3
CALLIE
The touch of his fingers as he tucked my unruly escaped hair behind my ear tingles as I walk upstairs to my little bedroom. I brush my teeth, and I can still feel it. I put on the satin nightdress that’s my indulgence, and get into bed, squirming under the covers, and I can’t think of anything else. He touched my face, and I’ll never ever be the same again.
It’s as though it’s a permanent mark. A brand that makes me his.
It’s been a wild day. Being sort-of kidnapped is odd.
Reid is totally different from what I expected of a mafia boss. Yes, he’s obviously dangerous. But he’s funny. Tender. Much braver than I would be with a horrible wound. Completely determined about what he wants.
And apparently, that’s me. To nurse him. Just to nurse him. After all, he’s way older and probably thinks of me like a daughter, not as a woman.
I stare at the ceiling in the dark, and all I can see is his face.
I’ve not been interested in men. I’ve had offers,but it’s never felt right. Didn’t feel worth the risk of what a trap I saw my parents’ relationship become. A few kisses in bars, and I was left entirely cold.
But one brush of his big fingers over my cheek, and Reid has set me alight. I’m hot between the legs as I remember the look in his eyes. His intensity and focus on me. Just me.
My heart beats faster. That attention from Reid has cracked me open and reached past a barrier, despite the fact I know he’s violent. I think perhaps, because of it. He’s hurt, yes, but he didn’t lash out. And he wears who he is on the outside, and that feels safer than it being hidden, like with my dad.
And Reid’s been very clear this is temporary. I shouldn’t expect anything longer than the time it takes him to heal.
But that doesn’t mean my imagination doesn’t go there.
Because what if when he’d touched my face, I’d been crazy enough to lean in? What if I had put my hand on his knee, and opened my mouth in invitation?
I could have even said something. I have no idea what that would be. Some magic words that would communicate that I think I’d like to know what he feels like all over. How he’d feel between my legs. If he’s as solid as he looks. How far his tattoos extend.
If he’d mind that I’m far more experienced with bloody holes than uh, smuggle the sausage?
In my head, he smiles when I tell him I’m a virgin. He kisses me and pulls me onto his lap. The details of the next parts are fuzzy. But my hand has migrated down, pushing up the hem of my little nightdress, and going to where I’m undeniably wet and buzzing.
Putting two of my fingers together, I circle my clit and imagine they’re Reid’s finger. That he’s whispering in my ear that I’m a good girl, and that I’m doing well. That heholds me to him and tells me I’m his, and that he’ll never let me go.
I don’t allow myself to examine this vision. I just hear his words and fantasise. I feel that his cock is hard against me, and rub my clit.
It’s embarrassingly fast.
The thought of Reid and the denial of what I’m doing tips me over within a minute or so. A short flare of pleasure.
4
REID
The night isn’t great. My men managed to get my bed up and into one of the rooms at the top of the house, but the shower is crap and awkward, and my arm hurts like a bitch as soon as I lay down. I think about Callie—my little captive nurse—and feel the pain blooming, until eventually sleep catches up with me.
The morning isn’t much of an improvement, except that coffee helps everything. I’m up early, before Callie. My arm is agony, but I try to ignore it and get some shit done. There are a ton of reports from my men, all in messages and voice notes that I read and listen to on my computer. Jack would sort and deliver them to me as a single document if I asked—and often does that—but there’s something good about hearing directly from the source.
It seems Loughton is in flux. His two sons appear to have taken over, but they’ve got the same number of brain cells as ears, so I don’t expect that to last long. I suppose I should feel satisfied that we came out better in a fight they started, but the death of my medic sitsheavy on my shoulders, along with the other men, thankfully not many, I’ve lost over the years.
Apparently, the general mood of people in the Loughton and Woodford territories after this incident is impatience with the squabbling of the mafias, and I can’t say I blame them. I breathe out, frustrated. We need to sort this. I’m running through the options with increasing irritation when Callie’s soft footsteps on the stairs alert me that she’s awake.
My mood instantly lifts.
She looks at me warily. Her hair is down, and it’s stunning. Long waves that make my cock twitch as I imagine wrapping that silk around my fist and using her hair to hold her still as I fuck her hard. She’s in jeans and T-shirt, and looks very relaxed compared to my usual suit. I need to bring some jeans from home to this house so I match her style.
Then she notices me, and she’s the sun breaking through the clouds. A nervous sun. She bites her lip and her eyes go wide as she sees me at the table, my laptop and phone laid before me, and my suit jacket slung over the back of my chair.
