Page 35 of Last Resort

“Excuse me?” I stumble over the words in disbelief.

“For the record, I’m better than my brothers.”

Jesus. The fact that I didn’t know it was him is eating at him. Good. At least something about this whole situation bugs him.

“Calling would have been a mistake,” he continues when I don’t speak.

“And why’s that?”

“Because you would have ended up beneath me—or on top, I’m not picky—and I believe that would have been worse than me not calling.”

I swear to God my nipples harden at his words. Words I don’t want to be a slave to but that my body is nonetheless. “I’m not a plaything, Callahan. Especially not yours.”

He emits a soft chuckle. “Oh, I’m aware.”

“You weren’t going to tell me you were Johnnie, were you?” He angles his head and stares, surprising me when he gives the subtlest of nods in response. “That says everything I need to know.”

“Maybe I was trying to do the right thing,” he murmurs.

“I have a feeling you don’t think much about right or wrong most times, so why start now?” My words are out of my mouth before I even realize my thoughts have been voiced. They’re a taunt to him. A challenge.

And I just opened the door for him to take it. For him to prove that right or wrong, if he wants me, he’ll pursue me.

Isn’t him sitting here in my villa proof of that?

I told myself I couldn’t do this. That if Callahan was Johnnie, I’d have to keep my libido and desire on lockdown.

But now that I’m standing here in the lion’s den, every bone in my body wants what I’ve told myself I can’t have.

“There you go making assumptions again,” he says.

I take a step closer. “I know you like to play with power. That’s not an assumption.”

“No?”

“Like I said, you had three days to pick up your phone and call me. To have us start out on a professional footing. You didn’t. That says you wanted me on edge, not knowing. You wanted a toy you could bat around when you felt the need to play.”

He moves for the first time, setting down his drink and rising from his chair. “I was going to forget you.” He undoes one cuff on his shirt and folds the sleeve up his forearm. “I was going to let this play out so that you’d never know.” And then the other cuff, my eyes transfixed on his fingers. “I thought I’d be able to resist you.” He looks up and takes a step toward me. “But fucking hell, Sutton, I realized that would be an impossible feat when I saw you sitting at that table at dinner tonight.”

He takes another step so that he’s within a foot of me. Our eyes hold for a beat as he leans in and for a second, I think he’s going to kiss me.

Every part of my body vibrates with a need I don’t understand. I whisper, “I can’t do this, Callahan.”

His lips quirk. “I like hearing my name on your lips.”

“Good. Great.” I stumble over those two seemingly easy words and force myself to focus on the matter at hand, standing my ground, instead of remembering the way his lips tasted. “You’ll hear it a lot. When we work together.”

I take a step back, my ass hitting the table behind me, and I grip the edge of the table to prevent me from touching him. He takes one step forward and reaches out to play with a piece of loose hair that has fallen out of my bun. I steel myself for the whisper of touch but it still makes my breath hitch.

“I can’t sleep with my boss. With you.”

“We wouldn’t exactly be sleeping, Sutton.”

“Then I can’t fuck my boss. Is that better?”

He groans, the sound of it rumbling through the room. “Do you know how much it turns me on when you talk like that?”

When he dips down and brushes his lips over mine, I don’t resist. Can’t. Isn’t this what I’ve been thinking about since that morning? Kissing him again? Tasting him again?