Of course she was. She didn’t have the life experience to deal with this shit. Hell, he was significantly older and he didn’t feel equipped to handle it, either.
Sean’s words haunted him. She needs tender guidance. Thorpe had guided her, all right. But he’d never been able to do it tenderly. Boundaries and protection he could give her without compromising his heart, but seeing the love in her eyes now as she pressed her fragile body against him . . . Everything about her was killing his resolve to remain aloof.
“Callie, pet. You can’t leave me.” His voice croaked, and an unfamiliar sting prickled his eyes.
He slammed his lids down. Damn it, he could not afford this weakness.
“Better for you if I do.” She sounded so damn sad.
Thorpe shook his head, holding her closer. “You’d ruin me, pet. In fact, I think you already have.”
Callie threw her arms around him, her breath warm against his neck. He gripped her tighter. Normally, he’d wish he hadn’t spilled his guts . . . but he would try if any bit of the truth kept her with him.
“You’ll be my biggest regret,” she whispered.
Goddamn it, that hurt.
Maybe he should simply admit that he knew she was a fugitive. Almost as quickly, Thorpe dismissed the idea. If she was insistent on running now, he suspected that divulging what he knew would only make Callie more determined to flee.
He held her tighter, taking in everything that made her uniquely Callie. The firm little curves of her body, those long lashes against her fair cheeks, her fingers digging into his shirtfront as if seeking reassurance. This close, he smelled her citrus shampoo and the remnants of the hair color he knew she used as a disguise. Her signature pink polish colored her petite toes, spritzed with glitter. And the soft little shudders of her body as she cried ripped out his heart.
“I won’t give you a chance to regret me, pet. I sure as hell refuse to wish I’d done something different while I had you with me.” He was already going to regret the last four years. “Lie back.”
She gasped softly, her gaze shooting up to his. She swallowed. Desire mingled with despair and wracked her face. “Thorpe . . . I can’t.”
He tensed. “Because of Kirkpatrick?”
Callie nodded.
“You’ve said you’re rescinding his collar. If you’re leaving here, you’re obviously leaving him, too.”
“I know.” More tears clouded her eyes.
If it wasn’t just about misguided loyalty to the Scot, what else was she hesitating about? The hurt from his desertion two Decembers ago? Christ, that had to be it. Remorse wracked him.
“I won’t walk away from you this time without giving you pleasure. I give you my word.”
Callie stared, breath held, the moment frozen. Thorpe watched her face as a thousand thoughts zipped through her head. And he saw the second she decided that if she was severing her bond with Kirkpatrick and fleeing, then she’d rather have him once than never at all.
With a sad smile, she climbed out of his lap and onto her bed, lying across it. Thorpe turned to watch her as she held out her arms to him, a silent siren call he had no idea how or if he could resist.
On the other hand, he had his answer about her parting gift to him. Tonight, she intended to give all of herself. Her body. Her heart. Her soul.
Her response both touched and infuriated him to the core. The girl was often so damn unpredictable. Right now, he’d have to be the same.
Standing, Thorpe shucked his suit coat. Then he doffed his cuff links, setting them on her nightstand. He draped his shirt over his coat at the head of the bed. Then he checked the pockets of his trousers. What he needed still rested inside. With a bracing breath, he turned to Callie.
“Robe off, pet. Spread your legs.”
Her fingers trembled as she worked the knot around her waist free. With a little lift and an arch of her graceful spine, she pulled it away from her body, gathering the silk in one hand, then letting it puddle on the floor. He would never get over how beautiful she was and the visceral reaction she elicited in him every damn time he came near her.
Callie slowly parted her thighs. His heart chugged. Technically, he should walk away and leave her untouched until she formally severed her relationship with Sean. Putting his hands on another Dom’s sub wasn’t ethical. The fact that he suspected Kirkpatrick of being a deceitful douche bag wasn’t relevant. Thorpe realized it was possible he’d convinced himself that these were extenuating circumstances because he wanted Callie so badly. But he couldn’t make himself care. This was likely his last chance to persuade her to stay. If he had to risk his reputation in the BDSM community to keep her safe from a man who might be trying to snuff her out or lock her in prison, so be it.
Her bare pu**y splayed out in front of him, pink and swollen and tantalizing. Even if she remained at Dominion, this opportunity would probably never come again. If she wasn’t with Kirkpatrick, she’d be with someone else. Callie wasn’t cut out to spend her life alone, and he shouldn’t punish her because he’d resigned himself to solitude.
Thorpe refused to take from her now, but he would gladly give.
He lowered himself to the bed between her legs. Her stare never wavered from him, but he heard her indrawn breath. As he engulfed her hip with his hand, she shivered. Then, settling himself on his chest, Thorpe took her other hip in hand and dragged her closer, until her pu**y was a breath away from his lips.