His face seems carved in stone.
“And by the way, how did they make you say yes to my mother? If I know anything about my family, they didn’t leave anything to chance?”
A few moments pass before he snaps out of his paralysis, reaches to his right, grabs a towel, and tosses it at me.
“Here. We’re done talking.”
With that, he turns and heads to the door.
“No, no." I rush after him. "You can’t leave me here like this. I need clothes. I don’t want anyone to think that something bad has happened to me.”
He almost huffs as he pulls to a stop and picks up his phone from his pocket.
He makes a call, and someone answers right away.
“Go to Nona and ask her to give you a couple of dresses for Lani.”
I almost faint.
Lani?
This man just called me Lani? This is the name people like Rory call me. There aren’t that many people like her.
Lani.
It sounds like a magic spell.
Who is he talking to?
It can’t be his friend, Paxton. I don’t see Callum talking to him like that. He gives the person more directions beforeturning to me with a dark expression on his face, and I brace myself for the worst part of this evening.
18
CALLUM
Long strandsof wet hair are still stuck to her flushed cheeks and neck, while shivers claim her shoulders.
As much as I keep my eyes on her face, not fully focused, I’m perfectly aware of the map of pleasure stretching from her chin down.
Taking her in with the tarnished edges of my awareness, I become aware of the root of her neck, the elegant arching of her clavicles, and the smooth path to her breasts.
Her touching her breasts makes me feel their weight as if my hands form cups around them.
As if they sleep protected by my touch.
She’s like a blooming flower caught in a pelting rain, her eyes waves of glass against a final shore, her eyebrows little caterpillars. Her heart a butterfly.
Insufferable beautiful woman, her beauty stemming from the alchemy of the damned. Someone is going to break their neck for her, and I hope it won’t be me.
She holds her towel against her chest too, unable or unwilling to pat herself dry. I move my eyes to the vanity, and my hand follows suit.
A moment later, I drape my suit jacket over her shoulders and head to the door, but not before inviting her to use the towel.
As much as I’d like to say she looks funny wearing my suit jacket, having my coat over her shoulders makes her even more sexy. My fingers burn to reach her cheeks and brush away her wet hair.
And then the unavoidable happens.
My eyes dip, and she catches that.
