I’m dangerously

unashamedly

nymphomaniacally

in love with this big cock.

He shifts and pulls me up to my feet, scooping me up and taking me to the couch. He sits and brings me with him as he stretches on his back—then he flips me around in a 69. He whispers as he kisses the inside of my thigh. “Come on my face. Huh? Do that for me, huh?” He licks deep inside me.

“Oh god, Callan.”

“Bend over me.”

I take him in my mouth, ramming the thick flesh as far as I can take him. I rock my hips as his tongue works me and I go off in record speed when not only do I feel him tongue me deeply, but also hear him groan as if I’m the most delicious-tasting thing ever. I’m definitely not the most delicious-tasting thing ever.

Because I’ve got the most delicious-tasting thing ever in my mouth.

I didn’t sleep one wink and I’m not one bit tired after the orgasms he gave me. I feel amazing, delicious. Also, hungry. And shy.

I’m enjoying my time so much as we have breakfast, coffee and pastries and the most delicious green tea I’ve ever tasted.

I brazenly stroke my bare toes up his calf beneath the breakfast table as we both read the paper.

I love that Callan’s lips curl as if by their own will when I head a little higher, but he doesn’t stop reading. It makes me wonder if he reads the paper every morning. Wonder what it would be like to wake up and see him with his sexily mussed hair every morning.

“What are we doing today?”

He eyes me above the top of the paper, eyebrows raised, eyes warm on me as he then folds it. “I don’t know about you, but I’m doing you.”

“Callan!” I groan but blush deliciously all over.

He laughs softly, and then grits his jaw as if he’s in pain. “I’ve been thinking long and hard about this—and I’m talking to Roth tomorrow.”

My teacup clatters on the saucer. “What? What do you mean?” When he only sends me a commanding look, I blurt, “You don’t need to talk to him . . . This is just between me and you, and it’s just a fling. It’ll only complica— Look, I’m only here for two more weeks.”

“And?”

“And I’m not staying here. You’re not looking for anything serious.” I pause. “Are you?”

“I’m looking at her.”

“You don’t mean it. You’re fixated on me, like some company you see potential in; the more you think you can have it the more you want it.”

“Olivia,” he tsks softly, reaching across the table and tugging me around it until I’m on his lap. “You’re pleasant company, but you’re not a company.”

I’m scared to believe him. I don’t want him to talk to my brother, I don’t want him to pretend this is different, I don’t want to expect that much. I just want him.

I just want to binge and binge on him until this ache in my chest goes away. “I don’t want to talk.”

“Me either.” He rubs my ass as I rub his thigh.

“Let’s just enjoy this while it lasts, okay?” I beg.

He stares into my eyes. “I want to make it clear I have no shame when it comes to you. No rules I won’t break for you. Something about you gets to me like nothing ever has. I say the word woman, I think of you. Female, I think of you. Sexy, I think of you. Sweet, I think of you.”

“God. Don’t be sweet to me. It will just make it harder to leave.”

“You want hard? Last night was hard.” He looks at me—and I realize he doesn’t like our situation. He’s not the kind of man to be anyone’s dirty little secret. He’s the kind of man you flaunt.

And apparently, I’m the kind of girl he’d come clean for.

“I’ll tell him when I’m ready,” I concede, needing him more than I did a second ago. Something that I thought was impossible.

The steely determination in his eyes softens at my words, and he grabs the back of my neck possessively and pulls me to his devouring mouth. No more talking for now.

I have an enjoyable dinner with the girls that weekend, but I’m dreading telling my brother about Callan and me.

My worst fear now is that Tahoe is going to punch Callan.

I don’t want my brother to punch Callan.

I’ll punch my brother if that happens.

I feel protective of my guy, even if he’s only temporary. Callan not only looks like a bad boy, he acts like one too, and everybody’s going to blame him. They’re going to act as if this is such a bad thing, when it’s not bad. Not at all.

But I’m dying to talk to someone about it.

I’m quiet, sitting here, when all I want is to shout it to the rooftops. But saying it aloud will only bring more complications, and I already know that it’s going to end soon. So I only tell the girls that I went to Navy Pier with him recently, which surprises all of them.

“Wow. He invited you?”

“I sort of invited myself.” I laugh, then smirk and sip from my straw.

They’re dead silent. And then they all seem to talk at the same time.

Rachel tells me you really can’t know a guy until you’ve opened up to each other.

Wynn says even then apparently things that have been buried too deep take a while or a trigger to surface.

Gina tells me to listen to my brother, that he wants what’s best for me.

And I just listen and that’s that.

The next week, Callan’s got a thousand things on his plate, it seems. A successful recent acquisition needs restructuring, and Alcore’s fighting back against his takeover.

My eyes are blurry at 9 p.m. I’m on my seventh cup of coffee.

I hear the elevator of my floor ting, and I see Callan step out and we smile.

We’re the only ones in the building.

“You should be home,” he says.

“Not if you’re still working,” I say stubbornly.

We both start for the elevators.

He smiles approvingly. “You have time to track my schedule?” He absently pushes a part of my loose hair back behind my shoulder. “Thought I’d kept you busy enough.”

“You do.”

As he exposes my neck and runs his thumb along the curve of my throat, a shiver runs through me. “Not enough, apparently.” Callan cups the back of my head and turns me to face him. “I must give you something to do with that extra time of yours.”

His eyes are glinting playfully, and I blush and say, tongue in cheek, “Maybe.”

His driver, Lou, pulls the Range Rover around the curve as we exit the building.

Callan and I climb inside. We head along the streets of Chicago, Callan quietly staring out the window, a thoughtful expression on his face.

I reach out and take his hand. He doesn’t seem to notice, so I squeeze it, silently inviting him to share.

“I’m sorry.” He turns, rubbing a hand over his face, squeezing my fingers. “I’m distracted; I’m not on my game.” He looks at me with a pause, then adds gruffly under his breath as he eyes me beneath drawn brows, a warning/playful gleam in his eye, “Taking over companies used to be more fun before you made me question everything.”

I just stare.

I’m falling for him. I want to say, Your whole heart for my whole life.

They say nothing is guaranteed. Except I know I’ll never feel for someone the way I do for him. Not for a moment.

What can I do?

“I can sleep at my place—” I offer.

But he cuts me off with a brusque “No.”

The look in his eyes when we reach his house is absolutely possessive. Sometimes we stop for dinner. Sometimes we order delivery to his home. Sometimes his chef leaves dinner prepped for us.

Tonight he doesn’t seem hungry for anything but me.

Our fingers linked, he leads me to his bedroom.

I want to erase the frustration from his brow and the shadows from his eyes.

“Maybe a part of me feels if I tell my brother, he’ll take you away. You won’t be just mine; you’ll be accused of seducing me when the truth is, I was little nymphy Livvy who—”

He bursts out laughing. “Livvy. I wanted you the second you asked for that first hit.”