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“Yep. Not that I’m complaining. I did have a wonderful feast.”

What few brain cells I have left see fit to engage. “You’re so fucking twisted for fucking mewhile I was asleep.”

The unabashed jerk shrugs. “Twisted is all you get with me. Good night, love.”

And then, though my pussy’s pulsing, the skin on fire, and I literally begged him for sex, he’s gone.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

LIV

It would be considerably easier to pretend Saturday night didn’t happen if it weren’t for the many, many bruises all over my skin. I look like I’ve been mauled by an army of mosquitoes. And also, the fact that I can barely move without feeling him inside me on Sunday.

In the changing room of the studio, I take a selfie of my neck, arm, and torso in my red ballet leotard and angrily send it to Callum.

Me: How am I supposed to explain this to my teacher??

I have a sheer, black warm-up top that I put on, and don’t remove even when I’m sweating three hours later. A couple of hickeys are on display, and I do get knowing grins, but no one points it out. It’s not like I’m the first to come to class with that type of mark. It’s just the first time for me.

By the time I’m back in the changing room, I have my reply: a picture of Callum Noble on a horse, dressed in a tight polo shirt. I can’t miss the clear three straight lines running through his tanned skin, angrier than any of my bruises.

Yeah…I’m not in a place to complain.

Callum: I told everyone my favorite doll got possessive. Feel free to do the same.

Me: *middle finger emoji

He’s so freakinginfuriating.

Callum: The guys would love to meet you by the way.

I stare at my phone for the longest time.

Me: Meet me like Hawk and Sebastian did? I bet they would.

Callum: Let’s not pretend you didn’t love every moment.

I flush, fully intending to pretend just that, but another message follows the first.

Callum: Dinner tonight?

Me: …?

Callum: It’s that time when people ingest sustenance.

He’s fucking impossible.

Me: The last time you took me out for dinner you had a highly indecent proposition in mind.

Callum: Indecent with a side of twisted. That’s me. The guys and I have a reservation at 6 at the steakhouse on South Main. Feel free to extend the invitation to whoever.

He sounds like he absolutely expects me to come, which in itself should be enough to make me want to not show up…except I’m intrigued.

He wants to have dinner, in a public restaurant, with his friends. It’s… I can’t decide what it is.

Weird, for sure. Inappropriate, given that he was having dinner with his girlfriend and her parents days ago—though he insinuated they had an open thing. Disturbing, in the sense that I should have shot it down right this second. Even if he and Camilla have an open thing, I have no intention of being the other girl in any trio.

But, for all that…I want to go.