Canada Square (Love in London 3) - Page 82

I decide to take a calculated risk. “It’s okay, I’ll stay at my boyfriend’s.”

Lara and Alex turn to look at me, their mouths dropping open as if they are synchronised. Alex is the first to recover. “You’re back with Luke?”

“No!” I shout. “My new boyfriend. Someone from work.”

“Okay…” he says slowly. “I want to hear all about this. Especially why you think it’s okay to spend the night with someone you’ve just started seeing.”

With that, Mum’s forgotten, at least for a moment, and the spotlight turns onto me. Although I usually hate it, the need to talk about Callum overrides everything else. By the time I leave the flat, Alex and Lara are in no doubt that I’m in love with a certain Scot from Richards and Morgan.

* * *

I leave Callum in no doubt, either, as soon as he opens the door to his house.

“Hey, how was…”

I silence his words with a kiss, pushing him inside until he hits the cool wall of his hallway. I move my lips against his, hard and demanding, needing his touch to erase the fatigue of the day. He doesn’t try to talk again, just cradles my face with his large, warm hands, and I let the heat seep into my skin.

It radiates inward, soaking into my muscles. He drags his hands lower, feathering down my spine, cupping my bottom as he pulls me to him.

I thread my fingers into his hair, tugging hard, needing to have him closer still. I want to feel, to be felt, to forget about everything except just how good it is to be in his arms.

“What was that for?” Callum asks when we separate. He’s as breathless as I am, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I place my hand in the centre, feeling his heartbeat, my fingers splayed out against his firm torso.

“I was just saying hello,” I reply innocently.

“In that case, I can’t wait to see how you say goodbye.”

Smirking, I give him a wave of my hand and spin on my heels, heading towards the front door. “Bye!”

“Oh no you don't,” he growls, grabbing my wrist and pulling me back. “You’re staying here tonight.”

I twirl, feeling light-hearted and giddy. This is what he does to me, every time.

“Oh, you want me to stay?” I bat my lashes at him.

“You’re staying whether you like it or not.”

“Ooh,” I purse my lips. “Like a love slave.”

“A willing love slave,” he says, feathering his hands down my sides. “One who won’t know what’s hit her just as soon as I’ve thrown her onto my bed.”

“Is that a threat?” I murmur, running a finger along his jaw. It’s rough and dark from a day’s growth of beard.

“It’s a promise, sweetheart. There are some things you should know about me by now. I like my coffee bitter, my women sweet and I always keep my promises.” With that, he lifts me up until my legs wrap around his waist, and carries me to his bedroom, throwing me on the mattress so hard that I bounce a couple of times. I only still when he lays on top of me.

“I can’t promise to be sweet,” I say, as his fingers impatiently tug at the buttons on my blouse. He pulls it open, until the white silk is covering only my arms, and my chest is exposed to the air. Sliding his fingers underneath the straps of my bra, he pushes them to the side until the cups fall down, and I’m almost naked from the waist up.

A shot of pure pleasure pulses through me when he pulls one of my nipples between his lips, his stubble scratching my skin as it skims my breast. My toes curl as he presses his palm to my stomach. His hand moves down, beneath my waistband and a soft sigh escapes my lips.

“So fucking sweet,” he says, his words vibrating against me.

I’m too far gone to say anything, but I have to admit I agree wholeheartedly.

26

The next morning starts with a panic. I realise too late that I have no clean work clothes with me, and the thought of turning up to the office in yesterday’s suit is too embarrassing. So I end up travelling halfway across London at some ungodly hour of the morning, taking a taxi-ride of shame.

Callum thinks it’s hilarious. He goes as far as to offer me one of his shirts, which is tantamount to tattooing the details of our relationship across my forehead. When I tell him ‘no’, he shrugs, a grin still on his face, and I can hear his guffaws when I step out onto the street.

Tags: Carrie Elks Love in London Romance
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