Page 82 of Callan

“Who said anything about that?” he retorts, undeterred. “I just want to take you out.”

I search his eyes, not believing an iota of what he’s saying.

He’s taking me out.

Yeah, right.

“Why would you want to do that for me? You just came from your female friend. And I suspect those men––for whatever reason––were looking for you. You are only here with me because you need a place to hide. You weren’t looking for me. You were looking for the girl you’re paying to gather information for you… Information I honestly don’t need to know much about.”

I gesture dismissively, about to roll my eyes, when he clasps my wrist and pulls me closer.

His warm breath rolls over my lips as he tilts his face down, his eyes sending blades of agony into my soul.

His breath smells like honey and mint, making me think of kisses and never-ending hugs.

“The entire time I was upstairs, I was thinking about you,” he says so seriously that the weight embedded in his words turns into a wrecking ball aiming straight at my soul.

If he lets go of my wrist, I might crumble in front of him.

I hold his stare boldly, itching to argue with him and question his words so he can keep talking to prove me wrong.

I love his words more than I care to admit.

And I feed on them in spite of how little I know about him. They ring true to me and appear to be spoken from the heart.

Wrestling with myself, I keep my mouth shut to enjoy the effect of his spoken words on me a little longer.

“Do you believe me?” he asks as if unsure of my reaction, and my confidence soars.

If someone like him can’t be sure of someone like me, the world has turned on its head.

Believing him is admitting defeat and giving in to the idea of him, but I owe him the truth as I’m not a good liar.

“Yes… I think I do.”

A smile flashes across his lips.

“You think you do ?”

He almost laughs at me like he has set me up.

With one shift in my thoughts, I wipe my awe from my face.

“Of course I didn’t believe you. Who would say that to me? Besides, no one would believe you.”

I start to pull away from him when he tightens his grip around my wrist and holds me in place, his smile gone.

“I wasn’t fucking with you, Mackenzie.”

A shiver of fear sweeps down my spine.

I don’t need to look twice at this man to know he’s dangerous, and seeing him grapple with dread makes him even more menacing.

He swiftly realizes the effect he has on me has become unpleasant, so he softens his grip and straightens to leave me some room to breathe.

But I’m instantly drawn back to him.

“Wait,” I say, my hand on his chest, my fingers fanning over it like a blooming flower. “I didn’t want to sound silly or superficial.”

---