CHAPTER 15
Victoria
I see all of him.
That’s when I remember that he’s seeing all of me, too.
I scream again, reaching down to grab the towel I’d just dropped at my feet. My hands shake as I clumsily tie off the terry cloth under my arms. I’m breathing heavily.
What have I done?
Cal hasn’t moved. He remains standing in the center of the hot tub, his chiseled arms hanging loose at his sides.
Water still drips down his skin. I should apologize and run back into the house and hide.
But I’m frozen where I stand because I can’t seem to look away from the vision of male perfection in front of me.
He’s even more spectacular than I’d imagined, and I have a very advanced imagination.
Is it the steak he eats every night? Is it the manual labor he does around the ranch?
His years as a SEAL? It could be some kind of genetic anomaly, because this guy looks like he’s been carved from granite.
His percentage of body fat must be in the low single digits. Or maybe zero, if that’s even possible.
I’ve never seen a man this perfect, anywhere. Not airbrushed underwear models. Not oiled-up bodybuilders. Not the hunkiest of movie stars. No one.
Cal MacLaine is flawless.
“You done yet?”
I rip my gaze from his below-the-neck playground to focus on his face. “What?”
“Are you done. With the staring. At my body.”
“No. I mean…yes?” My answer is nothing but a pitiful, confused squeak.
He laughs. Then I watch him raise his arms, close his eyes, and tilt back his head so he can use his fingers to rake his wet hair from his face. The gesture is so blatantly sexual that I think I may pass out. He grabs a towel from the railing and ties it low on his hips.
I guess the party’s over.
“I…” I try to form words. “I never would have come out here if I knew you were naked.” I shake my head and start over. “I mean if I knew you were in the hot tub. Naked.”
I sound as if I don’t have two brain cells to rub together. He’s so fucking hot I think he may have short-circuited my entire nervous system.
“I didn’t realize I needed your permission to soak in my own hot tub.
” He steps out and stands on the deck about a foot away from me.
Two puddles form at his feet. He stares at me with empty eyes.
I decide his face needs one of those sentences I sometimes see on printed sales contracts: this space left intentionally blank.
“I didn’t see much.” This is a terrible lie. But I can’t think of a better one.
Cal laughs again. “No worries. I didn’t see much either.”
It’s time for me to walk away. I’ve just passed awkward and am swerving directly into mortification. So why don’t I walk? Why can't I move? Why am I still standing here in my towel like the brainless bimbo I’ve become?
Cal sighs and folds his ripped arms across his ripped chest. “Since we’re being so honest with each other, how about you tell me the real reason you’re here. Why do you want to get your money-grubbing hands on Sulfur Springs?”
Thank goodness he’s brought up business again. It restarts my brain and my vocal cords. “I explained all that at your father’s house.”
“I mean the real reason,” he growls. “And what the hell did you mean by high-interest loans?”
“I can't speak to your father’s finances. That’s for him to disclose to you if he wishes.”
His brow crumples in anger. At least his face has become something other than a blank slate.
“You will not take advantage of my father. I’m in charge here, and it’s me you’ll be dealing with.
And sweet cheeks, I got some bad news for you.
I am no pushover. This ranch is not easy money. And I am onto you.”
“According to my report, your father is in charge of Yosemite Ranch. Not you.” I wag my finger at him for emphasis. “So maybe you’re the one taking advantage of James MacLaine.”
I tip my head and try to look bored. “Whatever.”
Cal narrows his eyes and snarls. He’s furious. Intimidating. Big. And though I’m not scared for my personal safety, the intensity of his emotion and his sheer physical power makes me step back in self-preservation.
“It’s a good thing you’re not a man,” he growls. “I’ve destroyed men who’ve caused half the damage you’re attempting. My brothers and I moved back to the ranch to help my dad. We saved the ranch, saved our family home. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I roll my eyes. “Listen, no offense, but I wish I had a dollar for every time I’ve had this conversation with a family member—always a man, by the way—who’s sure he has the skills and resources to save the family business. Never works.”
