“Callie.” He touches the fingertip of his uninjured arm to my chin, and I gasp like a maiden in a Regency romance seeing something forbidden from behind lace curtains. Buthe’s so gentle as he guides my face to look into his. “I want to feel.”
I have no idea why my brain goes to filthy places from his words. But “want” and “feel” and my name, they conspire to make my body ignite. It makes me think of me on his lap, both of us naked, him inside me, his big hands cupping my breasts, his mouth on mine.
Between my legs, I melt.
“Okay,” I whisper, and it’s the most horny little sound. I’m pathetic for this man. He nods and lets my chin go.
My heart aches as I carefully remove the bandage, and wash out the angry red flesh.
He watches me silently.
“It’s healing well.” I’m glad, I am. Honestly. Even though it’s shortening the amount of time we have in this weird space of being together. “I think the scar isn’t going to be too bad.”
“I usually put a tattoo over them.”
This has happened enough times that he has a “usual” thing that he does about bullet wound scars. We really couldn’t be more different. Me, with my cautious little life. Him, keeping doing his job even though he’s been shot multiple times. I’ve been scared of getting close to any man for fear they’d be like my father. Violent.
Reid has brutality in his life, but he’s delicate with me. I love being near him. The security I feel is surprising, given he’s a mafia boss, far bigger than me, and sometimes when he looks at me, it’s with the expression of a hungry wolf.
I pack the wound this time, my gloved fingertips lingering on his skin. There’s something about this man that makes me want to touch him.
And I think, when there’s a clean dressing and bandage on his arm, and he catches me with that penetrating gaze, that he knows it too.
9
REID
When Callie looks at me like that it takes all my strength not to pull her onto my lap and cover her mouth with mine. Instead, I thank her for tending my wound, and retire to a scalding shower and my hand. I stand under the spray, and indulge in it, appreciating the upgrade from the trickle in a tiny cubicle when I first moved into Callie’s house. The water is hot, and I allow myself to relax.
Closing my eyes, I can imagine that Callie is here with me.
Mentally, I strip off her clothes, as I have every day since we met. Those jeans and tops that hide gorgeous little curves that would fit so beautifully in my hands. I want to be good enough for her so much I’ve even bought jeans to wear here.
The need to touch her is overwhelming. Getting more intense every day.
I had the standard experiences of younger life, thinking I had to, and that it would make me a man. I hated it, even as I orgasmed. I realised pretty quickly that the things thatdefined me as man were my decisions. My integrity, my risks, and my judgement.
No one cared that I didn’t want women all over me when I kept them safe and brought in money. Even when I mis-stepped, I learned that an honest apology and generous compensation went much further than fists.
And I stopped allowing anyone to touch me. My men all know that, and keep their distance.
But Callie would be different. Those pretty eyes. Her hair, swept back out of her face. Her smile could knock-out forty-seven elephants from seventy yards. The way her fingers were light and gentle on my skin, even as she taped a bandage on.
Inevitably, my cock has hardened. I want this woman so much.
“Callie.” I say her name aloud, and my voice is tortured. I can’t help it.
My hand slides down to my cock, gripping the length, then pulling up to the sensitive head. I groan. It feels good. Really, really good.
I squeeze my eyes shut tighter.
If I swapped hands, it would feel unfamiliar and I could imagine that it’s Callie’s hand. Before I can stop myself, I’ve gone to do that, and give a hard grunt of pain at both the movement and the water soaking my bandage.
“Fuck!” Agony spikes my arm, and my cock is bursting. I’ve progressed from slightly turned-on to on the edge, from nothing. Just a few strokes of my hand and the filthy imagination that I should keep under control.
“Reid!” The door to the bathroom flies open and Callie is there, her dark hair in disarray, her eyes panicked and wild. She’s wearing a tiny nightdress that barely covers herbottom, and the thin straps leave her gorgeous tits almost entirely visible. “Are you okay? What happened?”
I stare at her.
