Chapter Thirty Sophie #2
"You know what, I don't even care why. Because you're just a pathetic bully, Elise." He shakes his head and laughs. "You know, you could have walked in here naked, and I wouldn't have been tempted. Not for a second. I'm not Paul. I can recognize when I have something real and wonderful."
That statement hits me hard, and tears flood my eyes. The words are spoken with such confidence that there's no doubt in my mind it's true. Callum is choosing me. Every day, every second.
I love you, I love you, I love you...
I watch as Callum's words hit Elise like a physical blow, her face twisting in embarrassment, her skin flushing bright red to match her dress.
"Get out," he says, his voice a low growl. "And don't ever try to come back here. You're not welcome. Not ever."
"Like I'd want to spend another minute here," she crosses her arms below her chest, pushing her cleavage up even more, and Callum's eyes don't move from hers, but his lips curl in disgust. "You guys are so... cute. Enjoy your time together. What's left of it."
"Get out!"
Callum's roar rattles the books on the shelves, the walls, and Maeve's hanging crystal trinkets from the ceiling, shaking from the force behind his words.
Elise flinches before storming past us toward the exit. Callum reaches out to me and tucks me into his side, and I instantly feel safer. He places a kiss on the crown of my head as I turn to watch Elise go. And I realize that I have a couple of things to say.
"Elise?" I call out to her, not moving from my spot under Callum's arm.
She stops in her tracks, taking a deep breath, before turning around.
I look at her, really look at her closely.
The trembling shoulders, as if she's trying to hold herself together.
She's here, trying to entice Callum, and not with Paul—did they break up?
Did he end our six-year engagement for something so fleeting?
Does Elise crave validation so much that she dressed herself up to come here and try to tempt another man away from me?
How sad is that?
I look at her, and I don't feel anger, I don't feel like asking her these questions, I don't feel sadness or insecurity. All I see is a sad woman who's lashing out—hurt people hurt people—and she's waiting for me to insult her and rub her face in my victory.
But I don't do any of that, because I don't want to waste the energy. She's not worth it.
Instead, when I look at her, all I feel is pity.
"What?" she snarls, her face twisting into a sneer. Her hostile tone doesn't affect me. Doesn't even rattle me.
So, I smile at her.
Because—really—she did me a favor.
"Thank you."
She blinks, clearly not having expected that.
"What?"
"Thank you. Seriously. Because I actually will enjoy the time I have left—however long that is. I'm going to enjoy it with Callum."
His arm around me tightens, grounding me, silent support saying that I'm here, I'm not going anywhere.
"And, well..." I shrug. "You can have Paul. He's all yours."
Okay, that one was a bit of a dig—but I think it was well deserved.
She opens her mouth to retort, then seems to think better of it before she snaps it closed. She looks at me and then looks at Callum, who's still glaring at her, and then turns and walks right out of the bookstore, slamming the door closed hard enough for the bell to crash to the floor.
The silence after she leaves is deafening, thick with lingering tension.
The only sound is Callum's breathing, sounding like he's just run a mile, and a low growling sound coming from him.
Tilting my chin back, I look up at his stormy face and lay a hand on his chest, which snaps him out of it.
He leans down to kiss my forehead, murmuring against it. "Are you okay, baby?"
"Y-Yes," I nod my head, feeling a bit shaky like I normally do after confrontations.
I lift my hands to his cheeks, holding him and breathing through it as he coaches me, "That's it, just breathe. You were so brave, so strong. Just breathe, sweet girl. My sweet girl. I'm so proud of you."
I can't take it anymore.
Shaky, I lift up on my tiptoes and crush my lips to his, feral and starving for him.
Callum, of course, responds in kind and wraps his arms around me.
He lifts me up off the ground, easily holding me as he deepens the kiss.
He slides one hand under my ass and lifts, hiking me up higher, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He groans at that and slides his tongue against mine.
Time ceases to exist, and I totally forget that we're in his store in the middle of the day. All that matters is Callum's lips moving against mine, me wrapped in his arms, and the pulsing in my pussy. He sets me down on the cash register counter, and I keep my legs around him.
"Callum..." I moan against his lips, his groan vibrating against my chest pressed to his, my arms winding around his neck. "Thank you."
