And imagining what I’ll find when I get there.
I stride into the master bath. Steam floats around me, and through the etched glass I see the blur of Callie’s slick body.
She’s standing under one of the two showerheads, her head tilted, her long hair plastered down her back.
I pull the door open.
God, she’s better than my imagination.
The burst of cool air from the open door startles her, and she opens her eyes.
“Starting without me, I see.”
She instinctively covers her breasts.
“Feeling shy?” I ask.
She moves her arms. “No.”
I walk into the shower, hard as a rock but determined I won’t take her here.
Determined…but weakening by the second.
“Beautiful.” I reach forward to cup a breast. “Perfect.”
Her nipple hardens at my touch, even in the hot shower.
If possible, my dick gets even harder.
“I made myself a promise,” I say.
“What’s that?”
“I won’t fuck you in here. The next time will be slow, and you’ll have an orgasm. Maybe two or three.”
She smiles. “I’m not a multiple orgasm kind of girl.”
“Oh?” I lift my eyebrows. “We’ll see about that.”
“Give it your best shot,” she teases.
“I intend to.” I pull her into my arms.
No. No, no, no. Not going to fuck her in the shower.
Except I am going to fuck her in the shower.
I may not be able to go more than three times, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take care of her.
I walk her backward until she’s against the slick wall, the showerhead pummeling us with hot water.
She likes her showers scalding hot.
Nice. So do I.
A second later, I’m inside her, thrusting…
“My God, Callie. What is it about you?”
Again I dive upward into her heat. Nothing like this. Nothing. Ever. Ever again. Already my balls are scrunching, and the contractions start deep within me and pour outward from my cock into Callie’s hot body.
“Coming,” I grit out. “Coming again, Callie. Fuck.”
I plunge into her, balls deep, and relish the pure satisfaction. The pure pleasure. The pure euphoria.
Three times. Three fucks. Four altogether.
And I’m a damned horny schoolboy.
I pant against her sleek shoulder, spent once again.
I haven’t washed my hair, haven’t cleaned any part of my body.
Callie stays locked against the wall, limp in my arms.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“For what?”
“I did it again. I promised I wouldn’t. Fuck, Callie. I don’t have an ounce of control with you.”
“Who asked you to have control?”
“Damn!” I move backward so I can look into those beautiful eyes. “I did. I want to do better for you.”
She smiles slightly. “I kind of like you the way you are.”
“But I haven’t—”
She touches her fingers to my lips. Damn. Sparks shoot through me, just from that tiny caress.
“You will. I kind of like that you don’t have more control.”
“Why?”
“Because it means I’m different. Different than your other…conquests.”
I shove my wet hair off my forehead. “God, you have no idea.”
“Why do you think that is?” she asks.
I open my mouth, but I don’t have an answer.
I don’t have an answer because I’m afraid of what the truth might be.
I might be falling for her, and that makes no sense. Donovan Steel doesn’t fall for women. He enjoys women. He makes love to women. He wines and dines women. He gives women what they deserve. What they want.
But he doesn’t fall for them.
Not ever.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Callie
Orgasms don’t mean that much to me. I don’t care that I haven’t had one yet with Donny. I’m not one of those women who can come and come and come. One of my friends from college, Deb Johnson, was like that. She used to tell tales of how she could keep coming once she cracked.
Not me.
Not ever.
I’m a one-and-done girl, and I’m okay with that.
Because my one is usually pretty darned amazing.
As attracted as I am to Donny, and as experienced as he is at giving women pleasure—and I don’t for a minute doubt that experience—no way will I have more than one orgasm with him.
Just isn’t going to happen. I’m not wired that way.
It hasn’t escaped my notice that Donny didn’t answer my question.
Why does he have so little control with me?
I already know the answer on my end. Why I let him fuck me hard and fast. Because I don’t have any control either. I want him inside me, capturing me, taking me.
I could say it’s just chemistry. Pure physical attraction.
That’s probably what it is for him.
For me, it’s more. More that I don’t want—more that I never wanted—at least not until I’m older and established in my career.
I love sex as much as the next person. I even like dating if the man and I have things in common and enjoy each other’s company.
But a serious relationship? A long-term relationship?
I never met anyone I wanted to consider a future with.
Until now.
But I know Donny Steel. He doesn’t get serious, and he’s not going to change for Caroline Pike—not when he could have changed for some city beauty in Denver and didn’t.