Chapter 37 THIRTY-SEVEN
The second dinner was at some upscale steakhouse in Pacific Heights. More investors, more small talk, more performing. But easier this time. Lennox knew what to expect, how to navigate the conversations without feeling like she was drowning.
And Callum kept looking at her across the table with that expression she still couldn't quite read.
They left around ten, both buzzed on wine and good deals and something else neither would name. The car ride back was different from the night before. Less quiet. More... charged.
"Did you see Richard's face when Diane called out his portfolio projections?" Lennox said, laughing. "I thought he was going to pass out."
"He deserved it. Those numbers were wildly optimistic." Callum was smiling. Actually smiling. "But the toupee incident was worse."
"Oh my god, the toupee." Lennox covered her face. "I was trying so hard not to stare. It was just... it was so crooked. How does nobody tell him?"
"I think everyone's too afraid. He's notoriously sensitive."
"About his hair or lack thereof?"
"Both, apparently."
They were still laughing when they got back to the suite. Stumbled in like teenagers, trying to keep quiet even though there was nobody to disturb. Lennox kicked off her heels immediately, groaning in relief.
"I hate these shoes. They're gorgeous but they hate me back."
"They look painful."
"They are painful. Fashion is pain. Patricia told me that, and she was not kidding." Lennox padded over to the minibar, pulled out another bottle of wine. "Want some? Or are you done?"
"I should be done."
"But?"
"Pour me a glass."
She did. Handed it to him. Their fingers brushed and she felt that spark again. The one that kept showing up at the worst possible times.
They ended up on the couch this time instead of the balcony. Closer quarters. The city lights still visible through the windows but muted, softer.
"This is nice," Lennox said. "Being here. Away from New York and all the... everything."
"Yeah. It is." Callum loosened his tie, undid the top button of his shirt. She tried not to stare at the exposed skin there. Failed. "We should do this more often."
"What, business trips?"
"No. I mean..." He paused. "This. Talking. Not just existing around each other."
Something in her chest tightened. "We talk."
"We exchange information. That's different."
He was right. They did exchange information. Schedules and plans and surface-level things. But this, what they'd been doing the past two nights, this was different. Real conversations about real things.
"You're surprisingly easy to talk to," she said. "When you're not being all CEO and terrifying."
"I'm not terrifying."
"You absolutely are. That first day we met? I was convinced you were going to dissect me with your eyes alone."
"I was nervous."
She laughed. "You? Nervous?"
"Yes, me." He took a drink. "You were this mystery person my lawyers had found. I didn't know what to expect. And then you walked in looking like... like that, and I just..."
"Like what?"
"Beautiful. You looked beautiful. Scared but trying to hide it. Proud. I remember thinking you were going to be a problem."
"A problem?"
"For me. For my self-control." His voice dropped slightly. "I was right."
The air shifted. Got heavier. Warmer.
Lennox set her wine glass down with slightly shaking hands. "Callum..."
"I know. I shouldn't have said that."
"No, it's not..." She looked at him. Really looked at him. "You're a problem for me too."
His eyes darkened. "Lennox."
"I'm just saying. For the record. This whole thing would be a lot easier if you weren't..." She gestured vaguely at all of him. "Like this."
"Like what?"
"You know what."
"Say it."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because." She stood up too fast, suddenly needing distance. "Because if I say it out loud then it becomes real and we can't take it back and this is already complicated enough without..."
She tripped. The stupid wine and her bare feet on the expensive rug. Tripped and stumbled forward and suddenly Callum was there, catching her, hands solid and warm on her waist.
They froze.
His hands on her waist. Her hands on his chest. Faces inches apart.
She could feel his heart pounding under her palm. Could smell his cologne mixed with wine and something that was just him. Could see the exact moment his eyes dropped to her mouth.
"This is a bad idea," she whispered.
"The worst."
"We have rules."
"So many rules."
Neither of them moved away. If anything, his grip tightened slightly. Pulled her closer.
"Callum." His name came out breathless.
"Tell me to stop." His voice was wrecked. Raw. "Lennox, tell me to stop."
She should. She knew she should. This was crossing every line they'd drawn, breaking every rule they'd agreed to. This would change everything.
But she couldn't make herself say it.
"I can't," she whispered, eyes locked on his. "I can't tell you to stop."
Something broke in his expression. The control he always maintained just shattered.
He kissed her.
