Shayla Black - Theirs to Cherish

“Get back in position and don’t move until I tell you,” he commanded gruffly.

Closing her eyes, Callie gave herself over to Sean. It would be the last time she’d ever experience submission, most likely. Even if she sometimes fought it, she craved it. She intended to savor these precious moments.

Rocking back on her elbows, she spread her legs again for him.

“Scoot closer.”

The entire camera had to be one big close-up of her cooch. But she didn’t argue, just complied. Then she waited.

“Like that, yes.”

Sean remained silent for a long minute, and she could all but feel his eyes on her. In her fantasy, he climbed his way up her body with nips and kisses, then impaled her with that thick cock of his, making her breath rush and her back arch. She pictured Thorpe hovering over her, too, watching, tipping her head over the edge of the bed to feed his erection between her lips and deep in her mouth, muttering in the filthiest, most intimate whisper how much he was looking forward to impaling her backside.

“I don’t see any bruises on you.” Sean’s voice pulled her from her sensual daydream.

Callie eased up a fraction and looked at Sean from between her legs. “There are none, Sir. Thorpe didn’t force me.”

A fact that made her feel even more guilty, but she didn’t try to hide from the truth.

“Sit up and look at me.” He stayed silent until she did as he’d bid. “Leave the robe off. I like you naked.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He sent her a reassuring nod, telling her that she’d pleased him. “Callie, he may not have forced you, but you were upset, and he took advantage of you.”

“Not really.” She bit her lip. “Sean, I have to be honest. I have feelings for him, too. I don’t think it’s one-sided.”

Damn, why couldn’t she just keep her mouth shut? Or break up with him and be done?

Sean’s face closed up. “He had four years to give you what you needed. And he did nothing. He’s not the man for you. I am. Don’t let your gratitude lead your heart in the wrong direction.”

It wasn’t like that at all. Yes, she was grateful to Thorpe for many things, but she would have fallen for him regardless. Some invisible string tethered her to him, tugging her in his direction . . . even as another string seemed to bind and yank her toward Sean, too.

It was best that she was leaving. She could never choose between them. And if she tried, she would inevitably lose the other for good.

“I understand what you’re saying,” she answered obliquely. After tomorrow, it wouldn’t matter.

“Good. I’m going to do my best to reason with Thorpe so I can see you. We have a lot to talk about, lovely.”

He was dead wrong. It was all but over, even if that fact was breaking her heart in a million pieces. If she told him that now, it would only start an argument that neither of them would win. Next time she saw him would simply be good-bye.

“I’ll see what I can do on my end, too.”

“Excellent,” he praised. “Now charge your phone.”

“I already am.” She smiled. Sometimes he knew her too well.

Sean sent her an approving nod, his blue eyes caressing her face through the screen. “Eat your pizza and get some sleep. I plan to come for you tomorrow.”

And by then, she’d be ready to release him and go. “I will.”

* * *

THORPE was slumped over his desk at quarter ’til three when his phone rang. The club members were gone. Axel had swept the place clean. No sign of Kirkpatrick, but Thorpe knew better than to assume he’d seen the last of the asshole. Callie had helped with cleaning and closing, then taken herself off to bed. She was too quiet and hadn’t met his gaze when he’d given her back the contents of her suitcases, sans bags.

He planned to keep a very close watch on her. Lack of luggage alone wouldn’t be enough to keep her here if she was determined to go.

At the first shrill chime, Thorpe started, then all but pounced on the phone. He looked at the display, smiling at the familiar number.

“Tara?”

“Yes.”

“That was fast.” The smart girl had always impressed him, but even more so tonight. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’ve got some information for you. It’s only preliminary, but . . . I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

Thorpe’s gut tightened. He’d wanted to be wrong. Son of a bitch. “I didn’t expect to. Tell me.”

“Sean Kirkpatrick’s story survives a cursory glance, like you said. But once I started digging, it seems that he doesn’t appear anywhere, at least under that name, until eight months ago. I also can’t find a record of anyone with that name and face becoming a U.S. citizen in the last decade. The first appearance of him I have is the supposed creation of an LLC in the state of Florida earlier this year.”

“He told Callie that he lives there now. He claims to belong to a club outside of Miami. His references checked out, but . . .”

“It’s possible he paid someone for that.”

“Exactly,” Thorpe agreed.

“Almost immediately after he started the company, a major Fortune 100 corporation supposedly hired his services. Do you know how tough a gig that is to get?”

“Exceedingly. You usually have to know someone.”

“Or be sucking their di— um, be intimate with them.”

Thorpe managed a smile at her slipup, despite the grim situation.

Tara smoothed over the moment by continuing on. “He rented a corporate apartment in Dallas under the name of his LLC back in April.” She rattled off the address, and he jotted it down. A newer part of town with lots of corporate presence and no nightlife. “He signed a six-month lease. When October rolled around, he started extending it month by month. Other than that, Sean Kirkpatrick has one relatively new credit card, no bank account, no immigration visa, no mortgage, no car loan, no record of marriages or divorces, no court dates, no arrest record, no school records . . . nothing. He’s a ghost.”

Sitting back in his chair, Thorpe sucked in a breath. “The way he set up his identity, do you think he’s a con artist?”

“What does Callie have that he’d want to steal?”

“Absolutely nothing.” On the surface. But over the last decade, the bounty on Callie’s head had grown to two million dollars. What if Sean Kirkpatrick had somehow pieced together her identity and managed to trail her here?

