Womanizer

  “I know what you’re thinking. That I’m being foolish and that I should take the job, but it’s best if I stay where I am. I like it where I am.”

  “That’s not what I’m thinking.”

  We stop walking.

  He slips his hand into my hair. “Tell me to kiss you, Livvy.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because you haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

  “I have.”

  “In that case, I haven’t.” He strokes a finger down my jaw. “So. How about you kiss me. For my sake.”

  “Come on. You get kissed all the time, I’m sure.”

  “Not by you, not nearly enough.”

  I exhale, leaning against the building behind me for support. We’re kind of secluded, at the entrance to an alley. People are passing by on the street, oblivious to us.

  “So how about you kiss me like you did that night.” He tugs my chin up. “Or let me kiss you like I did that night.”

  “You kissed me all over.”

  “Then at least let me kiss those intoxicating lips of yours. For now.”

  I blink, and I start to shake my head from side to side in no, but it’s also bobbing up and down in yes.

  He smiles slowly, seductively, and pulls me to him by the back of the head and suddenly his eyes are darkening.

  He smells warm and male and strong.

  He leans down. His mouth devours mine softly. I feel his fingers slip into mine as he drags me closer and deeper into the alley. His warm hand slides up my left cheek, and we don’t speak, only kiss.

  He leans his head and I go up on tiptoe, confused and afraid and still unable to resist him.

  His tongue flicks at my lips and then past them, touching mine.

  It’s wet and warm, gentle and exploratory.

  My fingers dig into his shoulders and his hands press me closer.

  I’m panting and aching between my legs, rocking my hips slightly to his. It’s like my body is begging and he grabs my hips and holds me against him, where he’s hard, and grinds us as he gives me another kiss, giving me just a hint of what could be.

  Another kiss, this one more sensual, more carnal.

  His fingers spread on my cheek as he tips up my face, and his other hand closes around a handful of my hair as he sucks on my tongue.

  My heart pounds against my chest, and through the soft cotton of his shirt pressed against my thin satin top, I think I feel his heart too.

  We ease apart. His eyes close. I tip my head as our foreheads somehow touch.

  I can still taste him in my mouth. It’s difficult to pry my eyes open and meet his gaze, but when I do, he’s looking down at me with eyes that look very male.

  He uses his thumb to tip my head up a notch and force me to hold his gaze. His voice sounds like sand on velvet. “Are you okay with this?”

  His textured voice.

  His piercing stare.

  I want Callan so much, I have to curl my fingers into my palms to keep them from plunging into that wind-blown hair, pulling his head down to mine, touching his lips again, feeling him taste me with all that lusty hunger again.

  I laugh nervously.

  One second I’m laughing, the next my breath stops as his lips brush over mine again. “Say you’re okay with this.”

  I gasp, the lightning-bolt feeling of his kiss coming back. And his hand slides from my cheek to grip my hair again, while his other hand joins it on my scalp, holding me in place as he angles his head and parts my lips open for him. He does it firmly, hungrily, as if he can’t control himself, as if he needs this for some reason.

  All I’m aware of is the slick heat of his mouth, the rush in my blood as I move my mouth just as fast as he does. My hands slide into his hair, gripping, and he groans as if he likes the response. Callan’s groan makes me ache in places.

  He cups my face in his warm hands as he peels his lips away, breathing harshly. “Say it, Olivia. That you want my kiss all over, under this,” he tugs my top, “below your waist . . .”

  I’m dizzy. He makes it so hard to think straight and even harder to make me even want to try to pull away. His arms feel so amazingly, incredibly good as he slides them to my waist, keeping us flush.

  “Flirting is just not convenient,” I pant.

  “I agree it’s not.” He grins with his lips and with his eyes. “Kissing is really, really pushing it.”

  I exhale shakily. “Well then, no flirting. No kissing. Especially at the office.”

  His hands clench convulsively on my hips as if he has no intention of letting me escape.

