I’m trying to push out the nagging feeling that I can’t blame this on a whim, I’m not caught up in the moment, and I can’t use alcohol to explain it away. I’m heading back to his room because I want to, and now I have to figure out how to deal with that.

His voice invades me seconds before I feel him step up behind me as I’m bent trying to gather up my clothes from his floor. I can feel the solid firm heat nestle up against my ass as his leans over me and drags me up so I’m standing with my back flush against his chest. I’m trembling with anticipation and need laced with nerves, but good Lord, does it make me feel alive. I should move, or at least say something, but his presence is debilitating when I can feel every hard inch of him pressed so tightly against me.

“You wearing my clothes is nearly as hot as you not wearing anything,” he whispers and I’m sure I sink a little deeper into the depth of my desire.

My mouth opens to answer—with what, I’m not even sure—but his lips on my shoulder and then throat steal my breath, and all I can do is moan in appreciation of his skilled mouth. My whole body shudders as his fingers trace a faint line from my thighs up over my hips and above my waist, dragging his shirt with them. He takes his time, pulling it higher and higher while his lips rain delicious wet kisses along the side of my neck. I clamp my hands around the back of his legs, pulling him into me and keeping myself standing. If I let go now I’m not even certain my legs would work. Without a word he twists me in his arms, pulls his shirt roughly over my head and then tackles me to the bed in a rush of probing hands and wandering lips. It feels like a race that I’ve no aspirations to win. I could let him claim victory over my body all day long and still feel like a winner.

His mouth finds my nipples and then it’s all I can do to stay on the bed as his tongue flicks and his teeth graze and my back arches shamelessly, begging for more. My fingers dig into the muscles of his back. It’s an eternity of teasing and moaning before our mouths find one and other and then the rush fades, and our eyes meet as everything slows. Our frantic movements become measured and deliberate; his eyes grow hungrier but his movements stay unhurried. I don’t kiss with my eyes open; there’s something too intimate, too raw and vulnerable about the act, but not in this moment. I couldn’t close my eyes if I wanted to; I’m completely transfixed by the all-pervading gaze Callum has on me. His normally stormy eyes look so clear and undeterred that I don’t want to break our stare.

“Cal, I need you inside of me,” I murmur against his lips and then wait as he kisses me harder before pulling away completely and reaching over to his nightstand. I watch in hungry anticipation as he rips open the little foil square with his teeth, and then he’s rolling the condom on and positioning himself between my legs so fast that it steals my breath when he pushes inside of me in one quick deep thrust.

“You feel amazing,” he whispers as his forehead drops to mine.

He’s not moving, and the ache of eagerness building low in my stomach forces my hips to tilt as I tell him the feeling is mutual. That’s all it takes, one small hip roll, and it’s like I’ve uncaged a beast. His hands trap my own above my head in one swift movement and then he’s delving into me like a man possessed.

“Cal. Oh, my God, Cal!” I scream his name amidst pants and groans and curses. I’d be embarrassed at how loud I was if he weren’t louder.

He grunts, “That’s right baby, take me,” and I’m worked up to a frenzy...my body can’t take any more and I begin to shudder and shatter into a million pieces below him. My orgasm fuels his own as he presses me deep into the mattress and falls apart whispering my name.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

“Yeah,” I reply.

He pulls me with him as he rolls onto his side and places a chaste kiss on the tip of my nose.

“That was…”

“Intense,” I offer.

His head rises from his pillow so he can look down at me.

“I was going to say amazing, but intense works.” He places a light kiss over my lips and then settles back down against his pillow.

“I don’t want to go to sleep in case you’re not here when I wake up,” he mumbles so lightly I barely make out the words. I don’t know what’s happening between us, but I do know that wasn’t just sex. Suddenly everything feels far more complicated, and a weight settles over me that is anything but comfortable.

“I’ll be here,” I breathe, and he pulls me in closer, locking me inside his embrace. I wonder how strong his arms are and how long he can keep me like this until reality breaks through.

The next seventy-two hours play out like a movie of someone else’s life. Callum acts the exact same way with me when we’re downstairs working in the club as he always has. In fact, the show he puts on has me questioning if I made our whole encounter up in my head like some ridiculously vivid dream. I don’t have his composure or capacity to act like nothing is different when everything is different. The moment we head upstairs and it’s just him and me, it’s like a veil is dropped and he’s suddenly not the same person. Callum, without witnesses, can’t take his eyes off me or keep his hands to himself. If I’m sitting down, it’s in his lap. If I’m tired, he pulls me against his chest, and that’s where I fall asleep; and when I wake, it’s in his bed. It’s all too much. Not him, but my guilt.

I’m fielding calls from Cole left, right and center, putting off seeing him until I can work out what it is that I’m actually doing. Callum hasn’t mentioned him, not once. I know that he’s seen me checking my cell and re-directing calls. He knows that I haven’t seen Cole because every spare moment I’ve had in the past three days has been spent with him. I don’t know if I should be grateful that he’s giving me the space to deal with this in my own time, without question, or if that should worry me. What if he’s under the impression that he’s the other man, and he’s okay with that because he doesn’t want any commitments? What we’re doing doesn’t feel like that to me, but I haven’t straight-up asked him about what it is he wants, or where he sees this thing between us going—it’s all getting to be too much.

As if on cue, my cell beeps with a message as I’m getting ready for my shift downstairs.

Are you free later this evening? I have drinks with clients and some people from work, but I want to see you. I can come to you…

The sinking feeling is back full force as I look over the text. Cole is a great guy, he’s open and honest, and ridiculously gorgeous, not to mention fun. I realize that I have actually missed talking to him over the past few days. I didn’t leave his apartment on the best terms and then when I returned home after shooting down his advances, I fell straight into bed with Cal.

I couldn’t dislike myself more than I do right now. I need to fix this.

I’m working tonight, but could come over after. It will be late, is that okay?

I need to talk to him, and I owe it to him to at least do it face to face. My cell beeps almost instantly.

Can’t wait.

My stomach rolls at the prospect of hurting him. I like him a lot, more than I should. He would be the simple, smart, safe choice—I’m not stupid—I know that. I’m a reserved version of myself when I’m with him, and I like that. God knows I could do with being a little more driven by my head than my heart. I let Daniel walk all over me, and I’d vowed not to ever let that happen again. Cole is the polar opposite of him…but maybe that’s part of the problem? Maybe I’m attracted to guys that are rough around the edges, and Cole’s a little too smooth.