Thorpe’s blood ran cold. He swore that he’d take care of Kirkpatrick once and for all.

“I was afraid you were going to say that.” Tara sighed. “Seven months seems awfully patient for a stalker, but at this point, I’m not sure if I’d rule that out. I honestly don’t know what else to think.”

“I’ve got some ideas. If you come across anything else, let me know, would you?”

“Of course. Something is definitely off with this man.”

As Thorpe had suspected for some time. “I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“My pleasure. You know Callie isn’t ever going to be my best friend . . . but I’m worried for her.”

He gripped the phone tightly. “Me, too.”

They rang off, and Thorpe didn’t waste a minute. He left his office and crept down the hall to Callie’s room, letting himself in with the key. He spied her sleeping in the moonlight, all curled up in a sea of downy quilts and soft pillows. One naked leg peeked out, from her supple hip to her little pink toes. No way he could forget having his face between her sleek thighs, but somehow he had to.

Thorpe turned and found a partially eaten pizza sitting in a box on her dresser. When the hell had she ordered that? No idea, but nothing else looked out of place. Her phone sat charging on the nightstand, and he swiped it, then dashed back into his office.

It didn’t take him long to figure out that her password was his birthday. And didn’t that just add a kicker of guilt to this torment cocktail? He browsed her recent calls and found one she’d missed from Sean earlier tonight. Gotcha!

He touched the screen, and the image changed to Sean’s annoying mug as the call connected.

“Callie?” the man didn’t sound groggy or disoriented in the least.

“Not quite. Guess again.”

“What the fuck do you want, Thorpe? I’ve had it up to my eyeballs with your antics. You can’t separate me from Callie. You’ve no right, and you know it.”

Oh, he had every right, and he intended to exercise each of them to the fullest extent. He might not be her father, her husband, or her Dom, but he was her protector. And probably the only person in her life she could trust without question.

But Sean’s grating lecture gave him an idea. “I’ve been doing some thinking. I know that I’ve overstepped my bounds as the owner of the club. So I’m going to allow you to see her tomorrow. Here at Dominion. Nine p.m. You’re not going to get another offer. I suggest you take it.”

“I’ll be there. And don’t you be trying any trickery. You won’t like what happens.”

“Is that a threat?” Thorpe all but licked his lips, hoping the Scot would give him something he could sink his teeth into.

“No. But if you’re less than straight and narrow, I don’t think Callie will be too happy with you. And you can’t stand the thought that she might not look to you for all her needs, can you?”

Thorpe squeezed the phone tightly. Fucker. “Be here at nine.”

Without allowing Sean to respond, he ended the call. That Scot got under his skin, and he had to resist the urge to throw Callie’s phone across the room. Instead, he forced out a deep breath, then stood, walking with deliberate steps back to her room and put the phone where he’d found it.

He shouldn’t look at the girl, but she’d rolled over in her sleep and now lay on her back, her ridiculously long lashes caressing her cheeks, her head angled slightly to expose the graceful line of her throat. Pale shoulders moved softly with each breath. The quilt barely covered her breasts, and the hint of cleavage was enough to make him sweat.

Damn it, he had to get out of here. He had to stop obsessing. Keep her safe. Give her a place to live her life in peace. That was the most he could ever offer her.

The moment he closed her door behind him again and locked it once more, he charged down the hall to see if Axel had left yet. A quick turn of the knob to the security room, and Thorpe slid inside. Axel wore a baseball cap. The man was a large, blunt instrument of violence when he chose. Currently, his eyes were glued to a security feed. His fists were clenched.

“What is it?”

“Callie got a pizza tonight.”

“I saw the box in her room.”

“She didn’t pay for it.”

Thorpe frowned. “And Callie doesn’t have any credit cards to have paid for it in advance.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s Kirkpatrick.” Thorpe cursed. God, would this fucker just not go away?

“Can’t imagine who else it would be.”

“I’ve got a plan. How do you feel about searching his apartment at, say, nine tomorrow night?”

“For what?”

“Anything. Everything. He’s up to no good where Callie is concerned. I want to know what.”

Axel’s massive shoulders slumped. “You’re not going to let me trash his pad, are you?”

“Not yet, but depending on what you find, you and I together may be trashing his face.”

“Now you’re talking.” Axel smiled wide.

“Is that a yes, then?”

Axel’s expression brightened again. “I can’t wait.”

Thorpe felt the same. One way or another, by tomorrow night, he’d have figured out exactly who Sean Kirkpatrick was and how to permanently erase him from Callie’s life. He didn’t care much how he had to do it.

THORPE did his best to act like he didn’t want to murder Sean Kirkpatrick—or whatever his name truly was—when the imposter walked into Dominion. The man shoved something in the pocket of his trousers and adjusted his stark white dress shirt. Decent suit and loafers, but not designer. His watch wasn’t Gucci . . . but it wasn’t Timex, either. Which reinforced Thorpe’s opinion that this man wasn’t after Callie’s money because he knew she didn’t have any.

He hoped like hell the address Tara had dug up was real and that Axel worked quickly. Thorpe needed to eliminate the man, then find the strength to take a step back from Callie so her life could resume its status quo.

Sean caught sight of him in the foyer, standing beside Sweet Pea’s empty desk. He’d sent his little receptionist on a meaningless errand because didn’t want her anywhere near potential danger.