Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 50653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
I go inside, heading straight for the bathroom to check out the damage to my own hair and wash her blood off.
The door creaks as I’m drying my hands. I look over to see Callan propping it open.
“Rogue. A word.” He jerks his chin.
“What’s with you stalking me to restrooms?”
He doesn’t bother to answer and walks off, letting the door close before I fully exit.
Charmer.
“You can punch me in the face any day of the week, sweet ass,” Dodger groans as we pass through the bar.
“Keep calling me that and I just might.” I smirk his way, and he raises a glass. I could do with a drink. It seems kicking Georgina’s ass won’t get my invite to the club revoked from this group, but Callan is another question.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Callan growls in Dodger’s direction before leading me down a hallway.
“Where are we going?” I ask, following him through a maze of passages until we stop at a door isolated at the end of one.
He offers silence, waving me inside. It’s an office. A huge mahogany desk spans most of the space. A few locker cabinets line the back wall, and video monitors flick through the cameras in the halls, kitchen, and entertainment rooms.
“A bit intrusive.” I fold my arms and hover next to the desk. He takes a seat, his long legs parted and outstretched. He steeples his hands and watches me. Those eyes smoldering with fire, and even though they burn, I still crave the heat. Smug asshole.
“What?” I cave first and hate myself for it.
“Georgina wanted that reaction from you.”
I yawn. “As much as I hate to be predictable, she had it coming.”
He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, and my eyes follow the path, wanting to taste the wet glistening there.
“You seem jealous.” His dark chuckle creeps around the room and chases up my spine, sprouting goosebumps over my flesh. Asshole.
Taking the couple steps to his desk, I lean over it and plant my hands on the surface. “Do I? Or is that what you want me to feel?”
Tilting his head, watching, calculating, he says, “Would it make you feel better if I told you she’s not my girlfriend?”
Yes. “No. What happened wasn’t about me being jealous, Callan. I don’t want to fuck you. I’ve already stated that.”
A growl crawls up his throat as he gets to his feet. His hands slam against the desk, fingertips gripping the edge. “You said you wouldn’t, not that you didn’t want to. Now, say it again.”
His rush of irritation floods my panties. “Say what? I won’t fuck you?” My voice betrays my need, airy and wistful.
Coming around the desk, he clasps my hair and moves it away from my neck, pressing the hard planes of his body against my back. My heart skips.
“My name.” His lips brush against the skin beneath my ear, and a ripple of pleasure pulsates through my body. “Say it again.” At just the graze of his fingertips, I forget who I am. “My name, Rogue,” he pushes.
“Callan,” I say, my voice as flat as I can muster.
He scrapes his teeth over my earlobe. His giant palms grasp my hips. “I think you can do better than that.” The timber of his voice vibrates through my body, tightening my nipples. I fight not to grind my ass against him. His hand moves from my hip, gliding across the soft skin of my stomach, evoking a gasp from my lips. Traveling further up my torso beneath my shirt, he teases.
I don’t know why I react to him the way I do. My body has a mind of her own—and it’s filthy. His thumb skims under my tits, then lower, scraping the waist of my jeans. He moves back up, and I want to scream.
“You’re a tease,” I whine, my body wound tight.
“Am I?” He chuckles, those thick lips whispering against my neck. “You said you didn’t want to fuck me.” There’s possession in his tone. His arm tightens around my midsection, bringing our bodies flush. I tilt my head, giving him more access.
“We don’t have to fuck,” I say, breathless as I stroke my hand over his, guiding him up to my aching nipple. An approving sound pushes past his lips and he squeezes, pinching, caressing, punishing. “But we can touch.” I look over my shoulder, my eyes meeting his, the dark depths glazed with lust.
“Touch me, Callan.” His free arm wraps around my shoulder. His hand grips my jaw, tipping my head further back before his lips meet mine. Soft but firm, he consumes me with warm strokes of his tongue. A growl climbs up his throat as he deepens the kiss, his teeth nipping, lips sucking. The caress of his palm isn’t enough to sate the need.
Breaking away, I turn in his arms, grasp his shirt, and drag him forward, my ass hitting the desk. He lifts me so I’m balancing on the edge.