Because He Takes Me(11)

When I returned to the house, I sat on the lanai and tried to read a book I’d found, but I couldn’t concentrate on the words. Finally, at around five o’clock, I hauled my suitcase up to the master suite, not at all surprised to find it was another room that took my breath away.

A heavy four-poster bed sat against the far wall, with a balcony that opened up over the pool and gave sweeping views of the Atlantic. The bathroom was bigger than my bedroom in New York, with creamy marble counters and a Jacuzzi tub.

I drew myself a bubble bath and lowered myself into the water, letting the warmth soothe my muscles and my nerves. When I was done, I dried my hair carefully then went to apply my makeup.

But when I saw my reflection, I groaned.

The sun had darkened my skin into a nice bronze color, except for my nose, which was more the color of a blood orange. How the hell had I let myself get sunburned? I’d applied SPF 75 faithfully, even making sure I took the tube with me onto the beach for touch-ups.

Damn my fair skin.

I did the best I could to cover it with my makeup, but my nose was still much redder than the rest of my face.

I stepped into my thong and fastened the matching bra, both of them made from a black satiny material that felt silky smooth against my skin.

I took out my new maxi dress and pulled that on, tying the beaded straps behind my neck and pairing it with a pair of high-heeled strappy sandals. When I was done, I surveyed myself in the mirror. I looked good, at least as good as I could look.

I heard the turn of the key in the lock, and then Callum calling to me up the stairs. “Adriana?”

The sound of his voice, deep and penetrating, sent shivers down my spine. This was it. There was no turning back. Up until now, a part of me had known I had the option of leaving at any time. Even when I was getting ready, the whole thing hadn’t felt completely real.

But now he was here, home from his meetings, ready to do whatever I was willing to let him.

“Adriana?” he called again.

“Yes,” I said, hurrying down the stairs.

He was standing in the kitchen, bags of groceries in his hands. He was still wearing his jeans and dark t-shirt, and I wondered how he could get away with going to a business meeting like that, how he could get away with looking so fucking sexy and powerful even in the most casual of outfits. His eyes lit up and he smiled when he saw me. The way he greeted me, the look on his face, as if he was happy to see me, instantly melted away any doubts I might have had about whether or not I wanted to go through with this.

“There you are,” he said. “Everything’s okay?”

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, everything’s fine.”

He crossed the room to me, pulled me close and kissed me hello, a deep kiss, not like the soft one he’d given me before. The kiss intensified and he pulled my body against his, crushing me against his chest, making me feel small and letting me know he was in control.

My knees quivered and liquid heat pooled in my belly.

He pulled back and looked at me. “You look beautiful,” he said huskily. His hands drifted up and slid to the back of my neck, tugging gently on the thin straps of my dress. “I cannot wait,” he said, lowering his mouth to my collarbone, “to get you naked.”

I shivered and pressed my hands against his chest. His muscles were rock hard and defined, and the heat in my belly turned from a simmer into a full-blown boil.

He pulled back again and tweaked my nose playfully. “You’re sunburned, Lemon.”

“Yes,” I said, praying I didn’t start blushing and making the redness of my skin worse. “I took a walk on the beach. I guess I didn’t realize how bright the sun was.”

“It’s sexy.”

“No, it isn’t,” I said, embarrassed.

He took my chin in his hand. “When I pay you a compliment, you are to accept it without question. Do you understand?”

I nodded, even though a part of me wondered what he was talking about. Why was he talking in generalizations like we would ever have a chance for him to compliment me again? After tonight, I would be out of his life forever.

“Come.” He took my hand and led me to the kitchen, where he began unpacking the grocery sacks. “Did you eat?”

“No.” I shook my head.

“I bought some steaks.” He paused, his hands holding a package wrapped in thick white butcher paper. “You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”

“No.”

“Good.” He walked out onto the lanai to light the grill, and when he returned, his eyes fell onto the contract that was sitting on the dining room table. “You signed it.”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He began seasoning the steaks, applying a mix of cracked herbs and spices, his hands moving expertly. There was nothing sexier than a man cooking, and I loved the juxtaposition of him standing there in his expensive clothes, his hair perfect, his watch sparkling, while he prepared a meal, an activity that was so primitive and raw.