Page 45

Love Doesn’t Exist

ANICA

I woke up in a billionaire’s bed with sex hair and a full-body ache that suggested I’d been thoroughly railed.

Multiple times. Callan had slung his arm possessively across my waist, his morning erection pressing insistently against my thigh.

I shifted, weighing my options: sneak out before he woke, or stay and face the exquisitely awkward morning-after conversation.

Callan cut my deliberation short when he tightened his grip, his lips finding the sensitive spot just behind my ear.

“I can hear you overthinking from here,” he murmured, his voice morning-rough in a way that had my ovaries doing backflips. “Your brain makes this little whirring sound when it’s cataloging situations and planning escape routes.”

“It does not,” I protested, even as I tilted my head to give him better access. “And my escape routes are planned weeks in advance, not hastily assembled at...” I glanced at the ridiculously expensive watch on his nightstand, “7:36 in the morning.”

He chuckled, the vibration traveling through my skin and settling somewhere decidedly south of my navel. “So you’re not going to try to slip away from me and pretend last night never happened?”

“First of all, no. Second, also no,” I replied, rolling over to face him. “And third, good morning.”

He looked unfairly spectacular for someone who’d just woken up. His hair was artfully tousled and he had stubble at the perfect length to be both sexy and irritating. The sheet had slipped to his waist, exposing the chest that had made me forget years of professional ethics last night.

“Morning,” he replied, his thumb tracing lazy circles on my hip. “Sleep well?”

“Surprisingly, yes. Though I suspect that has less to do with your thread count and more with being fucked into unconsciousness.”

His eyes darkened at my words, pupils expanding like black holes consuming all that blue. “Happy to be of service,” he drawled. “Though I’d argue it was mutual.”

“Good,” I said, grinning. It was dangerously easy to fall into this rhythm with him. The banter, the casual intimacy, the way his hand slid up my side.

“We should talk about this,” I said, even as my body arched toward his touch like a cat seeking the sun.

“About what?” he asked, feigning innocence as his fingers traced the underside of my breast.

“About the fact that we just spent the night doing things that would make the Professional Wedding Planners Association revoke my membership, if such a thing existed, which thankfully it doesn’t because the annual conferences would be unbearable.”

“Ah, that,” he said, as if just remembering a minor detail. “Yes, we probably should discuss it. Later.” His thumb brushed across my nipple, sending a jolt of electricity straight between my legs.

“Callan,” I said, attempting to sound stern but landing somewhere closer to breathless.

“Anica,” he mimicked my tone, then his expression grew serious. “Look, I know this complicates things. The arrangement, the bet, all of it. But right now, I don’t care. I want you. Not as my wedding planner. Not as part of some business deal. Just you.”

It was one thing to have mindless, admittedly spectacular sex with the man. It was another entirely to start believing there might be something real beneath the billionaire playboy facade.

“And what happens when you do care?” I asked quietly. “When the bet deadline approaches and you need to actually find a bride?”

His hand stilled on my skin, his gaze searching mine. “I don’t know. I just know that right now, the only thing I want is to go another round with the drop dead gorgeous woman lying next to me.”

My heart did a dangerous little flip in my chest. “I’d be down for that, but I need to brush my teeth. And my hair. And I need fuel.”

“Oh no you don’t,” he said, catching me before I could pull away.

I didn’t have time to argue before he started kissing me. His response was immediate and hungry, his hands tangling in my hair as he rolled me beneath him. The weight of him pressed me into the mattress. There was nothing gentle about this kiss.

“I want you,” he growled against my lips, his knee nudging my thighs apart. His erection pressed hard against my hip, already fully aroused.

“Then take me,” I challenged, wrapping my legs around his waist.

His eyes flashed. “Don’t move,” he commanded, reaching across me to yank open the bedside drawer. The muscles in his arm flexed as he grabbed a condom packet, the movement exposing the defined planes of his chest and abdomen.

I watched, transfixed, as he tore the packet open with his teeth and rolled the condom onto his impressive length.

“Ready?” he asked, catching me staring.

“Fuck yes,” I said, reaching for him.

He caught my wrists in one large hand, pinning them above my head. “Not yet,” he murmured, his lips ghosting along my jaw. “I’m in charge.”

