Taunting Callum - Kristen Proby Page 0,1
to clean. It allows me to think.”
He doesn’t say anything. He also doesn’t make a move to leave.
So, I reach into a bucket and retrieve another rag, wring it out, and pass it to him.
“Here. If you’re going to hang out, you can make yourself useful.”
He raises a brow, but he takes the rag from me.
“What would you like me to do with this?”
“Wipe off tables,” I reply, gesturing toward the back of the café. “Just give them a little pass over with the rag.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He immediately turns away and gets to work, surprising the hell out of me. I expected him to smirk and pass the rag back.
He’s a prince.
And he’s cleaning tables in my café.
If it weren’t so absurd, it would be adorable.
Maybe I hit my head earlier today, and this is all just a funny dream. I’ll have to call my friend Natasha later and tell her all about it. She’ll get a kick out of it.
But when I turn around and find Callum standing there, watching me, it feels very real.
“You’re not a dream, are you?”
His lips tip up in an arrogant smile. “Well, in what context are you referring?”
Why is his accent so damn sexy? I mean, he looks like that, and he sounds sexy, as well? Inconceivable.
“This is the most bizarre conversation I’ve ever had. And trust me when I say I’ve had some crazy encounters. What are you doing here?”
“I told you,” he says, setting the rag on the counter and walking around to me once more. “I want to take you to dinner. Or somewhere. I’d like to get to know you better, Aspen.”
I lick my lips. He’s so close now, I can feel the heat of him. He would scramble the brains of any warm-blooded woman.
But I haven’t flirted with a man in years. And I certainly haven’t entertained the idea of dating one. Or, better yet, having sex with one.
But with Callum standing mere feet away, that’s precisely what I’m thinking.
“You surprise me,” I admit in a soft voice.
“How’s that?”
“You cleaned those tables without batting an eye.”
“I’ve cleaned far worse, I can assure you.”
I tilt my head, watching him. I can see his pulse in his neck.
“You’re a prince.”
He narrows his eyes and moves in closer, not touching me but certainly crowding. He smells like mint and sunshine.
“I’m just a man, Aspen.” His lips graze my cheek. “A man very taken with you, I might add.”
I swallow hard. Holy shit. My breathing comes harder, and an ache sets up shop in my very core.
I want him.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so attracted to a man before. Not even Greg. No one.
And if I ponder that for too long, the guilt will likely set in.
Instead, I turn my head and brush my nose over his jawline.
I want him to touch me. I want to feel things that have been missing from my life for years.
Suddenly, I want it with this perfect stranger.
“Aspen,” he whispers.
“Yes.”
“Tell me you don’t feel this.”
I swallow again. “I can’t.”
He growls as he plunges his hands into my hair and closes his lips over mine in the kiss of the century. His moves are smooth and sure. Assertive.
That’s what Callum is: confident.
But before the kiss goes any further, he backs up and stares down at me with intense brown eyes.
“I can’t do what I want to you here. All of bloody Montana could look through those windows, and I won’t have you caught in a scandal.”
“Office,” I reply immediately. With his hand in mine, I lead him through to the back of the café and my personal space there. It’s not fancy, but it’s private.
“Brilliant,” he says as he shuts the door behind him. Once I’ve pulled the blinds on the window, he comes right for me. He frames my face with his hands as he kisses me again, deeper and harder than before. We’re a tangle of material and limbs as we hurry out of our clothes. Suddenly, he boosts me up onto my desk.
And I can’t stop staring at his bare arm.
It’s covered in ink from his shoulder to his mid-forearm. Right where the rolled-up sleeve of his dress shirt would end.
“You have tattoos,” I say.
“Several,” he agrees and smiles just before he rips a condom wrapper open with his teeth. Where he got it, I have no idea, but I’m damn grateful he has it. And then he’s moving over me, and inside me, as if he’ll die if he doesn’t fuck me right