“I’m having breakfast with your family in a few short minutes, and I spent a lot of time making my hair look like this.” I hadn’t wanted to risk using his hair products without a hair dryer or styling products to use afterward, so I’d had to work with what I had.
His gaze flicked over the smooth, low bun into which I’d tamed my crazy, sex-mussed hair. The wicked smile turned positively evil. “You can fix it after.”
My back hit the wall displaying all his shoes and watches, and I realized he’d been backing me up this whole time. My hand had softened against his chest, so I wasn’t so much holding him back as softly stroking the space between his pecs.
This man was a danger to society. And by society, I meant me.
I ducked under his bare arm and ran toward the bedroom. “No way. It’s bad enough that they’re seeing me like this and they’re going to know what we did. It’s bad enough that I’m meeting them wearing your shirt. I’m not going down there looking like I just got the daylights screwed out of me.”
“But that’s when you look the prettiest,” Cal teased, leaning against the closet doorway. He dropped the towel. He was hard as stone.
My breath caught, but I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. “Put some clothes on, Mr. Frost.”
His chuckle was low and velvety, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I opened my eyes to see he’d disappeared into the closet. When he came out fully clothed, I had to admit there was a part of me that was disappointed.
Then he smiled at me and leaned down to press a tender kiss to my lips. “I like that you care about making a good impression onmy family,” he murmured. His fingers stroked my cheek as he pulled away, his eyes warm with affection.
My heart cartwheeled. He was irresistible when he was domineering and seductive, but this? Tender, loving, affectionate?
This was a version of Cal that could destroy me.
He tangled his fingers in mine and held me tight, then led me downstairs to where his sister and niece awaited.
TWENTY-SIX
CALLUM
The beastwithin me felt settled and satisfied as I walked through my home with Deena. She was wearing my clothes and carrying my scent—from sleeping in my bed and washing in my shower. She looked lovely, and I walked as if in a dream. Was life supposed to feel this good?
We were on the stairs heading toward the kitchen when Deena spoke. “So…what’s the plan?”
She let go of my hand to take the banister, so I put my own hand on the small of her back. “For what?”
“What are we telling your sister about us?”
“The truth.”
Deena’s gaze slid over to mine. Her brows arched. “Which is?”
I’m in love with you, and I’m never letting you go. I swallowed back that particular truth and gave her a tamer version: “We’re together.”
Spots of red bloomed on the apples of her cheeks, and she dipped her chin. “Okay.”
“Does that bother you?”
“No, it’s just…”
“It’s just what, Deena?” I prompted when she trailed off.
“I’m nervous,” she admitted, then let out a little laugh. “That’s all. The last time I met a guy’s family, I was twenty-two and trying to avoid going home for Christmas.”
The urge to discover who she was dating a decade ago just so I could make sure he never went anywhere near her rose up within me, and I squashed it—with difficulty. She was here now. With me. That was all that mattered.
“They already love you,” I reminded her.
“They barely know me,” she protested, then clamped her lips shut as we turned the corner and entered the kitchen.
Lila sat at the island, her feet dangling as she worked on another drawing. Erica looked up from her cup of green tea, a smile spreading over her lips when she saw us.