  My body is sort of leaning on his, my arms sort of twisted around his neck as I tip my head up and look into his eyes. “If we have sex again, it’d just be to work each other out of our systems. Only tonight. Monday is Monday and nothing happened. Nothing,” I say.

  A dark, fierce look appears in his eyes. “It’s not Monday yet.”

  “I want you,” he says, cupping my face, kissing me deeper.

  I glance at the condom basket tucked under my nightstand. “As you can see, I’m very prepared. Condoms. A lifetime supply.”

  He shakes his head, tsking as he brushes my hair behind my face. “That’s not a lifetime supply, Olivia.”

  “Well . . .” I flush. He walks us to the bed and lays me down on it, his slacks half unzipped, his chest bare and glorious.

  “I’ve never had an orgasm with a guy until you,” I admit.

  He lifts his brows, his smile fading as he eases back to look at me. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m always serious. Are you calling me a liar? Why do you look so shocked? I’m not a virgin—you didn’t get to pop my cherry.”

  He’s just staring at me.

  He smiles again, then his eyes turn smoldering and his smile fades as he looks at me. This raw look crosses his eyes before he leans over and takes my mouth, softly, so softly.

  “Oh god, that feels good.” I throw my neck back and run my fingers over his bare chest as he tugs my top upward.

  He pulls it over my head. I grab his hair as his lips run down my neck.

  “Callan,” I breathe. I arch my back.

  He strokes his hand down my bare torso and abdomen. “I like that,” he says. He looks at my mouth for a whole minute, then his hand cups my jaw. His eyes are a mixture of hunger, amusement, and tenderness. He leans over and kisses me, slipping his tongue into my mouth slowly this time, as if I’m irresistible. Meant to be savored.

  He unfastens my bra and tugs it off, then rubs the hard point of my nipple with his thumb. I run my fingers down his abs.

  Callan is the kind of guy who has perfect genetics, who is muscled naturally, athletic and gifted and gorgeous.

  I can feel every one of those muscles under my fingertips right now as I head for his cock.

  He groans when I slip my fingers into his slacks and find him hot, so hard against his boxers.

  I rub a little, loving when he groans again.

  And he kisses me.

  He eases his hand into his boxers and pulls out his cock and rubs it against my thigh with a greedy thrust.

  Shit! I’m so ready I’m trembling—literally trembling from the heat in my body and the cool air in the room. He pushes his slacks down and then is naked.

  “Ohhhhh,” I groan, and as a reward, he tongues me.

  I drag my bare feet up the back of his calves.

  I inhale sharply when he tugs my skirt up my thighs. His fingers edge into my inner thigh, sure and determined.

  I rock my hips as his fingertip teases me through my panties.

  He’s a living, breathing candy and right now he’s all for me.

  He starts kissing my lips again as he eases his fingers into my panties and starts rubbing my folds. I don’t know how to feel, how to react, my world is spinning a thousand miles a minute, there is no bed beneath me, nothing but my arms around his neck, clenching, and his hot mouth, and his expert touch.

  His strong hands ci
rcle my waist and lift me to sit up on the bed. He tugs my panties off along with my skirt. Says, “I think I should get in here and look for some freckles.”

  He turns me slightly to look at the back of my shoulders.

  The touch of his fingertips against my bare skin feels like the most divine thing in the world. He bends his dark head and takes the back of my neck in his mouth, suckling gently. My body arcs and twists in pleasure. “This is my favorite one,” he says as he shifts me slowly around and takes my breast in his mouth. “And this one.” He’s got me fully facing him now as he takes my other nipple and sucks it even harder.

  God, I might not survive tonight but I’ll die having an orgasm. Sex has never been like this. I’ve never been mindless for it—for a guy. For him. I spread my legs open to make room for him and clutch his hair and twine my legs around him.

  “Please,” I beg.

  His voice is thick with desire too. “Olivia, did you mean what you said? No man has ever made you come before?”

