Chapter Twenty-Four Lexie
Opening my eyes to an unfamiliar dark room, I’m confused.
Looking around in the darkness, my eyes land on the large man in 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 comes 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—but I really have to use the bathroom 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 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 go to my room instead.
Flushing the toilet and washing my hands, I look up and catch my reflection in the mirror.
My blonde hair is a mess, the long locks in disarray without my usual middle part.
My makeup is smudged, with mascara running under my eyes.
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 vise grip forming 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.
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 and my sister down into obedient drones.
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 decide I’m done.
Still in my robe, I walk barefoot to the kitchen.
The under-cabinet lights glow softly along the length of the counter, illuminating the room in a dim, ambient glow.
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 towards Callum’s room, but it’s all silent. I’m not supposed to answer the door, not since Callum first arrived at the penthouse. But it can’t hurt to check who it is at least.
Placing my glass down on the island, 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 a large manila 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 2 a.m.
“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 he’s sleeping,” I say. It’s the truth, and I’m not about to tell Roscoe I just left Callum in his bed. Just when I’m going to suggest he go to Callum’s room and wake him up, the man 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 focusing on the 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 they talk.