Chapter Thirteen Lexie
What a beautiful day.
Stepping out of the apartment lobby, I breathe in the fresh spring air.
I really need to get out more. Staying inside all day, even in ritzy penthouses, can’t be good for the soul.
The sun is warm on my face as I stride from the building, adding a little more pep in my step my eyes scan the curb for my ride.
Roscoe stands by the street with the car door already open for me and the engine running. A smile tugs at his lips as he greets me with a nod.
It’s been several days since I’ve been summoned for the job. Things have been pretty quiet around the apartment with the men off dealing with business. But after receiving a text to be ready to go when Roscoe pulls up, I’ve got my game face on.
The air is tense when I climb into the SUV where Callum is already waiting.
He’s focused on his phone, furiously typing either a text or an email.
As soon as I’m in the car, Roscoe climbs behind the wheel and we’re peeling away from the curb.
Looking between the two men, I feel like I’ve missed something.
“I feel like something’s wrong…” I let my voice trail off, meeting Roscoe’s eyes in the rearview mirror before turning my attention back to Callum.
“Things didn’t go how I planned, so it’s time to switch tactics.” The darkness beneath Callum’s words makes me pity whoever screwed him over. Feeling my gaze, he glances in my direction.
“You’re bleeding,” I say, startled, causing Callum to reach for his temple. His fingertips come away covered in blood. I scooch closer in concern, trying to get a better look. “Let me see.”
“I’m fine,” he argues.
“Let me see, Callum.” I’m not taking no for an answer. When he finally relents, I lean in closer to get a good look. It’s not life-threatening, but it’s deep. “You need stitches.”
“Alright, go ahead.”
“You want me to do it here? Right now?” I look around the back seat, at a loss.
“Yes.” Not seeing another choice, I lift the medical kit from the floor with a sigh.
“How did this happen?” I ask, rifling through the supplies for what I’ll need to sew him up.
“We raided a safehouse.” He’s back to typing on his phone. “The Russians didn’t go down without a fight.”
I’ve overheard him talking about his deal with Viktor Mikhailov. Callum arranged for one of Viktor’s men to be arrested—which all went down without a hitch—in exchange for a location. I’m guessing that location was for the safehouse. Callum’s been a busy boy the last four days.
“I can’t get the right angle sitting like this.
” I’m expecting him to realize the back seat of a car isn’t the ideal place for medical procedures.
What I’m not expecting is for him to put his phone down before pulling me onto his lap.
I gasp, quickly shifting to make sure the majority of my weight is supported by my knees.
“Is this angle better, Doc?” he asks as I stare at him wide-eyed. My eyes move over his face, and I give a small nod.
Hot damn.
Sucking in a breath, I focus on the task at hand. Or at least I try to.
“I need you to hold still,” I huff in frustration when a bump in the road has the needle I’m trying to aim at the deep cut on his left temple gets dangerously close to Callum’s eye.
Straddling his lap in a moving car is getting harder by the second as the burning starts in my thighs from my attempt to remain hovering. “Can we pull over?”
“We have somewhere to be,” Callum responds evenly.
“If you want me to sew you up, I need to be able to use this needle without giving you a nose piercing in the process.” My frustration is rising. If I could just remain steady and hover while we drive, that would be great.
With the gash on his forehead, I have a sneaking suspicion there are bruises and other injuries hidden under his suit. There’s no doubt in my mind that the man who did this to him is no longer breathing.
“Sit on my lap, all the way.” Callum’s gaze on me means business, his grip on my waist tightening.
“I’m heavy, I don’t want to hurt you.” My attempt to brush him off isn’t successful, and his hands slip to my hips firmly.
“I can take you. All of you.”
Still shaking my head, I fight to remain raised. “You’re injured, I’ll crush you.”
One of Callum’s hands moves from my waist to guide my chin until my eyes meet his. The intent in his gaze leaves no room for argument when he speaks.
“So crush me.” The hand on my hip adds pressure to lower me as I finally relent.
He wants my full two hundred and thirty-two pounds on his lap?
Fine, I’ll give the man what he wants. Releasing my legs, I sit on his lap without any support.
A noise of satisfaction sounds deep in Callum’s throat as I situate my body on his lap.
