“The Scot likes black underwear and hold-ups,” I teased, attempting to relax into this, to bring back our banter and ease instead of this volcanic sexual tension that was much too intense. I slipped off my heels.

Suddenly he took hold of the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it up over his head and off, throwing it to the couch with my dress. God, I didn’t even know men like him existed outside of movies and myths. I couldn’t wait to explore his body again, remembering how much fun I’d had last time doing it.

“Babe, you could walk in here wearing a plastic garbage bag and I’d still want you. Now get on the bed,” he demanded as he unbuttoned the top of his jeans.

“You get on the bed.”

Caleb shook his head as he divested himself of his jeans and underwear. “Why is everything a bloody battle with you?” He looked up from staring at me to glare hungrily into my eyes. “You’re not my type. Your hair, your makeup, your clothes, your attitude. You’re too beautiful and you know it. And yet I’m desperate to have you again.”

I glowered, hating him and hating that my body was still hot and flushed and needy for him even after he’d said that to me. “I hate you.”

His jaw clenched, fire flashed in his eyes, and he growled, “Good.” His mouth crashed down on mine, sweeping me up into a hungry, punishing kiss that I instantly responded to. His strong arms bound around me, crushing my breasts against his naked chest, and I felt the shivery thrill of being pressed against the strength of him.

His hold was almost too tight, but there was something desperate about it that ignited the fire in me, and I slid my arms around his back, my fingers digging into his muscle as the kiss turned almost savage. Our tongues mated, mimicking what our bodies wanted to do, our teeth scraped against lips, biting, possessive, our breaths hot, pants and growls and gasps filling each other’s mouths.

No one kissed me like he did.

No one.

It obliterated the insecurity he’d caused only moments before.

It obliterated everything.

Suddenly he was helping me out of my underwear and then I was on my back, his kisses still deep, still ravaging, as I felt his hard length caress my belly and move down to nudge between my legs. I felt him push inside me and I whimpered against his kiss, my fingernails biting into his skin with need. Caleb groaned into my mouth. “You feel amazing.”

Through the fog of desire, realization of why this felt so incredibly good hit me. “Condom.” I stilled against his movements.

His eyes flew to mine and I saw the astonishment he couldn’t mask. Apparently protection wasn’t something he forgot about that often. His expression turned almost suspicious, accusatory even, and he gritted his teeth as he began to withdraw. The accusation died under a flush of dark pleasure and instead of pulling out he thrust back in, causing lightning bolts of bliss to rush up my spine.

He did it again. A guttural sound of ecstasy puffed against my lips.

I was losing myself in him.

I wanted to let go.

But somewhere in the back of my mind still lived sensible old me. I was on the pill but it wasn’t one hundred percent effective, and I still didn’t have those results he’d promised. “Caleb.” I panted, shaking my head. “Please.”

I heard a hiss of frustration and then his hips stilled against mine. He had his eyes squeezed closed, his jaw locked with tension. Then abruptly he pushed up off me. “Dinnae move an inch.” He growled, disappearing into the living room.

Seconds later he was over me again, laughter bubbling on my lips at how frustrated and harassed he looked. The laughter instantly died as he gripped my right thigh against his outer hip and thrust back inside of me.

It wasn’t the same, but it was still excellent.

Afterward, when both of us were breathless and satisfied, he loosened his hold on me. He dropped to his elbows, his slick, warm forehead resting between my breasts, his hot breath puffing against my stomach. He kissed my belly, softly, almost reverently.

It was sweet and not at all what I expected of him.

It felt nice. Too nice.

So I immediately sought to spoil it. “I guess I should go.”

Caleb tensed. After a few seconds of silence, he lifted his head, but only far enough to bring his mouth to my breasts. He covered them in kisses and swiped teasing licks against my nipples until I felt desire building inside me again. Without thought I lifted my hands to grasp his shoulders and my touch brought his eyes up. They were hard with determination. “I’m not done with you yet.”

And just with those simple words I was back under his sensual spell. “What do you want to do to me?” I whispered.

“What will you let me do tae you?”

My heart skittered because somehow I knew we wouldn’t be done after just one more night. The thought of returning here tomorrow and possibly the day after filled me with a weird mixture of anticipation and trepidation. But the trepidation wasn’t going to stop me.

I was addicted to the pleasure he gave me. “Well … why don’t you try and see?”

Twelve

Try as I might, it was difficult not to daydream at work the next day. My mind kept drifting back to the events of the night before, and it was unlike me not to approach my work with single-minded focus.

Thankfully, I had an appointment with Fred Russo, the talented man who brought to life the designs for my soft furnishings and window dressings. He had a small, talented team that consisted of curtain makers and upholsterers. They did everything from cushion making to curtain making to creating one-of-a-kind duvet covers. There had also been more than one occasion where I’d been unable to find a sofa or chair I had in mind, so I’d designed it, had one of my master carpenters make it, and Fred upholstered it.

I was there to check up on their work for Patrice’s guesthouse and make some final decisions on the fabric choices for each room in Roxanne’s summer home.

Fred’s shop was fabric heaven, bolts and bolts of expensive, luxurious fabric that often made it difficult for my more involved clients to come to a decision. I was decisive. While designing a room, I knew exactly what kind of fabrics and palettes I wanted to use. Clients like Roxanne, however, who didn’t trust you (and made you wonder why she hired you in the first place), played lovely games of back-and-forth that slowed the project down. And then they complained about how much time it was taking.

I was done waiting. Roxanne’s last okay to fabric choice was now the final decision.

Working with Fred was a wonderful distraction that morning. The entire time I barely thought about the night before, but as soon as I left his shop my mind automatically went there again. After our quick, desperate, but extremely satisfying first round, Caleb and I had taken our time exploring each other. I could still feel his beard scratching and tickling my skin as he discovered every inch of it with his mouth. There were little patches of red skin this morning on the places he’d lingered the longest. But I didn’t mind. I flushed remembering his attentiveness. And he’d let me touch and kiss every inch of him too.

I hadn’t left the hotel room until almost one in the morning, and Caleb had insisted on calling me a cab even though my apartment was walking distance from the hotel.

Despite the chaos of my thoughts, I was so wrung out that I’d fallen asleep as soon as I’d gotten into bed. And this morning when my alarm went off I’d felt surprisingly fresh and awake despite having slept for only four and a half hours. I’d even managed to fit in a run.

But there was something that niggled at me and had been niggling me all morning.

Because last night didn’t feel like a quick, satisfying, casual affair. Come to think of it, our first time together in the hotel at O’Hare hadn’t exactly felt like that either.

The way Caleb overwhelmed me in bed, the way he completely owned me until there was nothing else in the world but him and me, made me feel uneasy. It wouldn’t be difficult to begin to like the man he was when we were together like that. He was an amazing partner. Simultaneously wild and rough and savage, yet sweet, reverent, and generous.

No man should be that good. The truth was, however, that he made me a different kind of lover. Sex with Nick had been great, but we’d always just been satisfied with a bit of foreplay followed by the main event. Once that was done, we were finished for the night. I couldn’t remember rolling around in bed with him for hours or striving to make him groan with pleasure the way I had with Caleb.