In one swift movement, he flipped me onto my stomach, pulling my hips up and back against him. The sudden shift left me breathless, my hands fisting in the sheets as he positioned me exactly how he wanted me. He ran a hand down the curve of my spine. The head of his cock teased at my entrance.

“Fuck, Cal,” I gasped, pushing back against him, seeking friction. The emptiness inside me was almost painful, my body already primed and desperate from his touch.

He made a sound of approval, his hand coming down in a sharp smack against my ass that sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating through me. I yelped in surprise, then moaned as he soothed the spot with gentle circles.

“Too much?” he checked, his hand hovering.

“Not enough.”

He chuckled darkly. “Careful what you wish for, darling.”

Another smack, harder this time, had me burying my face in the pillow to muffle my cry. The sting blossomed into heat that pooled between my legs, my body responding with embarrassing enthusiasm to this new side of Callan.

“You like that. I knew you would. So controlled in your daily life, but here?” His fingers slid between my legs, finding me already slick and swollen. “Here, you want to let go.”

“Don’t psychoanalyze me during sex,” I muttered into the pillow. “It’s—fuck!”

His fingers found my clit at the same time he pushed two fingers inside me, stretching me deliciously.

God, my muscles were sore. I couldn’t find the will to care, though as he circled the sensitive bundle of nerves with his thumb while curling his fingers forward, finding that spot that made my vision blur.

“You were saying?” he asked innocently, continuing his torturous exploration.

I could only respond with a whimper as he worked me with his skilled fingers, my hips rocking back against his hand of their own accord. Just when I thought I might come from his touch alone, he withdrew, leaving me empty and aching.

“Callan,” I protested, looking back over my shoulder to find him stroking himself, his jaw tight.

“So impatient,” he teased, but the strain in his voice betrayed his own desperation. “Tell me what you want, Anica.”

“You,” I breathed. “Inside me. Now.”

He gripped my hips with both hands, positioning himself at my entrance. “Like this?” he asked, pushing in just enough for me to feel the stretch.

“Yes,” I gasped. “All of you.”

With one powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, the sudden fullness making me cry out. He was bigger like this, the angle allowing him to reach places that made my entire body tremble.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers digging into my flesh. “You feel amazing.”

He began to move. Shit, he was huge, and my inner walls were already sore from last night. But damn if he didn’t feel amazing. One of his hands slid up my back to tangle in my hair, tugging just enough to arch my spine and change the angle.

“Oh god,” I cried as he hit that perfect spot inside me. “Right there, don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he growled, increasing his pace.

His free hand snaked around to find my clit again, circling in time with his thrusts.

His grip on my hip was bruising, using it to pull me back onto each thrust. The dual sensations of pain and pleasure blurred until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began, my entire being narrowed to the points where our bodies connected.

“Oh, shit. Fuck, Cal, I’m going to…”

The dual stimulation was too much. I shattered, my inner muscles clamping down around him. I shook, trembling and swearing. He held me steady through it all, his movements never faltering even as my body convulsed around him.

Before I could come down completely, he flipped me onto my back without withdrawing, hooking my legs over his shoulders. The new position drove him impossibly deeper, pulling a strangled cry from my throat.

“I want to see your face when you come this time,” he said, his eyes locked on mine as he resumed his relentless pace. God, was he going faster?

“Fuck,” I closed my eyes and arched my chest up as he pounded into me. “How are you so fucking good at this?” I gasped, my eyes opening just in time to catch that cocky grin slide across his handsome face.

“Told you. Good at many things,” he said, his smirk disappearing as he pulled almost all the way out and slammed back into me.

“Shit!” I held myself with one hand against the headboard. With each thrust, he’d moved me closer to it until I was definitely at risk of smacking my head.

The intensity in his gaze was almost too much to bear, but I couldn’t look away. My body started building towards another peak.

“Callan,” I panted, clawing at his thighs to pull him closer. If there even was such a thing considering he was balls deep inside me.

He obliged to my nonverbal with a single powerful thrust that buried him to the hilt, the sudden fullness pulling a strangled cry from my throat. He kept up his punishing pace that had the headboard slamming against the wall and obscenities falling from my lips in a continuous stream.