I watch her body, the way her fitted burgundy shirt clings to her breasts, the fabric hugging to her curves as it tapers off just below her hips, covering the top of her mid-thigh length black skirt. Everything about her calls to me.

I can’t understand why this woman turns me inside out more than I ever thought possible.

I’ve never followed a girl. Never chased a girl—never had to. In fact, during the last six months, I’ve barely needed to do anything more than raise an eyebrow and book a hotel room. It’s served a purpose, sating my basic physical needs but having to stay in control all the time leaves me exhausted.

But with my reputation, the firm, my family—everything I’ve worked so hard and pushed myself for—I can’t afford to do anything but retain the strong-armed grip I have on my life.

Lucia Harding—her soft, dark hair, crystal green eyes, her killer smile, and her ability to heat my body and challenge my mind in the blink of an eye. She’s a handful in all the right ways and the fact that she’s not chasing me, not contacting me, has me unsettled. It’s left me off balance enough to have me doing something uncharacteristic like park outside her restaurant.

I pull out my phone, determining that the only way to get this woman out of my system and off of my mind is to see her one more time.

Filled with nerves, I type, then delete, retype and delete again, contemplating what to say without giving her false hope of something that I could never allow to happen but seem powerless to stop. After five minutes of deliberation, I type out a short message and push send before I can second-guess myself.

C: Hi.

I look toward the restaurant’s floor-to-ceiling front window, watching her as she makes her way behind the bar and pulls out her phone. She bites her lip, and her brows furrow briefly before she schools her features when a man walks up to her, black apron wrapped around his waist, with the same dark colored hair as Lucia. She talks to him briefly, her spare hand flailing about as they have an obviously animated conversation, ending with her poking her tongue out at him. Shaking his head at her, he turns and walks away, leaving my object of desire to return her attention back to her phone. I take the chance to watch her face. Even from this far away I see every expressive nuance she lets slip. With a wry smile, her fingers stop moving and she puts her phone up onto the wooden bar in front of her before turning her back toward me.

Seconds later, my phone pings with an incoming message.

L: Ah, it’s the great escape artist from Saturday night. With such a hasty departure I wasn’t expecting to hear from you again.

My mind kicks into gear and the words begin to flow.

C: With a night like that, how could you not hear from me again?

L: You left me worn out, and wanting more. It was disappointing to roll over to cold empty sheets where you should’ve been.

C: We could rectify that issue.

L: We could, except I’m working, and I’m contemplating playing hard to get. I didn’t exactly plan on letting you seduce me . . .

C: I didn’t exactly plan on seducing you either. Although, I don’t remember there being any arm twisting or heavy persuasion . . .

L: The look in your eyes and your tongue in my mouth was all the persuasion I needed.

L: As for twisting, I’m sure there are some twists and turns we can maneuver next time ;)

Hell. That has me hard as steel. My cock pressing against my slacks causes me to shift in the driver’s seat. I’m thankful for the invention of tinted windows as I palm myself to try and ease my discomfort.

C: Now my mind is full of possibilities involving twists and turns. Having your legs hooked over my shoulders while I devour you again is top of the list.

She picks up her phone, her eyes widening as she lifts her thumb to her mouth, resting the tip on her bottom lip. She types something quickly then stops, shaking her head at her phone before resuming her message.

The anticipation almost kills me. What is even more concerning is the fact that I’m having an ongoing text conversation with a woman without any pretense. There is no need for anything other than the real Callum.

I like it. A lot.

L: Now I have an hour left at the restaurant, and all I can think of is your mouth between my legs. Let’s just say that I hope you plan to make good on that promise.

My cock throbs in response, the image of Lucia’s naked body laid out on my bed, legs splayed over my shoulders as I bury my tongue deep inside of her, playing on repeat in my mind. Fuck!

I decide that it’s probably safer if I leave her to it. If this text conversation continues while I remain in close proximity to her, there is no saying what could happen. Laying her out on that wooden bar and having my way with her is quickly becoming an enticing prospect. I shake that thought out of my head as I turn the key and restart my car.

One more message. A promise. A threat. Something to leave her wanting more.

C: It’s more than a promise, Lucia. It’s a warning. Something for you to prepare yourself for. I will have you naked again. I will have you screaming my name again. And I will have the pleasure in stripping you of that tantalizing red shirt you’re wearing one day soon . . .

I watch with amusement as she reads the message and her head snaps up, her eyes scanning outside the restaurant when she realizes that I have seen her, or can still see her now. A sly smile caresses her lips.

L: Until next time my friendly neighborhood stalker.

C: Dinner, my house, Friday night. Come prepared.

L: I’m ready and willing now but for you, Mr. Alexander, I have a feeling the wait and anticipation will be more than worth it. Good night, Callum.

Putting my phone back in its cradle on the dashboard, I pull out of my parking spot, driving away from the restaurant before the tentative grip on my self-control wanes.

I drive my car into my garage and switch the motor off. My cock still demands release, thoughts of what I could be doing to Lucia right now plaguing me.

Lucia represents my biggest hope and my worst fear, all contained in a gorgeous, intelligent, smart-mouthed package whose enticement grows stronger and more irresistible with every new interaction.

Once inside, I drop my keys and wallet on the kitchen counter and pour myself a drink. Within minutes I’m seated on my balcony, Glenlivet in one hand and cell phone in the other, the view of the bay spread out before me.

This is my safe place—the place where I can just be myself.

I consider Lucia’s last text. She’s ready and willing. If only she knew what that could mean for her.

Willing to be with me.

Willing to do what?

Ready for what?

I send her a parting text, knowing that if I were ever going to let my guard down for her, it would mean ripping off the carefully manufactured armor I’ve had to construct over the years. My instincts tell me there is something different about Lucia. I need to decipher exactly what it is before I make the decision to let her in.