“You’ve got it wrong, lady.” He steps closer. He’s now just a few inches away. I feel the heat coming off him in waves. “This isn’t a strip mall or a mom-and-pop construction company you’re trying to steal. This is sacred land. MacLaine land. And only fools threaten the MacLaines.”
“Oh, please.”
“If you fuck with us, you will regret it. We’re a band of brothers. A family of warriors. The instant you prepare to take your first shot, you’ve already lost. You got me?”
I have one or two snarky comebacks ready to go, but my vocal cords have closed up. My legs are frozen in place again.
He’s too close to me. I can smell the pheromones popping off him. I can feel the passion pulse from his skin. He’s staring down at me from a foot above. His massive frame dwarfs mine. I was once self-confident, submissive to no one.
Apparently, my rules have changed.
We both know this isn’t about business. The jockeying for power isn’t just to gain the upper hand in the cat-and-mouse world of private equity acquisitions. Cal’s plenty angry, but there’s something more happening with him. It’s happening with me too.
I know it’s crazy. I know it’s impossible. But we’re dealing with a sexual attraction as wild as a force of nature, an animal that can’t be caged.
He wants me. And I want him.
And we’re hiding that truth in the language of business, with warnings and threats and promises of regret. Oh, he’s pissed off. No doubt about it. He’s so pissed off that he hisses at me through gritted teeth. He flashes his eyes at me.
He’s angry because he doesn’t want to want me. Hey, join the club.
So what’s stopping us?
Two bath towels.
Two separate objectives.
Two different worlds.
We stand that way, frozen, face-to-face, our bodies almost touching, for what seems like an eternity. I don’t feel time progress. I don’t feel the deck under my feet. The only thing I’m sure of is that whatever we decide to do next will change the future for both of us, forever.
The problem is, we’re enemies.
Cal closes his eyes briefly, then opens them again. When he looks at me, the anger is gone. It’s replaced by remorse. It’s clear he’s come to the same conclusion I have. He gives his head a barely perceptible shake, steps around me, and goes into the house.
Only after hearing the door close am I able to let go of the breath I’m holding.
I don’t really know what just happened, but there’s an understanding between us now.
And though we didn’t act on it—and I plan to fight it with everything in me—I have this sinking feeling that my life is irrevocably changed.
I go back into the house through the main door.
My phone sits in the middle of the dark table, the fairy lights glinting off the metal.
Right next to it is the leftover wine from dinner.
I grab it. No need for a glass. I return to my room with my goodies, checking my messages while drinking straight from the bottle.
This is a rare vintage, intended to be savored, not chugged. Oh well. Shit happens.
I take off my towel and slip between the bedsheets, dropping my head to the pillow. I feel sad. Raw. Feverish. I can’t sleep knowing that Cal’s in the house. All of Cal. All of his perfection.
And I’m not just talking about his body, which is enough perfection to keep any woman occupied for the rest of her days. I mean the whole package. The whole man. Who he is.
A perfectly hot-headed, stubborn, super-alpha man of principle.
How am I supposed to resist that?
Under any other circumstances, I wouldn’t even try. I’d shamelessly throw myself into his arms while asking the universe how I got so lucky. But these are not “other” circumstances. All I’ve got is reality.
And I’ve only known him for a day.
Eventually, after some time passes, I give in to my hormonal fever, the desperate beast that Cal has unleashed. I have to satisfy myself or I’m going to explode. My hand slips down between my legs and I fantasize that it’s his hand I feel and not my own.
I bring myself to a shaking climax, almost immediately.
I bite down on my bottom lip so I don’t cry out. Then I lay there in the dark, tears spilling from my eyes, shocked by the power of that release. I’ve never felt anything like it.
I guess the mere act of fantasizing about Callum MacLaine is far more satisfying than all the real-life, flesh-and-blood experiences I’ve ever had, combined.
I really hate that.
But I turn on my side, a smile curling my lips. Just the fantasy may be all I need. I’m not even sure I could survive real sex with the flesh-and-blood Callum MacLaine. The man has a lot to offer—I just saw it with my own eyes.
I wonder if a woman can cum so hard and so often that it’s hazardous to her health.
I contemplate this important question as I fall into a dark, deep sleep.