Not gentle. Not careful. Desperate and hungry like he'd been starving for this. His hand slid into her hair, tilted her head back, and she made a sound she'd never made before. Needy and wanting and completely beyond thought.
She kissed him back just as desperately. Months of tension and denial and proximity combusting all at once. Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, closer, never close enough.
They stumbled backward. Hit the wall. She didn't care. Just kept kissing him like her life depended on it.
His hands moved to her thighs, lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist automatically and god, the feel of him, solid and real and wanting her just as badly.
"Bedroom," she gasped against his mouth.
"Yeah. Yes. Bedroom."
They barely made it. Kept stopping to kiss more, to touch more. Hands urgent and clumsy. She fumbled with his shirt buttons. He found the zipper on her dress, dragged it down slowly, deliberately, his mouth following the path of exposed skin.
They fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and want. She pulled his shirt off completely, ran her hands over his chest, feeling muscles flex under her palms. He groaned, low and rough.
"You have no idea," he said against her neck, "how many times I've thought about this."
"Tell me."
"Every night. Every goddamn night you've been sleeping twenty feet away from me."
She pulled back to look at him. His pupils were blown, lips already swollen from kissing. He looked undone in a way she'd never seen.
"Me too," she admitted. "Every night."
Something fierce and possessive crossed his face. Then he kissed her again and there was no more talking.
Their remaining clothes disappeared in a frenzy of desperate hands and urgent movements. Skin met skin, hot and slick with sweat.
Callum's mouth was everywhere - on her lips, her neck, her collarbone, her breasts. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, flicked it with his tongue until she arched off the bed.
"Callum," she gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders. "Please." He moved lower, kissing a path down her stomach. Paused at the juncture of her thighs. Looked up at her with those intense blue eyes. "Tell me what you want," he said roughly. "You."
"That's not specific enough." She blushed but met his gaze steadily. "I want your mouth on me. I want you to make me come with your tongue." His eyes darkened at her words. Then he was pushing her legs apart and burying his face between them.
His tongue found her center, hot and insistent. Lennox cried out, back arching off the bed as pleasure jolted through her. Callum groaned against her, the vibrations sending shockwaves through her core. He licked and sucked, building a rhythm that had her writhing beneath him. His hands gripped her hips, holding her in place as he devoured her like a starving man.
"Callum," she panted, fingers tangling in his hair. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."
He didn't stop. If anything, he doubled his efforts, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. She felt the tension coiling tighter and tighter in her belly until it snapped. Lennox came with a scream, body convulsing as waves of ecstasy crashed over her. Callum gentled his touch, helping her ride out the aftershocks until she collapsed back onto the bed. But he wasn't done with her yet.
He kissed his way back up her body, pausing to suck on each nipple until they were tight peaks. He settled between her thighs, the hard length of him pressing against her still-sensitive core.
"I need to be inside you," he said hoarsely, resting his forehead against hers." Yes," she breathed, wrapping her legs around his waist. He quickly got a condom and put it on, then pulled Lennox back onto the bed with him. They came together in a tangle of limbs, mouths fused in a desperate kiss. The rest happened quickly - frantic movements, muffled cries, the bed shaking beneath them.
After, they lay tangled in sheets, skin cooling in the air-conditioned room. Lennox's head on his chest, listening to his heart gradually slow to something resembling normal. His hand traced lazy patterns on her bare shoulder, fingers light and absent.
Neither of them spoke. Like talking would break whatever spell had caught them, make them face what they'd just done.
She should probably move. Go back to her side of the suite. Pretend this hadn't happened. That was the smart thing.
But she didn't want to be smart. Not right now.
Callum's arm tightened around her slightly, like he could read her thoughts. Like he knew she was thinking about leaving.
"Stay," he said quietly. Just one word. Rough and low and holding way more than it should.
Lennox closed her eyes, hand spreading over his heart. Feeling it beat steady and strong under her palm.
"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered.
His lips brushed her temple. Once. Twice. Then he pulled her closer, tucked her against him like she belonged there.
Like maybe she'd always belonged there.
And Lennox let herself believe it. Just for tonight. Just for this moment suspended above a sleeping city where nothing was real and everything was possible.
Tomorrow they'd have to face what they'd done. What it meant.
But right now, wrapped in expensive sheets with his heartbeat under her ear and his hand in her hair, she didn't care about tomorrow.
She just stayed.