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“I really fucking do.”

I straddle him and pull my shirt the rest of the way off. His eyes follow every movement, all that lazy confidence briefly gone.

Good.

I like making Callum Fox forget how to speak.

I bend to kiss him, and his hands slide around my waist, then down, gripping my hips. He’s hard beneath me, and when I move against him, his head drops back against the pillow.

The sound he makes is filthy.

I want to hear it again.

So I do it again.

His hands tighten.

“Doc.”

“What?”

“You keep doing that, and this is going to become an extremely short evening.”

I sit back. “That would be embarrassing for you.”

He grabs me around the waist and flips us, putting me beneath him again before I can protest.

“Where are the condoms?” he asks.

“Drawer.”

He reaches over, opens the wrong one, and finds three highlighters, a stapler, and my emergency flashcards.

He stares inside.

“Of course.”

“Next drawer.”

He finds them.

When he turns back, the humor has softened out of his face. He runs one hand over my thigh.

He kisses me once before pulling off the rest of his clothes.

I make the mistake of looking down.

Oh.

Okay.

He catches my expression.

“Problem?”

“Just preparing myself.” I squeak. I’d felt his length, but seeing it is a different thing entirely. My mouth embarrassingly waters. He is massive. Huge.

He grins. “I’ll go slow,” and rolls on the condom.