Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 38276 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38276 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
I turn to frown at Callan. “Be nice.”
“You were being nice enough for the both of us,” he says, his voice grouchy.
“What on earth is your problem?” I ask, putting my hands on my hips.
“I’ll tell you what my problem is. You kissed another man right in front of me,” Callan says, stepping closer, forcing me to look up to maintain eye contact.
“That was not kissing him romantically. That was a friend’s kiss because he had just saved my tired self some work. You’re being an idiot.”
“I’m not,” He grits out. “Your lips shouldn’t touch anyone’s but mine. You belong to me.”
“We don’t even know one another. We haven’t even gone out on a date, and if you keep this up, we never will.”
I hear a growl of frustration leave his lips just before he pulls me into his hard body. His arms pin me to his chest as his lips crush mine in a possessive kiss. I’m shocked for a moment, not sure how to react. That ends when his tongue licks across the seam of my lips and it feels so good that I open for him. I don’t think I could resist him if I tried—and I don’t want to do that.
I want more.
Our tongues clash and fight for dominance. Heat pools in my belly as my mind goes blank. I’m completely lost in our kiss. Callan is possessing my body, taking complete control and I’m loving every moment of it.
Chapter 12
Callan
It takes every ounce of self-control that I possess to pull back from Zoe. I watch as she blinks away the desire I’ve stoked in her—a desire that is bleeding into her eyes. She just stands there, touching her lips. They’re a sexy hue of pink after our too-quick of a make-out session. I clasp her chin, bringing her eyes up to mine.
“You’re mine, Zoe. You feel it. Even if you want to deny it. I’m not giving up. I will work on getting you to open up to me until you give me everything I want. I’m not walking away. I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her. She stares at me with her mouth agape until she finally pulls back enough to tilt her head. I already know what’s coming before it even leaves her mouth.
“You know you sound insane, right?” she snaps.
“It may sound insane, but I’ve never been more positive about anything in my life. We’re meant to be together, and if you give me a chance, I’ll prove it.”
She waves a hand in the air for a second. “I’m too tired to try to make sense of any of this tonight.”
“You don’t need to. I’ll prove it all to you. I just need you to give me a chance,” I tell her as I lean in to kiss the top of her head. Her eyes close and when she opens them, I catch a glimpse of a smile.
“My father always kisses my head like that,” Zoe explains.
I lean in and kiss her on her lips softly. “I’m not your father and with everything I want of you, that’s a good thing. Although if that’s your kink, you can call me Daddy.”
“Ugh,” she huffs as she elbows me. “Knock it off.” I laugh but I see the blush creep into her cheeks.
Holding her for a second, I realize she’s been working all night and should be getting home. “Let’s get you out to your car so you can get home and get some sleep.”
“At least now you’re making sense.”
I press my palm softly to her back and guide her outside quietly as she makes her way to her car. I’m glad she’s walking slightly in front of me. This way she can’t see my reaction to her ancient Toyota Corolla. The thing belongs in a junkyard. I want to ask her if it even runs but realize she will take that as me judging her instead of what it really is—worried about her safety and the safety of anyone with her as she drives the damn thing.
“Damn it,” Zoe says stamping her foot. “I do not need this tonight!”
I’m surprised by her cursing until I see her standing next to her front tire that’s gone completely flat.
“Do you have a spare?” I ask, trying to be helpful.
“Yeah, it’s in the trunk,” she says, still staring at the flat.
I take the keys she’s clutching in her hand and go to the trunk, popping it open before lifting the panel over the spare. There’s a doughnut tire in there, the only problem is that it’s in shreds. It can’t be classified as a blowout. It’s eviscerated.
“Honey, when is the last time you used the spare?” I ask, gently.
She frowns and looks up at me. “I haven’t used it before.”
“How long have you had the car?” I ask carefully. I don’t want to upset her, but this is definitely not going to make her night any better.