Read episode 7 here: http://bit.ly/compulsionsserial
No one wanted to be in that situation. It would leave me utterly vulnerable; and him with the power to walk away whenever he wanted.
Calum moved around in the kitchen, opening a drawer. I didn’t turn to seek him out. He’d fucked my brains out with his mouth; he planned on doing more to me as soon as we both rested for a bit.
We’d both needed a small break.
If I caught sight of all those naked, delicious muscles moving around the kitchen, I’d say fuck the break, yes to the sex, and fling myself at him.
Smiling, I crossed my arms and padded over to one of the metal bookcases against the left wall of the living room.
I’d been to his house quite a few times during the last few months, but we’d either been too busy fucking, or he’d kept me hostage on the couch, cuddling and watching TV. No chance to look around and analyze his home some more.
I wanted to. Bad. The curiosity gnawed at me sometimes.
What better way to get to know a man’s mind than by what he read?
Delighted at the chance to get some 4-1-1 on him, I looked up and began reading through the spines.
His phone started ringing from inside his jeans. Absorbed in my task, I barely registered when Calum walked out of the kitchen to search for his cell.
“Have to take this. Be right back.”
The sound of his voice surprised me. By the time I turned around, he was already walking down the hall toward his room. I bit my lip, watching his ass flex and bounce with each step, my eyes locked on him until he stepped into his room.
How odd. He usually always answered his phone around me.
Probably business related. He once told me a family or business emergency would be the only thing to tear him away from me, especially when he had me naked.
Remembering that brought a huge, cheesy smile to my face. When he said things like that to me, I came close to throwing all caution and paranoia right out the window.
Or at least attempting to.
The smile remained on my face when I turned to continue my perusal of his books.
The corner of an intricate, silver frame caught my eye. Tilting my head, I reached to move the large African carving that hid the frame from view—
The carving fell out of my hands, landing on the carpet with a thud.
My heart dropped right behind it.
Blood roaring in my ears, I stood there, trying to convince myself that my eyes were wrong.
It wasn’t just one frame. There were two. And they’d both been tucked behind the carving, hidden in the corner of the bookcase.
From within the smaller of the two, a gorgeous black haired woman smiled back at me, her hand resting on her collarbone—her left hand and the huge diamond adorning the ring finger.
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