19. Mason
Chapter nineteen
Things began to change between Callie and me after that first day working on the house.
It had already been building from the moment we met, a train travelling to an unknown destination at a steady pace until the course redirected, and suddenly, it was gaining speed.
Whatever line we tiptoed around when she first started working for me, the one that kept us safely on our own sides, had started to move, dipping and weaving to the point where you can’t see where boss and employee, friends, or something else entirely belonged—it all just mixed into some intoxicating concoction of I need more. More of everything.
Sleeping at night has become pointless. It’s not enough to spend most of my days around her because by the time I fall into bed, she’s still on my mind.
I lay there, replaying all the moments with her from the day. Every smile, every moment she’s opened up about her past, letting me see more of her.
Then there are the moments she puts on her glasses, and I start sweating, cock stirring beneath the sheets.
I throw off the blankets, attempting to cool down, but it never helps.
The second cool air hits my rock-hard cock, the fantasies take over.
All I can see is her sitting above me, hands braced on my chest as she bounces slowly up and down.
It’s never me driving into her, taking her hard and fast from behind, which is what I normally do with women, never wanting to look them in the eyes cos I don’t want them to see me.
No. When I imagine Callie, it’s always in a way I can stare deep into her eyes.
It’s her nails scoring the skin over my heart.
It’s her taking ownership of me because I’m powerless to keep possession of myself when it comes to her.
And when I finally grip my cock, moving my hand up and down, toes curling and hips arched as if I’m begging to reach her, my thumb teasing over the ring through the tip, it’s her name that I groan into the still room as cum coats my stomach.
Only then can I finally sleep for a few hours before my brain wakes me up because I know I get to see her again.
Collect more little moments of her to replay when I’m back to being alone.
There was never any hope of keeping things professional with Callie Moore—not when I count down the hours until I see her, or when I wait until the end of the day to shower just so I can keep her sweet caramel scent around me.
“What about this one?” Callie holds up a sample tile of a white benchtop with a subtle grey vein running through the marble, pulling me from my thoughts. Even when she’s right beside me, my mind can’t get enough.
We’ve got samples spread out all over the long table in Beth’s design library, arranging them together as we agree on each selection: a white for the cabinets, a brushed gold for the cabinetry, a cloudy grey for the bathroom tiles, and wide oak floorboards with a deep espresso stain.
“I like this.” I take the sample from her and put it with the rest of the colours we’ve chosen.
“What’s next?” she asks, picking up her iced strawberry matcha.
I pick up my list, along with my iced chocolate. “Splashback tiles and paint.”
“Okay, hear me out.” She licks her lips before setting her drink down and jumping up onto the table. My eyes are stuck on the spot, vaguely aware of her flipping through the pages of a book. “I saw this before, and I reckon it could be really cool for a bit of colour.”
She turns the brochure around, showing an image of a white tile with a blue floral design that creates a repeating pattern. It looks vintage, like something you’d see on Grams’s fancy china.
“Could you imagine this just in that recessed part where the blue stove is? And then I was thinking about just the island bench having blue cabinetry. To break up the white and make sure the blue doesn’t look random.
” She looks down at the pages, and I track the swallow that bobs down her throat, her next words sounding less sure.
“I dunno. I like how it would be kinda unexpected, and I like the idea of colour in the kitchen if it’s somewhere the family is always going to be. ”
Her reasons make me smile. She doesn’t just pick what she thinks looks good or what other people would like, she’s imagining what it would be like to live in this space. To be honest, I’m imagining her there too.
I step closer to her, my stomach brushing against her knees as I take the brochure from her hands.
“I love it,” I say. When I look up, Callie’s focused on my lips.
My own eyes drop to hers. Why does this feel like the perfect moment to kiss her? I’ve never had moments like this, ones that feel like you’re answering fate. Some predetermined destiny, following along behind you until you were ready to take it into your own hands.
If she were anyone else, other than my employee. If I were anyone else, other than someone who didn’t shy away from love, I would have done it already. I would have taken a chance on her long ago. I would have accepted that she was put in my path for a reason.
