Page 70 of Callum

“And if it’s Grant bringing back his body, I’m going to flay the skin from your bones before I drop your corpse in the forest for the animals to feast on.”

“Jesus Christ,” Callum’s laugh fills the air as he leans against the front door frame.

“I told you he was alive,” Theo shoots me a knowing grin as he skirts around the couch, stopping before he passes Callum on his way to the front door. The two men talk for several moments, their voices pitched low enough that I can’t hear them from the couch. Eventually, Theo nods, his brows drawn low over serious eyes. Callum goes to slap him on the back but thinks better of it when he catches sight of the blood on his palm.

“Tomorrow,” Callum grunts before closing the door behind Theo. Turning toward the house again, he pauses to look down at his rumpled suit.

For the second time since I stepped foot in this house, I find myself watching Callum MacAlister strip. And fuck me if it isn’t a sight to see. Those shoulders are basically the eighth wonder of the world, and I can’t help but remember how they looked between my spread legs.

My thighs clench when he strips the button-up off his arms before pulling the undershirt over his head. I’m given my first full view of his bare chest, and fuck. He has several new tattoos, all stark black ink against his chest and abdomen. I’m close enough to see them this time, but they don’t make sense in my lust-filled brain. I lose all ability to focus when his hands drop to undo his belt.

“See something you like, kitten?”

My eyes snap to his face. He’s smirking back at me, a mischievous glint lighting his fiery gaze. I’m still getting used to the way he looks at me like he simultaneously couldn’t live without me and wants to kill me with his bare hands.

“Nothing in particular,” I shrug, forcing my gaze away from his bare chest. Callum snorts, letting the pants drop at his feet beside the bloody button-up and undershirt.

“I’m getting in the shower. Don’t get yourself killed before I’m done.”

“What?” I sit up straighter, watching him over the back of the couch. “You’re not going to handcuff me to anything? No overgrown babysitters? What’s going to stop me from walking out the front door?”

Callum stops halfway down the hall, looking at me over his shoulder. I try not to let my eyes dance across his back, ass, and thighs. I really, really try.

“I think we’re past that, don’t you?”

“You’re saying you trust me?”

“Oh, not at all,” Callum laughs, turning to walk toward the bathroom again. “But we both know you’re done running from me.”

He disappears into the bathroom, leaving me alone in the living room.

I could run. I could walk out that front door and never look back. It’s what I wanted, after all. That’s why I came to the MacAlisters in the first place. I wanted out of the Underworld, and I was willing to put the MacAlisters between me and the GiGi’s in order to get it.

Running isn’t an option for me anymore. I’m not sure when it happened, but I know that isn’t what I want. I want to stay. I will face whatever dark and evil parts of my past that I have to in order to stay here. I’ll do anything to stay with Callum.

I can’t live without him anymore.

The shower turns on, water pounding against tiles, and I hear the moment Callum steps beneath the spray.

My feet are moving before I realize I’ve made my decision. The door creaks open, steam instantly clouding my vision. Callum is standing with his back to the showerhead, the water rolling over his shoulders and down his chest.

“In or out, kitten.”

In. Definitely in.

“Don’t get your leg wet.”

“How in the fuck,” I huff, pulling the oversized t-shirt over my head. “Am I supposed to shower without getting my leg wet?”

“We’ll just have to get creative,” a slow smile spreads across his face, and I nearly stop breathing at the sight. I’ve seen him smile so many times, but this one looks different. Something has changed.

He moves toward me, his hands pressing into my hips and sides until I’m flush against him. One hand slides between my legs, and I immediately move to make room for him, but he keeps moving lower.

“What—” My back presses against the shower wall at the same time that his hand hooks around my thigh. With my knee thrown over his elbow, my bandage is held out of the direct spray of the shower. The movement brings our hips flush with one another, and I can’t help the sound I make at the feel of him pressed so tightly against me.

Fuck it.

My lips slam against his, catching him off guard. Callum’s entire body locks up for a moment, and panic floods my brain. Did I misjudge this? Was he not telling me to choose? Does he still not want me?

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