an unfamiliar dark room, I’m confused. Looking around in the darkness, my eyes land on the large man in the bed next to me. Staring at him, my brain slowly pieces things together and the memory of Callum fucking me roughly against the bathroom sink come rushing back to me. I can’t believe that really happened.
My mind is racing, questions spinning in my head as one thing registers. I have to pee. And, shit, I forgot to pee after the sex—I was too exhausted to even walk after that. But I really have to pee now, and I gotta try and avoid a UTI as much as I can.
Slipping out from under Callum’s arm, I sit on the edge of the bed. My body aches, and I’m definitely sore between my legs. Standing slowly, my legs tremble slightly under my weight. Shit, it feels like I did a million squats. I take slow, quiet steps, glancing over my shoulder to make sure I don’t wake Callum as I walk to the door. I consider just using his bathroom, but I need to wash my face and do my skincare, so I decide to go to my room instead.
Washing my hands after peeing in my bathroom, I look up and catch my own eyes in the mirror. Standing in front of the mirror, I stare at my reflection. My blonde hair is a mess, the long locks in disarray without my usual middle part. My makeup is smudged, my mascara running under my eyes and my lip color smeared around my mouth. But despite the mess, there’s a shine in my eyes, and a flush to my cheeks. I’m glowing like a person that’s been thoroughly fucked, because boy was I. It was by far the best sex I’ve ever had.
After removing my makeup, I realize it’ll just be easier to take a shower and wash everything. I smell like sweat, and sex. As the water washes over me, I try to make sense of what just happened between me and Callum. He’s infuriating, demanding, and dark. He’s ruthless and dangerous. Someone I shouldn’t ever have gotten involved with.
But he’s also smart, strong, and he sees me. He’s the most captivating and all-consuming man I’ve ever met. Not to mention that he’s so hot he can melt my bones with a single look.
Looking down at my hips, I can see the bruises from his vice grip forming on my skin where I knew they’d be. Callum is a man true to his word—he hadn’t just taken me, he owned every inch of me. Even my mind. I’d submitted to him, surrendered to his will. And the reward was so much more than worth it. I’d never felt such blinding pleasure in my life.
This could cause so many problems.
Because I have no intention of submitting to Callum in any way outside of that little episode in the bathroom. He doesn’t get to own me. I’ve already gotten myself in way over my head with this damn contract, I don’t need to let Callum’s controlling ass think he has a claim on me.
I’ve lived a life under someone else’s crushing control, I’m not going back. I can’t. My parents did everything in their power to break me down into an obedient drone. It’s taken me years to release, relearn and rebuild. Hours and hours of therapy to find myself and create the life I want to live. I can’t give that up, I won’t.
Not for Callum, not for anyone.
Stepping out of the shower, I towel dry off, slather on some body cream, and slip on a pair of panties before tugging on my cozy robe and going through my hair routine. Standing in my bathroom, I look around and realize I’m done.
Still in my robe, I walk barefoot to the kitchen. The only light in the expansive room is the under cabinet lights glowing softly along the length of the counterspace. Instead of turning on the overhead light, I opt for the pendant lights hanging over the island. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, I fill it to the brim with crushed ice before adding the purified water.
Three refreshing gulps in, there’s a pounding at the front door. I glance down the hallway toward Callum’s room, but it’s all silent. I’m not really supposed to answer the door, not since Callum started staying in the Penthouse again. But it can’t hurt to at least check who it is.
Placing my glass down on the island counter, I walk as silently as possible over to the door. Another round of knocks sound as I press the screen to check the security camera on the other side of the door.
Roscoe stands in the hallway near the private elevator, holding what looks like a large manilla envelope. Seeing Callum’s right hand man, I unlock the door and open it. Roscoe looks at me in surprise for a moment. Probably not expecting me to be awake. Glancing at the clock on the security screen, I see that it’s close to 2am.
“Hi, Roscoe,” I say simply. I’m not really sure how to go about this. The whole bodyguard-enforcer thing is new to me. What do you usually say to greet someone like Roscoe at two in the morning?
“Lexie,” he greets with a nod as I step aside to let him in. “I’ve got something for Callum that can’t wait until morning.” His explanation is as vague as it is telling. Closing the door behind him, I slide the lock back into place out of habit.
“I think Callum’s sleeping,” I say. It’s the truth, but I’m not about to tell Roscoe I just left Callum asleep in his bed. Just when I’m going to suggest he go to Callum’s room and wake him up, Callum himself emerges from the dark hallway.
His eyes search until they find me, taking in my robe and wet hair. He’s still shirtless, but he’s changed into a pair of lounge pants. The look he gives me says that we’re going to talk later, before he’s focusing on the other man standing in the kitchen with me.
“Roscoe.” His tone is both a greeting and a question. I step over to the island to grab my glass of water while the men talk.
