No doubt about it¸ Cal was a derrière man, but Monica’s tits were stunners. Her rosy nipples—big and luscious as cherries—made his mouth water.

“Are you going to get dressed?” She nodded at him as she slipped into her shoes.

“I’m pondering. I look so good naked, I should bless the world and walk around like this all the time, don’t you agree?”

She gave him an exasperated look and grabbed the skirt from his hand. “Seriously, you have an ego problem.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

Her words may be chastising, but he could hear the amusement in her voice, though she averted her face to hide any evidence of it. He liked that he could make her laugh. He’d definitely made her smile in that office a few minutes ago.

When she’d knelt down in front of him, right before she’d taken him in her mouth, Monica had given Cal the sauciest grin. Then she’d taken command of his prick, stroking and licking. Hell, he was getting hard all over again.

Telling his cock to behave itself, Cal pulled on his clothes and stuck his feet into the tasseled loafers. He’d asked Mr. Lawson to fetch him some shoes from one of the shops. Cal didn’t care what they looked like; he simply wanted Monica to see him in something other than shoddy boots. Now he felt faintly ridiculous.

He glanced up. Monica had caught him staring. “Tassels are for wankers, aren’t they?” he asked.

“No. You look very nice.” She lowered her eyes, almost as if she were embarrassed to give him a compliment. Then Monica opened her office door and scurried to her desk, where she gathered together all of her work gadgets.

“Hungry?” he asked, propping his shoulder against the door frame.

“Cal, I’m just going to call it a night and go home.” She was running scared—afraid of him. Afraid of herself.

“I understand. Sex with me can be exhausting. You’re most likely done in, poor pet.”

She threw him a warning glance. “I need to work.”

“Of course, and it has nothing to do with that fact that you let down your proverbial hair? You’ve had your fun, and now it’s time for self-flagellation.”

She kept her eyes down as she shoved folders into her bag. “I have board meeting drama, and the gala’s six weeks away.”

“So naturally, you won’t eat until then.”

Heaving a sigh, she finally looked at him. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Occasionally. But only when I’m sleeping or eating pussy.” He smiled at her gasp, whipped out his phone, and put a call in to Mr. Lawson. “We’ll be arriving in half an hour. Have dinner waiting on the terrace, will you?” When he hung up, Monica looked at him with raised brows. As she hefted the bag onto her shoulder, Cal walked forward and took it from her. “I told you I made plans. Dinner will be waiting for us. You’ll love it.”

She left her office and walked next to him through the short hallway. “You really think you’ve got me figured out, don’t you?” At the suite door, she flipped off the lights, leaving them momentarily in the dark.

“Not completely, but I’m learning as I go. By the way, just to give you fair warning, I plan on fucking you again tonight. But I’ll taste you first.” Then he opened the outer office door and allowed Monica to pass through.

“Just to give you fair warning, I’m going home after dinner,” she said, locking up with a snap of her wrist.

Cal said nothing as he trailed her to the lift. He didn’t look at her either, but kept his eyes trained on the arrows above the doors.

“And what’s a taste, anyway?” she asked. “A taste sounds very brief.”

“Would you like me to explain in further detail?”

“No.”

He waited.

“Maybe.”

The doors opened, and they climbed on. Monica pressed the L button and clutched her purse in front of her. Cal’s eyes kept straying to her, taking in her mussed hair, her swollen lips.

“Yes,” she said. “Explain.”

“In this scenario, we’ll both be naked, of course.”

“You seem to prefer it, being God’s gift and all.”

“Quite. I’ll use my hand first, to make sure you’re wet. Once you’re ready, I’ll slide one finger inside you. I’ll work up to three, but it’s a process. Then I’ll lick your outer pussy lips. You’ll be begging me by then, but I won’t let you come, not yet. Not until I’ve parted you and licked you like a ripe peach. Eventually, I’ll nibble your adorable little love button until you go wild. That’s my idea of tasting. You probably thought I meant sampling.”

Monica’s cheeks were pink now, her eyes bright. Her chest rose and fell at a rapid rate. “Love button?” she said, sounding out of breath.

“Would you prefer joy buzzer?” He grinned as she rolled her eyes. He nearly groaned when she licked her upper lip. Though she would probably deny it, she enjoyed their banter as much as he did.

The bell dinged, and the doors slid open. They walked in silence to the parking lot. “I’ll follow you in my car,” she said.

“Oh, what a shame. I was going to let you drive the Mustang again.”

She hesitated. “Give me the keys.”

Cal pulled them from his pocket and dropped them into her hand. He still wasn’t comfortable letting someone else take the wheel, but tempting Monica was worth it.

She climbed in the car and started the engine. “Just out of curiosity”—she gazed at him from the corner of her eye—“what’s your idea of sampling?”

* * *

As Monica parked in front of Cal’s place, a valet appeared out of nowhere. The service here was impressive. She’d always wanted a peek inside one of the villas, and she’d probably never have another chance.

Cal placed his hand on her lower back, guiding her up the walk. “I worked up an appetite, how about you?”

“Dinner,” Monica said. “That’s all I’m agreeing to.” For now. She just wanted to state it for the record, but her delivery was weak. Even Monica wasn’t buying her flimsy denials. She and Cal would be having sex again before the night was over. After hearing his ideas on tasting versus sampling, she couldn’t think about anything else.

“If you say so.” His agreeable tone said he wasn’t taking her seriously either. She hadn’t really given him a reason to. Every time they were together, she meant to say no, but her legs fell open instead.

Cal unlocked the door and nudged her inside. Monica walked past the threshold and stood in the foyer, taking in the detailed pattern on the tiled floor, the marbled walls, the modern crystal chandelier that looked like dandelion seeds. “This is gorgeous.”

“It’s not on par with Trevor’s place, but it’ll do in a pinch, eh?” He grinned down at her.

“If one doesn’t mind slumming,” she joked. Monica fought against reaching up and touching the left corner of his mouth. That crooked smile got her.

Cal relieved her of her purse and bag, setting them next to the front door. Then he took her hand. “Come on. Food’s outside.” He sped through the living room, tugging her behind him.

“Wait.” Monica dragged her feet. Her quick glance around the living room gave her an overall impression of warm walls and sumptuous furniture—a mixture of old-world dark wood and modern design. “I want to see it all.”

“Later. I’ll show you everything, I promise.” He pulled her to the French doors.

“Do you always keep your promises, Calum Hughes?”

He stopped then and looked over his shoulder. She’d only been joking, but his eyes were somber. “Yes. Always. Don’t you?”

Monica hadn’t kept the promise she’d made to herself, the one about steering clear of good-time guys with sex on the brain. And she hadn’t kept the promise to her mom, either. Monica didn’t plan on following her heart anytime soon. “No, I don’t always keep my promises.”

Cal studied her for a long moment. When he smiled, the left side of his mouth stayed on an even keel with the right. “What a pity. Now, come along.”

Cal led her outside and onto the terrace. This wasn’t Trevor’s winding English garden, but it was beautiful. Hanging flowers and topiary bushes dotted the perimeter of the pool, where tendrils of steam rose into the night sky. Lit from within, the bright blue water cast shimmers that danced along the tan French pavers at her feet. Outdoor heaters flanked either side of the candlelit table set for two, and a buffet cart stood to one side.