I’m not sure who leans in first. It happens too slowly, like a cosmic shift, until the reckoning descends in the form of my sister.
“Helloooooo,” she sings.
Callie and I jump apart.
I step back, setting the brochure down with the rest of our selections, seeing the full picture.
“Having fun?” Beth walks around the table, resting a palm on the surface as she delivers a knowing smirk to me, and something about it looks scarier than normal, but I can’t put my finger on it.
Callie jumps off the table, avoiding both our faces. “I think we’re doing okay. We’re certainly not as experienced as you with this stuff.”
“Good God, Callie! Do vegans not drink coffee either?” Beth stares wide-eyed at the iced, green drink in front of her.
“They can. I’ve just never been a fan.”
“Huh. What an interesting choice of free will,” Beth says, tacking on a pacifying smile.
“Are you having an allergic reaction or something?” I ask, staring at her forehead that’s redder than usual.
“What?” She shrieks, then starts rifling through her handbag until she pulls out a mirror.
“No.” She lets out a relieved sigh. “I just got them waxed.”
“Off?”
“Beauty is pain, brother. We can’t all use shampoo as hair, face, and body wash and still somehow look flawless.” Beth looks me up and down, mouth turning down in a grimace as if I’ve personally offended her. “Ugh, men.”
She stalks off into her office, and I look at Callie. “How was that my fault?”
She chuckles and picks up the paint deck, flipping through the colours.
“Sooo, how’s custody going with your ex?”
Her shoulders drop, and her lips twist as she continues to browse through the fifty thousand shades of white.
“It’s been delayed for more pressing matters for the moment.”
“Isn’t he in jail?” I ask, picking up another paint deck.
“Ah, so you were eavesdropping the other day.”
“I wouldn’t say eavesdropping… My door was open, and you and Beth weren’t whispering.”
She chuckles. “Yes. He still had another five months left on his sentence, but it looks like he’s getting out early. He and his lawyer are more occupied with that than his own daughter, but I’m used to the fathers in my life disappointing me.”
I hate that for her. A visceral, deep-rooted hate. My fists land against the table, steadying myself against a fight to act, to do something, anything, to make it better. “If you ever need help with that, let me know. My lawyers are really good.”
“Thanks. I doubt I could afford your lawyer considering what mine is, but thank you all the same.” She fans out the deck, pausing over one particular shade with a smile.
“What about this one?” She places a soft white next to the rest of the samples. “Love Note.”
Her hand rests against the table, fingers inches from mine. I watch as her pinky flexes. Mine does too, like a current of energy pulling us together.
I swallow. Eyes slowly tracing over her exposed skin.
Goose bumps pebble over her arm, and I don’t know if it’s the temperature of the room or my attention that conjures the response.
My lungs feel heavy as my eyes travel to her collarbone, then the freckle on her top lip.
My mouth grows dry when our eyes lock.
I’m thinking about kissing her again.
But I can’t go there. Can I? No, she’s my assistant.
She’s going through enough with her ex and her dad.
She has a baby. I overheard her just a few weeks ago telling Josh she’s not looking to date.
I’ve never looked to date. I’m certain it’s the constant proximity to her that is sending my thoughts all over the place, because I don’t date.
I don’t let women in because I don’t want to be disappointed when they inevitably show me all the ways I’m not good enough to be someone’s person, and it’s never truly bothered me, but I don’t think I could handle that when it comes to Callie.
I like the way she looks at me, the way she talks to me as if she values my words, and how she makes me feel like I’m getting the real version of her.
I think that’s just who she is as a person, though.
It’s nothing to do with me. I need to remember she’s here to work, nothing else.
I clear my throat, putting necessary distance between us.
Callie pulls away, stacking all the chosen samples together. “Should I start putting in orders with the suppliers for these?” she asks, avoiding my eyes.
“Yeah. That’d be great. Thanks.”
She nods, piling everything into her hands, and I can’t tell if she’s a great actress or if maybe I affect her too.