  Please god, make Callan stop saying the word come.

  I struggle with the wave of desire surging through me and arch up against him. “I meant it at the time but that’s not the case anymore.”

  His eyes shine tenderly as he thumbs back a loose strand of hair behind my forehead. “I want to do more things to you. Make you writhe all night. Make you come for all the times a man has touched you and you haven’t.”

  “Okay. Challenge accepted,” I pant. “There’ve been like a hundred men.”

  “A hundred men?” he repeats, smiling because he knows I’m just being greedy.

  I bob my head up and down and bite my lip.

  His eyes remain heavy, but his lips curl into a sensual smile as he crawls up to me. “Liar, liar, your tongue’s on fire.” He licks his tongue into my mouth and slips his hand between my legs.

  Bolts of heat shoot from his fingertips slickly caressing my folds and up my whole body. Through the haze of desire coming over me, I absently realize that he’s got the best hands in the world and smells the best, feels the best, tastes the best. I’ve never felt like this.

  I never want this moment to end.

  I’m on a high I never want to come down from.

  I’m flying.

  So high, this is dangerous and definitely not good for me—and I still want it. I want more of it, of Callan Bad Boy Carmichael.

  He licks my lips. “You’re coming so fast, so hard, and so very frequently tonight there won’t be a day that you come and not think of me.” He licks me again, a flick of his tongue. Warm. Wet.

  He plays me with his fingers.

  “Open up to me, Olivia,” he murmurs into my mouth.

  The tip of his cock replaces his fingers.

  And I do.

  I lie in my bed on Saturday, still buzzing head to toe, my body humming with arousal, my lips tasting of Callan.

  My phone rings. I start when I see an unfamiliar number on the screen and quickly pick up, dreading for it to be him. Dreading for it to not be him.

  He left while I was sleeping.

  That can’t be good.

  I answer but remain silent on the line.

  There’s a corresponding silence for a moment, then he speaks, and his voice trails over me, so warm and textured, I close my eyes for a moment.

  “You have a good time last night?”

  “Yes.”

  “So did I.”

  I stare out the window. “Really? Why did you leave?”

  “I had breakfast with my dad.”

  “Oh.” I swallow. “So this . . . this attraction between us. We can make it go away, right?”

  He laughs.

  “Callan. I’m going back home soon, I wasn’t really looking for anything else. When I seduced you I was buzzed and you were this hot stranger I loved talking to.”

  “You don’t like talking to me now?” There’s amusement in his voice and this odd husky tenderness.

  “Actually I do,” I quickly explain. “But I don’t want to be attracted to you. I want to focus on work. No distractions. It seemed a good idea to just get each other out of our systems.”

  “Is it working for you?” he asks.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Let me know when you do.”

  “Okay.”

  “Good night, freckles.”

  “Good night, Callan.”

  I hang up and stare at the phone. Freckles? What does it mean? Does it mean we’ll go on? No. There is no way we can go on. I text him early the next morning after a sleepless night.

  No regrets, but tomorrow you’re Mr. Carmichael. And that’s what you’ll be from now on.

  I’ll see you tomorrow.

  Miss Roth.

  The next weekend, the interns are ready for our night out, and I’m ready for fun. I’m all dressed up in a skimpy, cute little black dress, red heels, a long, simple gold necklace and a pair of bangles, my hair loose.

  “I’m so ready to dance!” I say. I want to forget Callan and dance my sexual frustration away.

  “Change of plans. George’s brother can get us into Havoc, a very exclusive club only the VIPs of the city go to, mostly all single.” Janine wiggles her brows as we ride a cab toward the club.

  “Just give me a song and a dance floor. And a drink,” I say.

  “I’ll dance with you,” says George.

  “Thanks, George.” Then I notice Janine doesn’t look too pleased about it.

  We hop out of the cab. The driveway outside the club is lined with fancy cars.

  There, among the long line, is my brother’s Rolls-Royce Ghost.

