CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Callahan
Walking away at the club was hard.
Wanting her is even harder.
And this back and forth is hardest on my balls—who are feeling the brunt of this game.
But I held my ground. I didn’t push her against the wall and take and taint her like I wanted to right there in the club. There’s something to be said for that because restraint isn’t my strong suit.
That’s what she wants, isn’t it? For me to prove I have no control? That I only think of my needs and not hers or the possible repercussions and fallout that would harm her?
So I did the unthinkable, something the me of last week would have never done—I walked the fuck away.
And now as the clock keeps ticking later and later, I’m sitting in our darkened villa questioning my choices.
Next time, I won’t.
Next time, I’ll say fuck the bullshit game and take exactly what I want because this, her, us, is driving me fucking insane.
So I take another sip of my whiskey, waiting with my eyes closed and my head swimming and my thoughts running.
Two in the morning. That’s when I hear the fumbling at the front door and the laughed-out curse as the lock beeps to tell her that her key card didn’t engage.
Then the door pushes open and Sutton stumbles inside with a “Whoopsie,” falling from her mouth. She drops her purse on the counter with a loud thud and then clumsily pulls her shoes off one by one before tossing them haphazardly to the floor.
She giggles again—that’s twice tonight she’s giggled.
It’s so strange to hear the sound from such a controlled, headstrong woman, but it pulls a smile to my lips.
She weaves over to pick up a water bottle from the table and takes a long, greedy gulp before simply standing there with her eyes closed and a dopey smile on her lips.
Her skirt is crooked and her top is falling off one shoulder. She looks like a hot mess and yet, still adorable when before, I’ve only seen her as sexy.
Stop, Callahan. Let her go to bed and not know you’re sitting here.
I can’t resist.
“Have fun?”
She jumps at the sound of my voice and then visibly relaxes when she finds me sitting across the room from her in the dark. “You waited up for me?” She moves across the room. “How cute.”
“Just unwinding,” I murmur, angling my head to look up at her where she stands in front of me.
“In the dark at whatever time this is?”
“Mm-hmm. I like this time of night when everyone is asleep and the silence speaks.”
“I thought you were a morning person.”
“I’m a lot of things, Sutton.”
She stares at me, head tilted, teeth biting her bottom lip.
Fuck, she’s cute. “What does the silence say?” she whispers as she takes it upon herself to step between my legs and sit on one of my knees.
I put one hand on her waist to help steady her.
Her glassy eyes meet mine and she narrows them while she waits for an answer.
“That you’re going to have one hell of a headache in the morning.” I move my hand off her waist and play with a lock of hair that’s fallen out of her ponytail, rubbing it between my fingers.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” She yawns and looks at me with half-closed eyelids. “Do I have an expiration date, Johnnie?”
“A what?” I laugh.
“Brady told me you’re the type of man who gives a woman an expiration date—that you only play with them for so long—so I was wondering if I have one?” The look in her eyes is so earnest it undoes me in a way I’ve never been undone before.
Is this her way of asking if I’m over her?
Does she not see that that’s the furthest thing from the truth?
“Sutton—”
“I’m sleepy,” she murmurs and then without any warning, leans forward and lays on my chest. Her body snuggles into mine with her cheek on my shoulder and the tip of her nose under my jaw.
I hesitate. I’m not sure why I do after we slept together in her bed the other night, but I do.
I take that back.
I know why I hesitate. It’s because since that night, things have changed between us and maybe I’m just desperate to get us back to before.
To when I didn’t snuggle or care. Back to when I had sex then parted ways.
Back to when there was no meaningful conversation or room for misunderstanding that more might be an option.
Back to when I thought I was a good thing for her but now fear I’m not.
And yet . . . I wrap my arm around her, pull her into me, and breathe her in.
“Did you figure it out yet, Cal?” She emits a slurred chuckle. “Do you mind if I call you Cal?”
“Yes. I mind. My brothers call me that, and it’s only when they’re trying to piss me off.” I run a hand down her back as I think about it. “Lately they seem to call me that all the time.”
“Hmm,” she says and then falls quiet. I think she’s actually fallen asleep on me, but then she finally speaks, her voice soft.
“I know how that feels. The always being in trouble part.” She chuckles softly.
“He was never happy with what I did. He set me up to fail for his own amusement. Asked me questions in front of his friends only to let me know my answers were wrong. Encouraged me to take the painting class I’d been wanting to take, only to make fun of what I created at the class showing.
I thought love meant giving him what he needed, but .
. . he took parts of me I didn’t even realize I’d given away until it was too late. ”
“Sutton,” I say, uncertain if I’m giving it as a warning to make her aware of how much she’s sharing when she’s tipsy, or so I feel better that I did while wanting her to continue regardless.
“His career came first. His happiness. His . . . pleasure.” She snorts.
“That’s why I’m here. That’s why Lizzy told me to do one thing for me.
” Lizzy? One thing? “What girl turns down promotions because her boyfriend’s ego gets hurt that she might advance faster than he does?
This girl, right here.” She lifts a hand and then lets it fall with a thud against my chest. “What girl is so ashamed that she let him steal days and years and hours from her life when she thought she was strong but really wasn’t? This girl, right here.”