“That’s my girl.” Strong hands grip my hips, locking me in place against him. His words, spoken so deeply, send a wave of heat through me. My eyes lock with his, the pools of hazel pulling me in and threatening to drown me.
The sight of blood trailing down his left eyelid is an alarming reminder of what I’m doing here.
My heart skips a beat as I force a slow deep breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
I have to get this man stitched up before he bleeds everywhere.
Taking his chin in one hand, I tilt his head down for the best angle to address his wound.
“Now stay still,” I order, dabbing the gash with an iodine swab. I’m not about to let this get infected, especially an area so close to his eye.
“Whatever you say, Doc.” There’s something in his voice, something primal and self-satisfied, that has me glancing down. In this position, my breasts are barely a few short inches from his face and he has a very clear view of my chest down the V-neck of my top.
I can practically feel his eyes devouring every inch of exposed skin, and I struggle to ignore the sensations his hot breath against my skin elicit. With steady hands, I get to work.
“There,” I say, dabbing the blood from his face delicately. “You’re all fixed up.” The wound took four stitches and two butterfly bandages to properly close.
“Are you sure? Maybe you need to do a few more,” he says, making me bite back a smile as I roll my eyes.
“These will stay in for five days. Just make sure to keep them clean. A scar might add character to your pretty face, but guys who lose their eyes to infection have a harder time getting laid. Or so I’ve heard.”
“I plan on keeping my eyes exactly where they are.”
The double meaning is clear when I lean back on his lap and his eyes rake over me. Every inch of me burns under his intense gaze, stoking the spark deep in my core. I can feel him hardening beneath me, and I know if I don’t move now things are going to change between us.
Reading my mind, Callum’s grip on me tightens, one hand remaining solidly on my hip, while the other trails up to the small of my back to play with the ends of my hair.
“Callum, you’re hurt,” I remind him. His hungry eyes move over my face and land on my lips as I speak.
“Then it’s a good thing I have you here to nurse me back to health.” His arms flex, pulling me in closer until my mouth is just a breath from his. My eyes flicker to his mouth, so close and tempting. “Go ahead, Doc. Kiss it better.”
It’s a challenge, and I’ve never been one to shy away from a dare.
I lean in ever so slightly and Callum takes my invitation without hesitation.
His hand on my back closes the gap between us to take my lips in an all-consuming kiss.
Our mouths mold together, passion taking over.
The way Callum kisses is devastating, all hunger and need.
God, so much need.
A deep growl rumbles in his chest, vibrating against my hands, and then I’m being crushed against him until I’m not sure where my body ends and his begins.
His hand slides from my waist to palm one of my ass cheeks greedily as he all but eats at my mouth.
I let out a soft sigh, and I’m drunk on him.
“Fuck, you’re delicious.” His groan is primal, and he drinks me in like he’s a man dying of thirst. I’ve never been kissed like this before.
Callum’s everywhere; his hands on my body, his growls send pulses of heat between my thighs, his breath mixing with mine as our lips work into a frenzy. It’s like Callum’s only purpose in life is to be there with me, like his entire existence depends on invading every one of my senses.
“We’re here.” Roscoe’s voice pulls me from our little cloud of bliss and yanks me roughly back down to earth. Callum lets out a displeased grunt, reluctant as he leans back to look at me.
I’m sure I look a mess, all kiss-swollen and disheveled. I can see it in his eyes before he speaks a “go around the block” and pulls me back in. He isn’t done with me yet.
The feeling is mutual.
“Yes sir.” Roscoe’s verbal confirmation reminds me that I’m straddling a man’s lap. I’m suddenly aware that I’m having a heavy make-out session in a moving car. And we aren’t alone. Reading my mind, Callum’s hold on me tightens, his lips pulling my focus back to him.
And fuck if it doesn’t work.
A soft moan escapes me when his teeth catch my bottom lip and gives it a sharp nip before his tongue eases the tender pain.
The heat building inside me liquifies, my hips rocking against the hot erection I can feel hardening against my ass.
An overwhelming need to unzip his pants and feel what’s hiding underneath—what’s promising to completely unravel me—is almost too much to handle.
When Callum’s fingers slip inside the back of my pants as he palms my ass, it’s a slap back to reality. Callum wants to do this, right here, right now. And I want more than anything to let him in.
We’re in a moving car. And we’re not alone.