Page 23 of Any Means Necessary

“Wanting to fuck you has nothing to do with whether or not I like you.”

“True.” Heat pools between my legs. “You want to fuck me?”

“I want to bury myself in those gorgeous tits of yours while I pound into your pussy until I’m balls deep and you’re screaming my name.” He’s inching closer. “Yes, I want to fuck you.”

Suddenly there’s no air in the room. His dirty words have stolen the breath right out of my lungs and doused me in flammable lust.

The man is so unbelievably hot. Callum Russo could eat me alive and I’d offer him seconds. But he’s officially my employer now—not to mention he’s only supposed to be in town for a few more days. So instead of responding how my throbbing pussy is begging me to, I say “Sex would probably complicate things.”

The hunger in his eyes remains, but he doesn’t make any attempt to argue with me.

“Probably.”

So that settles it, there will be no sex with my extremely attractive, giant, bearded employer who’s covered in tattoos and looks like he could shatter me into a million pieces.

It’s the right decision, we both know it. But that doesn’t stop the regret from clawing at me while I stand here staring at the man with promises of complete devastation in his hazel eyes.

“I should go shower before the chlorine turns my hair green.” Changing the subject, I wrap the large towel around my body. It’s cold now, my lack of body heat allowing the dampness to cool from the air conditioning. Callum doesn’t miss the goose bumps that raise across my skin, even when he tilts his head towards his bathroom.

“Use mine,” he says, surprising me. “I’m leaving, and I’ll be taking the male eyes in the living room with me. There’s a robe on the hook.”

“I’ll think about it.” We both know I’m about to go poking around his bathroom. “Have fun at your meeting.” The look he flashes me says he noticed my choice of words. I give him a bright smile in return.

The towel slips around me slightly when I reach up to tuck a strand of wet hair behind my ear, allowing Callum’s diligent eyes to catch another glimpse of my chest. I’m not in a hurry to pull it back up and ruin his view.

“We’ll talk tomorrow morning,” he says, running a hand over his perfect beard—he has some seriously good hair genes. “Meet me in my office at eight.”

I nod in acknowledgment. “I’ll be there.”

Callum stands there for a beat, gazing at me like usual. Only, now that I know how he feels when he looks at me, it’s not like usual. It’s hot and unnerving at the same time.

When he turns to stride out of the room, I’m left trying to make sense of what just happened between us. There’s so much to process, especially from the last few days. My mind is still scrambling when I walk into Callum’s bathroom.

It matches his bedroom; large, modern, and luxurious. And freakishly neat. There’s no shortage of hygiene products between his facewash, beard oil, and masculine soap—which is no surprise. Callum is a very well-groomed man. Each item is lined up perfectly in place, keeping the counters clean and organized. The entire room is an odd combination of lived-in and pristine. It looks like a well-staged photo from a luxury interior design magazine.

To give some semblance of privacy, I don’t rifle through his cabinets. Turning on the rain shower, I wrestle myself out of the damp swimsuit. When I step under the steaming water and look out the floor-to-ceiling window with the spectacular cityscape view, I’m sure this is going to be the best shower of my life.

Chapter Seven: Lexie

Sitting in the back seat with Callum while Roscoe drives us through the city is a foreign feeling. In my mind, only celebrities and ‘important people’ get driven around by a bodyguard chauffeur. Apparently, Callum is one of those important people, and I now have certain privileges simply by proximity.

The luxury black SUV was definitely custom-made for Callum’s large frame, with extra wide seats and more legroom than I thought was possible in the backseat of a car. The limo tint on the windows offers as much privacy as possible, and I have a sneaking suspicion that the vehicle is armored.

Callum’s focused on his phone, probably typing three emails at once. We went over the expectations of the job earlier this morning, which basically boils down to three things—be available, be reachable, and follow instructions. Simple enough. He didn’t exactly sync our calendars, and I get the feeling I’ll never actually know what Callum is up to until we’re already on the way. I’ll just have to be ready for plans to change.

Leaning back against the cognac suede seat, a notification sounds in the car as a vibration buzzes over my skin. Callum looks over in time to see me reach into the v-neck of my scrub top and pull out my cellphone. A text notification from Mia lights my screen.

“Did you just pull that out from…?” Callum’s deep voice sounds beside me.

“My bra? Yeah.” I shrug, unlocking my phone. Feeling his eyes on me, I turn my head to meet his gaze. Hazel eyes glance down at my breasts without discretion.

“You keep your phone in your bra?”

“All the time.” It’s really no big deal. “It’s like having two giant built-in pockets and women’s clothes never have them so, why not?” His eyes on me are processing data. Or maybe he’s just taking this opportunity to check out my tits.

“People don’t notice you reaching into your top all the time?” he asks, unconvinced.

“You couldn’t tell it was there. Mission accomplished.”

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