“You are strong, Collins,” I murmur and press a kiss to her head as an unexplained fury vibrates beneath my skin.
She laughs as if she doesn’t believe a word I’ve said.
“That’s what you think.” Another snort. She runs the tip of her nose against my jawbone and then back down.
“Don’t be too sexy. Don’t draw too much attention to yourself.
Talking to other men is considered flirting to me,” she says in a pretend man’s voice.
“And God forbid any of that was allowed regardless of how alive it made me feel inside.” She shakes her head. “All I wanted was to feel alive.”
“He’s gone now,” I whisper.
“Clint. Clint was his name.” She lifts a middle finger in the air that makes me smile.
“I’ve never liked that name.”
“Me neither.”
“Fuck you, Clint.” I lift my glass in a silent toast and take a drink.
She laughs now, her hand sliding between the buttons on my shirt and resting on the bare skin of my chest. Does she have any clue how much I crave her touch?
“You make me feel alive, Callahan.”
“Sutton . . .” This woman leaves me at a loss for words more than anyone else in my life.
“Did you know that this girl had no clue you could have multiple orgasms during sex because her boyfriend was selfish and didn’t give a rat’s ass about her pleasure? I didn’t know until . . . you.”
Something akin to emotion lodges in my throat and makes it hard to swallow. The urge to lift her chin and kiss her mouth is there. The want to slide my hand up the line of her thigh and dip into the heaven between them even stronger.
But right now, nothing feels right. Not her confession. Not how it makes me feel. Not that I’m okay with a woman basically lying on top of me without the promise for more.
“Why can’t you be what I need?” she murmurs sleepily, absently, as if she’s already dreaming.
“I’m not what anyone needs, Collins,” I whisper. You have to be worth something to be needed. “Ever.”
“I disagree,” she says in a childish voice. “Why haven’t you tried to sleep with me again? Is it because my expiration date has past? Is it because you’ve moved on?”
“It’s none of that,” I murmur, hearing my own answer and feeling uncertain about what it means.
“Then fuck me, Johnnie,” she whispers. The same words she whispered that first night, and every ounce of my being has to fight the urge not to respond.
“Not like this, Collins.” I press another absent kiss to the top of her hair. “Not when you’re like this.”
“Why?”
Because I want you to remember. Because I want to know every fucking sensation is being felt by you too.
“Because you deserve better than that.”
“Such a good man. You know that, don’t you? What a good man you are? That’s why I’ve fallen for you.” She emits a soft chuckle that falls off and her breath evens out.
I swear I stop breathing for a second. She’s drunk. It’s the alcohol talking, and I’m just being a nice guy so she’s mistaking that feeling of comfort for more.
You can explain it away any which way you want, Callahan, but those words just slipped past her lips. Words that come on the heels of so much more blatant honesty that it’s pretty damn hard to ignore them.
Hell, if my pulse isn’t racing right now, and my mouth isn’t suddenly dry.
“Thank you, Callahan.” Her words slur as she presses a soft kiss to the side of my neck. “For making me realize to never settle again.”
I open my mouth to speak, but fuck. Emotions, thoughts, bullshit thunder through me in a confusing eddy that leave me speechless. And as I struggle with what to say, a soft snore slips from her mouth and saves me the trouble.
It’s hard to brush it under the rug in true Sharpe fashion when her warm body is still lying on top of me and her words are front and center.
For making me realize to never settle again.
Sutton Pierce.
That’s why I’ve fallen for you.
She talks like she’s this weak woman, but all I’ve seen from her is strength. Talk about the queen of contradictions. Sexy and defiant but a little bit broken underneath.
Aren’t we all, Cal? Aren’t you?
My sigh is heavy because the answer is yes, but mine is self-inflicted and hers was at the hand of another.
So is that what this is all about? This game? The need to know another man isn’t going to screw her over before she gives more of herself?
Christ. Is that what I do? Screw women over and make them feel like the slimy fucker Clint did? I scrub a hand over my face and then rest it on her bare thigh that’s draped over mine.
No. No fucking way. I don’t promise shit—more, forever, happily ever after—anything of the sort. I don’t demean. I don’t belittle. I give pleasure. I walk away.
And yet, her words make me question my actions when I’ve never questioned them before.
What’s in it for me?
Is this her way to get some of the pieces back? The ones he stole and ruined? To own who she is and the sexuality he shamed her for?
Is that the answer to her question?
What’s in it for me?
Is the answer her? That she finds herself again?
I chew the inside of my cheek and listen to the silence scream.
To my thoughts whispering quietly inside that scream.
And I know I don’t want that to be the right answer.
That it can’t be.
Because I’m pretty certain that once Sutton Pierce finds herself, she’ll be gone to me.
She’ll know her worth, she’ll own it, and she’ll know without a doubt that a guy like me, who doesn’t make promises, isn’t worth her salt.
She wants . . . deserves a man who stays. Who knows how to commit with his whole heart. And that man is not me. I can’t let Sutton think that I’m up for her challenge.
The game has changed.
And this selfish prick doesn’t want to play anymore.