Fight or Flight

We had exchanged very few words by the time we left Patrice’s party. Seeing my embarrassment at the idea of handing Patrice her room key back after our obvious absence, Caleb told me to wait on the lower deck while he returned it to her and made our excuses.

After a quiet cab ride to my apartment, I stared at the big Scotsman sitting on my small sofa, his suit jacket strewn across the back of it, with a coffee in his hand. I couldn’t believe how much I wanted to crawl all over him again. But there were questions to be asked and answers to be had.

“You want tae know what I’m doing back in Boston?” he said, staring up at me from under his lids in a way that told me he’d rather be rolling around in bed right now too.

Somehow I’d forgotten, in his absence, how intense our sexual connection was. I’d only ever read about this kind of attraction in books and seen it in movies. But here it was. Real. And it had an unhappy side effect of making me confuse lust for something else.

Or did it?

I couldn’t stop staring at him and it wasn’t just because I wanted to wrap my body around his.

I’d missed him.

I’d missed that sardonic smirk, his fierceness, his surprising gentleness, his honesty. He didn’t say a lot, but it made you pay attention when he did, and, moreover, most everything he said made sense. There was a blunt kindness to Caleb that I appreciated and respected. He wasn’t perfect—definitely not. Because there was also a blunt meanness to him too. He could be rude and abrupt and sometimes cuttingly honest. In saying that, I knew this wasn’t infatuation. When you were infatuated with someone, you failed to see their imperfections. When it was more than a fixation, you still cared about them in spite of their flaws. You saw past their flaws.

I saw past Caleb’s faults.

I’d never been around a man who at once made me feel emotionally secure and insecure. I would never have to guess how Caleb felt about me, because he was up front about that, no matter if his feelings disappointed me or, worse, had the ability to hurt me. And I would never have to guess if Caleb listened to me when I spoke, because I knew with one hundred percent certainty that he did listen to me. He didn’t always agree with me, but he always listened.

I liked him. A lot.

Tell him to leave, Ava, I suddenly thought to myself, as goose bumps prickled across the tops of my shoulders, as though my body sensed danger.

Yet I couldn’t open my mouth to tell him to leave, even though somehow, despite what Nick had put me through, I found myself back here again with Caleb. With my heart making too much ground against the battle with my mind.

“You’re staring,” he murmured.

“You’re staring too.”

Caleb’s mouth curved into that smirk I loved and loathed so much and he gave me a little nod of acquiescence. “True.”

Deciding I almost looked combative standing over him, I settled down on the sofa opposite him with my coffee and tucked my feet under me. “So why are you in Boston?”

“They offered me the CFO position in the Boston office.”

I’m sure I didn’t do a very good job of hiding my astonishment, but I hoped like hell I hid the awful rush of hope that swooped through me. “The guy that got fired? They offered you his job?”

“Aye. Almost as soon as I left Boston. They weren’t impressed with the other candidates and I won their trust during my time here.”

Ignoring the delighted butterflies fluttering around my belly and how confusing they were, I was glad that my voice sounded so calm, neutral when I replied, “And you said yes?”

“The North American division is the company’s biggest division, Ava. The CFO position here is a far more complicated job and as such they are offering double the wage I get back in Glasgow. It may sound like the same position, but it’s a promotion. A massive promotion and I couldn’t turn down this opportunity.”

“Your family?” How would a family that had already lost one son feel about another moving so far away?

Caleb lowered his gaze to the floor. “Aye, I’ll miss them. But I’ll be back and forth for work a lot, so I’ll get tae see them. Plus, they all want tae visit. My brother Jamie’s here already. He’s planning tae stay with me awhile, do some new work here.”

Jamie was the social media artist. I’d checked him out online. He shared no pictures of himself, just his work, and it was pretty impressive. I could see why he was so successful. His aesthetic was just different enough to catch the eye, but had a wide commercial appeal. He was a mixed-media artist and he did a lot of semiabstract portraits and landscapes.

I began to wonder if I’d get to meet Caleb’s brother and I immediately threw the thought away because it was hazardous thinking. It was overtaken, however, by an even more perilous thought.

Or feeling, rather.

A prickle of hurt.

“You’ve known you were coming back for weeks?”

A person unfamiliar with Caleb Scott might think he was unaffected by my question or the slight accusatory tone to it, but I was starting to know him. I recognized the abruptly blank expression for what it was.

Irritation.

Still, I couldn’t help but push, knowing he’d be honest, even if I didn’t like what he had to say. “You didn’t tell me because you weren’t sure you wanted to start things back up again?”

He shifted in his seat and drank the rest of his coffee before finally meeting my eyes.

My heart had started to race, wondering when I had become such a masochist, daring a man who could hurt me to be his usual bitingly honest self.

“There wasn’t much time tae tell you. And anyway, I quite liked the idea of surprising you. And as it turned out”—his ice eyes turned smoky with want—“it was a brilliant idea.”

Relief flooded me and I almost hated him a little for having this kind of control over my emotions and body. “It was a nice surprise.”

“That’s not how I would describe it. And I’m guessing from that reunion that you are more than happy tae start this up again.”

The reminder of how I’d acted on the boat, that unleashing of my savage desire, almost made me blush. Instead, I offered him a self-deprecating laugh, feeling a weird mixture of fear and giddiness that I no longer had to miss and long for him. He was right here and he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Quite abruptly Caleb stood up and reached over, taking the mug of coffee out of my hand. I watched him, my eyes lingering on his ass as he strode over to the kitchen. His shirt was hastily tucked back into his suit pants, the aforementioned spectacularly fitting ones showcasing that strong, muscular ass in a way that made my nipples pebble against my bra.

He put the coffee mugs into the sink and casually returned to me. But what he did next was anything but casual. He got on his knees before me and pulled my legs apart, forcing me to open them and sit up. His big hands smoothed over the tops of my thighs, shoving the hem of my dress up as he leaned into me, his gaze on my lips.

“I’ve missed this mouth,” he whispered before capturing said mouth in a kiss that brought tears to my eyes. Tears I valiantly forced back.

It was the best kiss of my life.

It was like he was drinking from me, a deep, slow, mesmerizing kiss that made my heart slam hard against my chest. It was the kind of sweet, sexy, thorough kiss that confused a woman, because it said I meant more to him than just sex.

It said he hadn’t just missed my mouth.

He’d missed me.

My hands caught his stubbled, prickly cheeks to hold him to me, not wanting that kiss to end anytime soon. Between the thorough seduction of his mouth and the way his thumbs caressed the inner skin of my thigh, I could feel my body melting, sweet and pliant and ready for him.

His right hand abandoned my thigh to take hold of my left wrist. I instinctively knew his intention was to put my hand where he wanted to feel it most because he was never shy in telling me what he needed from me, but he froze as his fingers brushed the bracelet on my wrist.

To my disappointment, he broke the delicious kiss to turn his head and look at the object.