absent-minded hand up to rub at the ache in my chest.
Meri whistles; she and Bianca are striding down the hallway just in time to watch Callum leave. The two join me at my perch. “Who, may I ask, is that fine human specimen and why have I never seen him before?”
I gesture for them to join me in my room. It’s still early evening, but I pour myself a whisky anyway. I need it. “That is Callum Reid.”
Bianca shoots me a wary look, perching on the edge of my bed, but she doesn’t say anything. She knows more about my arrangement with Callum than anyone, but she still doesn’t know the whole truth of it.
Meri’s eyes widen as she slides into one of my chairs. “Wait, you’re telling me that incredible-looking man is the Prince of Scota?”
“Former Prince of Scota.” I down my first glass and pour another, limiting myself to just these two. Apparently I need to be ready to “teach” again in just a few hours. The prospect stirs a confusing swirl of emotions in my chest.
“He is visiting you in the middle of the day now?” Worry lines Bianca’s voice. I wonder if she is fearful of his motives, or mine.
“He did pay me for a week of my time.”