  God. Really? Fuck! I panic. “Wait!” I grab Janine by the arm.

  “A problem, Roth?” George asks me.

  I hesitate, then exhale. I don’t want my brother to be disappointed, but I’m sure he doesn’t want me at the clubs just for my protection, not because he doesn’t want me to have fun. Plus I’m feeling homesick. I’ve never slept in an empty apartment. I’ve always lived with my parents before. And I don’t want to think of freaking Callan.

  I shake my head. It’s a big city, and a big club, and I’ll just find my own little corner of it to dance in.

  Once we’re let inside by the bouncer after George tells him his brother’s name, I scan the crowd and see Tahoe is standing by a group that’s sitting in a booth. He glances at his watch as Regina hugs one of the girls goodbye, then wraps an arm around her waist and leads her away.

  I exhale, give a little prayer of thanks, then I scan the crowd again.

  A man with dark hair shifts in the booth and there is the anonymous man of my wet dreams, the one who’d never had a face before Callan.

  Some girl is hovering over him and I feel a pang of jealousy. Really, she’s welcome to all his cigarettes, thank you. I could use the extra minutes of life.

  I head to the opposite corner of the club and Janine follows as she skims the hot guys available. “Table or mingle?”

  “Dance,” George says, and he takes my hand.

  “Drinks first,” I tell George.

  Armed with our cocktails of choice, we end up on a spacious floor under flashing strobe lights, mirrored chandeliers, and in between a hundred dancing people. I listen to the music, a wicked song by Adam Lambert, and I move to the rhythm, closing my eyes and sipping my drink.

  Chills run down my spine all of a sudden.

  I open my eyes and I see, past elbows and shoulders and moving forms, him watching me from his table.

  I have a sudden image of me dancing for him the first time we had sex, when I didn’t know who he was, and I can’t stop dancing. I move my hips and hold his copper gaze.

  He starts smiling as if to himself and raking me with his eyes, as if he’s a biologist studying an animal in a zoo.

  I sigh and take a sip of my drink when I realize it’s empty already.

  He continues watching me with this little smile.

  Slowly, he rises and stalks toward me.

 
Oh. Crap. Shit.

  I take George’s drink and down it all. He looks shocked. “I like my girl to know how to party. Want me to get us another one?”

  “Um, yes, or several,” I yell out over the noise as he heads for the bar.

  I realize he’s left me alone on the dance floor while Callan moves through the crowd in my direction. I’m left with nothing to do and nothing to drink but the sensuality of his physique. In a panic, I turn to the couple dancing to my right and begin to sway with them to the sound of “King of Sabotage” by Ferras.

  “Olivia,” I hear behind my ear.

  I hold my breath, but then turn and grin. “Derek.”

  “Drake.”

  “Fancy seeing you here, Drake. At this den of iniquity.” I signal around said den of iniquity.

  “This den is not for little girls.”

  He grabs my hand like it belongs to him.

  And my hand fits right in his like it belongs there.

  My eyes widen as he purposely leads me through the crowd, holding my hand the entire time, and I know I should pry it away but I can’t. He’s staring at me and I am staring at the expanse of skin revealed by the undone top buttons of his shirt.

  We step outside, onto a terrace.

  He leads me to a sitting area and tugs me down to sit next to him, and only then releases my hand.

  I don’t know what to do with it all of a sudden, curling my fingers into my palm because it tingles. Because his touch lingers.

  He continues staring at my profile in quiet desire for something. What, I don’t know.

  I’d say sex, but I already had that with him.

  I look at him, and he looks at me, lifting his brow.

  He looks at me so piercingly I have no choice but to look back.

  My eyes dart around the room restlessly. “I don’t want my friends to see me with you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they’re my coworkers and you’re the boss.”

  “Not your direct boss.”

  “We’re interns, that’s like a whole different caste system. I want to make friends while I’m here. In case you haven’t realized, a lot of people are scared shitless of you at Carma.”