Page 108 of Scotch on the Rocks

Juniper

The question hit me like a slap.

“Are you joking?” The distance left me cold, but I stumbled around the coffee table, taking some much-needed space.

“You look like a fucking queen inhisdress. You keephisring on your sideboard like a goddamned trophy, what am I supposed to think, Juniper? I told myself over and over again that it didn’t matter, so long as I got to keep you.” Callum stared at me with an honesty no other man had ever offered, like he’d placed his aching soul on the butcher’s block and handed me the knife. “But itdoesmatter, with you, everything matters. Every emotion is amplified, bigger than they have any right to be.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Before, I thought the torture of wanting you but never having you would be enough to kill me and now, fuck … I haven’t even had you, not really, and you’ve ruined me.” His hand scrubbed across his ruined lip. I wasn’t certain he even felt the pain. “If I’m in your bed, sweetheart, I need to know exactly why I’m there or – or I’m out.”

My brows pinged up, unable to hold back my surprise. “Is that an ultimatum?”

He nodded choppily, as though stunned the words had passed his lips. “Yeah– yes. I guess so.”

I should have told him to screw his ultimatum. Sent him out into the night and carried on with my lonely little life like he hadn’t left an irreparable Community-Ken-shaped hole in it … because I knew, without a doubt, Callum Macabe had the power to ruin me too.

But deep down, I knew I craved the rebuilding that could only come after total destruction.

“You’ve got some fucking balls, Macabe.” I continued my slow journey around the table, enjoying the way he tracked my every move. He’d been honest with me, and he deserved my honesty in return, so I said, “The only reason I wore this dress is because I look phenomenal in it and thanks to you I’ve finally reached a point where I don’t look at it and feel terrible about myself. I didn’t think you’d even recognise it.”

His teeth flashed and I knew he wanted to reach for me. “The way you look in that dress is a particular fantasy of mine.”

Every part of me heated, from my fingers to my breasts and down to my toes, but I forged on. “I danced with Alistair tonight to hear him out. So I could put the past behind me and startuson a clean slate. He apologised and I accepted – though it’s probably null and void at this point – so long as he agreed to take the ring back.” I blew out a breath, steeling myself for the next omission. “You weren’t exactly wrong when you said I kept it like a trophy, just not for the reasons you think.”

“Tell me,” he urged softly. “You can tell me anything, even if it’s something I don’t want to hear.”

“The past few weeks have helped me realise—” I cut off, nervously licking at my lips. “Screw that –youhave helped me realise that I’ve been using it as a kind of physical representation of how unlovable I am.”

If it were possible to see a heart break in someone’s eyes, Callum’s did exactly that. “Sweetheart—”

“Just hear me out, please?” Though it looked like it pained him to do it, he nodded, his taut muscles telling me he was physically holding himself in place. “All this time I’ve been viewing Alistair, even my birth parents, as the villains in my life. Evil masterminds twirling their moustaches while they plotted the most painful methods to wreck me. I can see now that I’ve been giving them too much credit, because the truth is …” The words wobbled past trembling lips. But I had to get this out, needed him to understand all the ways he’d helped me heal. “The truth is … they just didn’t love me enough.”

“Fuck… love.” He met me in two strides. Strong arms gathering me until I felt his pounding heart. I instantly felt stronger. “They didn’t deserve you. Not for a single second—”

“It’s okay.” My hand brushed his chest, luxuriating in the heat of him. “That’s what I’m saying. This isn’t a movie. This is real life, full of fucked-up, messy decisions. Their actions weren’t calculated or malicious, they were just … life.” I swiped at the wet beneath my eyes. “It wasn’t right. But because of that, I found my family … I found you.”

“Nothing will ever stop me from fighting for you,” he promised, the words a whisper on my lips. Then as if he couldn’t hold back a second longer, my back hit the wall. He tilted my chin up, nothing but wonder in his expression. “I love you. Even when it hurt, I loved you.” For just a glimpse I saw the hopeless, desperate man hiding beneath all thatcharm. “I love you so much I’m not sure those words truly mean anything.”

“They mean everything.”

His lips traced my brow. “I’ve had a lot of time to think of alternative ones.”

I started to reply, but he pressed a finger to my lips. “It’s my turn, okay? I’ve been waiting a long time to speak these words to you.” He waited for my nod, that hand sliding around to cup my cheek. “I’ve loved you from the moment I set eyes on you, but it was the night in Glasgow that solidified it for me, when I knew I needed to be more than a placeholder for your revenge.” When I winced, he pecked a kiss to my nose. “I wanted your friendship and your time, as much as you would give me.” He kissed my neck. “I wanted to be familiar with you; your mindandyour body. I wanted to learn the songs you sing in the shower and the shit TV shows you watch when no one’s around.”

His lips brushed mine, there and gone so quickly, I chased them. “Questions of you kept me awake at night. What books were on your bedside table? How did the precise beat of your heart sound? What would the touch of your tongue around my cock feel like?”

It was a travesty I hadn’t tasted him yet.

“I wanted to hear you sigh my name and then scream it. I’ve ticked a few of those off the list, but I’m so fucking selfish when it comes to you, I need more. I want my voice to be your favourite sound in the entire world. I want you to be as addicted to my taste as I am yours. I want to take you on an actual date and watch you go sweet for me, and when we get home, I want you to give me shit and pull my hair, right before you crawl for me. And if you can’t give me that, you can be damn sure I’m desperate enough to accept your friendship … but I’m going to need a minute to get there.”

He finished and the silence hung, thick, tangible and oppressive. His chest labouring like he’d spent years running to this very moment. The words were too perfect, every alarm bell told me not to believe them.

But this was Callum.

So I tilted my head and said, “You want me to crawl?”

His jaw pulsed, like he was worried he’d said too much. “On occasion.”

“And when I’m not on my hands and knees?”

“Then I’ll be the one crawling.”

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