"For what, baby?"
"For choosing me."
"Always, my otter. Always," he promises, his voice so sincere it causes my eyes to sting. I squeeze my legs, pulling him in tighter to me, and his hands press me tighter to him. Neither of us can get close enough.
"Oh!"
At the exclamation, Callum and I break apart and glance over to see Maeve standing in the doorway of the store. There are flowers in one arm and a bag from her favorite local metaphysical supply store.
Mortification floods me. God, what is with us getting caught making out? I unhook my legs from Callum's waist and move to scoot off the register. Callum catches me and guides me down, his face flushing red.
"Sorry, mom, we—"
She's not even looking at us; she’s walking further into the store and searching for something. "The energy in this store is..." she scrunches her face up in disgust, her nose crinkling like she smells something awful.
"I need to cleanse. You guys get out of here.
I'll close up early. This... this is an emergency," Maeve says, walking over to the front and grabbing some incense.
My lips twitch, and my eyes meet an equally amused Callum's as we watch his mom flit around the room, burning a smudge stick of lavender and mugwort.
"Whoever was in here was foul," she shakes her head, her voice low and severe.
"Got that right," Callum mutters, before grabbing his keys and wallet from the register and grabbing my hand. We head toward the door before her voice stops us, calling out my name. When I turn, I find her looking at me with a soft smile.
"You look beautiful, my dove."
"Thank you," I smile at her and touch the moonstone, always around my neck.
Callum lifts up our joined hands to kiss mine before guiding us out of the store and to his truck.
◆◆◆
The entire ride to my apartment had been made in simmering silence—the tension between us thick enough to slice. The anticipation felt borderline painful. I sat in the passenger seat, squeezing my thighs together and uselessly trying to find some relief from this ache between my legs.
Callum noticed this, of course. His dark eyes kept glancing over to me, his pupils completely blown, dropping to my lap before snapping back to the road. His jaw clenched, and he white knuckled the steering wheel as he drove carefully through town.
I knew he could feel it too.
The cab of his truck had felt almost uncomfortably warm—not because of the heater, but because my entire body felt like it was burning from the inside out with need for him.
Once I unlock the front door and we step inside, Callum's control snaps, and he backs me up against the door, his mouth covering mine.
There's a desperate urgency in our touches.
His hands roam along my body, holding my hips, one arm sliding up my back, and the other wrapping around my waist to press me closer.
It leaves a trail of fire in its wake, and I need these clothes gone and his hands on my skin.
"Bedroom," I pant against his mouth, squeaking when he lifts me off the ground with ease.
That high-pitched sound makes him chuckle, that rich, gravelly laugh I love—I know I'm quite petite, but the way he can just lift me up with no effort really does it for me.
My legs wrap around his waist, and I can't help but move my hips when I feel his hard cock in his pants.
Knowing the layout of my apartment by now, he navigates us to the bedroom, and we tumble onto the bed together.
Ever the careful giant, Callum catches himself before he crushes me.
I yank him down anyway, needing his lips on mine and kiss him deeply, tangling our tongues together.
I can feel his legs moving and the heavy thuds on the floor as he kicks off his boots.
He then pulls back, carefully unlaces, and pulls my shoes off as well.
When he comes back to me, he brushes a strand of hair from my face. I realize that I still have my wig on.
"Wait, let me—" I tell him, and he immediately stops, pulling back.
Callum watches me intently as I gently pull the wig off, feeling a slight ripple of vulnerability pass through me.
Only for a moment, though, because when I look back at Callum, his expression never changes.
No hesitation, no flicker of disgust or disappointment.
He still looks at me with those hungry eyes, like he's ravenous for me.
Chancing a glance down, I see the outline of his cock through his jeans, and I smile—feeling desired and beautiful.
Callum helps me stand up, and I walk over to the dresser where I had placed the mannequin head, and lay the wig on it carefully, as Sasha showed me.
When I walk back to the bed, Callum stands up and cups my face in his warm hands.
"God, you are so damn beautiful," he says, his voice a low murmur.
He tilts my face, and I giggle when he leans in, and the gentle scratch of his beard tickles me.
He kisses my cheeks, my forehead, my eyes, before finally meeting my lips again.
The gentle worship in his touch makes me feel precious.