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I wanted to stay with him for as long as he’d let me, no matter what I had to do—
“Oh.” I blinked. “You don’t want me to stay with him and do sex stuff he likes just because it means having a place to stay.”
“Exactly, which is why you’re going to move in with me.”
I blinked. “But—”
“No buts,” he said, sounding a lot like his uncle as he held up a hand to stop me from arguing. “While Cal is out of town, we’ll get you moved into my spare room and find you a job that has nothing to do with him, plus make sure you’ve got your safewords picked out and know how to use them.”
All that in just a few days? He really was a whirlwind.
I took a drink of frozen caffeinated chocolatey goodness, feeling a little overwhelmed. “So, I can’t house sit anymore?”
Jackie grinned again. “You can totally house sit, but you’ll be doing it as a favor, not a job. And when he gets back, if you want to stay and do more than house sit—” he waggled his eyebrows, making me blush again, “—you totally can, but if you ever don’t want to stay, you’ll have somewhere to go that you won’t have to rely on him for.”
“So, I’ll be relying on you, instead?”
“No,” he said, turning serious. “We’ll draw up a lease. We’ll make sure you’re taken care of. I told him I’d sort everything out, and I will. I’ll clear the path for consent, and then whatever you two both decide you want, you should go for.”
A tingling shiver went through me, making me squirm again. I still wasn’t sure I understood what Jackie was making such a fuss about when all I wanted to do was say yes to anything Callum wanted me for, but the whole idea that this was really happening, or at least, really might be happening, was so exciting I could hardly sit still.
And maybe I did understand a little bit, because not having any options at all or any clue how to take care of myself after I’d left Mom’s boyfriend’s place had been kind of horrible, and even though I’d said no to plenty of guys during the days I was living on the streets, I knew… I knew that if Callum hadn’t found me, I might eventually have said yes, even though I didn’t really want to. And Jackie was trying to protect me from ever feeling that way again.
“Okay,” I said, feeling a little choked up that he would be so nice, even if he was mostly doing it because he wanted his uncle to be happy. And if I could really be the one who made Callum happy—
“You really think he wants me like that?” I asked a little breathlessly.
The evil grin came back out. “Oh honey, I really think he does.” But then he dropped the smile and leaned in. “But listen, you seem a little… inexperienced, so if you’ve got questions, are aren’t sure—”
“I’m sure,” I cut in quickly, straightening up. “I mean, you’re right. I’m… I’m inexperienced, but I know what I want. I’ve known forever. And I know how Callum makes me feel. I just never thought I could actually have all that.”
“All what?” Jackie asked, his smirk back. “A hot older guy who will want to hold you down and fuck you in those little panties, then tell you how good you are for Daddy when you come on his cock?”
My eyes went wide, my breath hitching in my throat and my dick suddenly so hard it actually hurt a little. How did Jackie know?
He laughed, even though I hadn’t said anything. “See? You’re perfect for him. Now let’s go handle all the boring details so you can rock my uncle’s world when he gets back from his trip.”
He grabbed all our stuff and swept out of the cafe, and I scrambled up to follow him.
But not before I pinched myself, just one more time, to make sure this wasn’t all a dream after all.
Chapter 7
Callum
* * *
“Is there a problem with your meal, Mr. Moore?”
I unclenched my jaw, trying and most likely failing to smooth out the frown on my face as I set my phone down and looked up at the maître d’.
“No,” I said, my voice terse as I stood. “Please charge it to my room.”
His eyes flickered down to my plate. “It appears that you haven’t touched your food, sir. If it’s not to your liking—”
“It’s fine,” I said, managing a tight smile. I gave him an abrupt nod, then snatched up my phone and headed for the bank of elevators, hitting the call button for my personal assistant back in New York.
“Mr. Moore,” Andrea said, answering on the first ring. “What can I do for—”
