But I’m dying to talk to someone about it.

I’m quiet, sitting here, when all I want is to shout it to the rooftops. But saying it aloud will only bring more complications, and I already know that it’s going to end soon. So I only tell the girls that I went to Navy Pier with him recently, which surprises all of them.

“Wow. He invited you?”

“I sort of invited myself.” I laugh, then smirk and sip from my straw.

They’re dead silent. And then they all seem to talk at the same time.

Rachel tells me you really can’t know a guy until you’ve opened up to each other.

Wynn says even then apparently things that have been buried too deep take a while or a trigger to surface.

Gina tells me to listen to my brother, that he wants what’s best for me.

And I just listen and that’s that.

The next week, Callan’s got a thousand things on his plate, it seems. A successful recent acquisition needs restructuring, and Alcore’s fighting back against his takeover.

My eyes are blurry at 9 p.m. I’m on my seventh cup of coffee.

I hear the elevator of my floor ting, and I see Callan step out and we smile.

We’re the only ones in the building.

“You should be home,” he says.

“Not if you’re still working,” I say stubbornly.

We both start for the elevators.

He smiles approvingly. “You have time to track my schedule?” He absently pushes a part of my loose hair back behind my shoulder. “Thought I’d kept you busy enough.”

“You do.”

As he exposes my neck and runs his thumb along the curve of my throat, a shiver runs through me. “Not enough, apparently.” Callan cups the back of my head and turns me to face him. “I must give you something to do with that extra time of yours.”

His eyes are glinting playfully, and I blush and say, tongue in cheek, “Maybe.”

His driver, Lou, pulls the Range Rover around the curve as we exit the building.

Callan and I climb inside. We head along the streets of Chicago, Callan quietly staring out the window, a thoughtful expression on his face.

I reach out and take his hand. He doesn’t seem to notice, so I squeeze it, silently inviting him to share.

“I’m sorry.” He turns, rubbing a hand over his face, squeezing my fingers. “I’m distracted; I’m not on my game.” He looks at me with a pause, then adds gruffly under his breath as he eyes me beneath drawn brows, a warning/playful gleam in his eye, “Taking over companies used to be more fun before you made me question everything.”

I just stare.

I’m falling for him. I want to say, Your whole heart for my whole life.

They say nothing is guaranteed. Except I know I’ll never feel for someone the way I do for him. Not for a moment.

What can I do?

“I can sleep at my place—” I offer.

But he cuts me off with a brusque “No.”

The look in his eyes when we reach his house is absolutely possessive. Sometimes we stop for dinner. Sometimes we order delivery to his home. Sometimes his chef leaves dinner prepped for us.

Tonight he doesn’t seem hungry for anything but me.

Our fingers linked, he leads me to his bedroom.

I want to erase the frustration from his brow and the shadows from his eyes.

“Maybe a part of me feels if I tell my brother, he’ll take you away. You won’t be just mine; you’ll be accused of seducing me when the truth is, I was little nymphy Livvy who—”

He bursts out laughing. “Livvy. I wanted you the second you asked for that first hit.”

My breath catches. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He strokes my cheek, his voice gentle. “Let me handle T. I’ll schedule lunch with him. Seems right for me to be the one to tell him. Plus, something tells me you’d apologize, and there’s nothing to apologize for.” He eyes me intently—my face, my lips, my eyes.

“I just don’t know if it’s worth it. I have only a little more than a week . . .” I scowl menacingly. “I’m not sure it’s worth you getting punched by Tahoe. I happen to be fond of this face.” Softly, I reach out and touch his jaw.

His lips curve upward in amusement. “Trust me. You’re worth it.”

He looks at me for a while, as if something I said touched him deeply. He smiles as he leans his head.

“Come here, Livvy. I’ve been craving you.” His arm slides around my waist, pulling us flush.

His kiss is so very warm. He lowers his head even more and kisses the upper swell of one of my breasts, then moves on to my “freckle,” over my top, kissing it, laving it, and it feels amazing.

He draws me up to his length, his hands covering my ass. He squeezes, then clenches me tight in a bear hug as we kiss.

We don’t move, only our lips do. My fingers spread on his back and I feel everything, his hands splayed on my back and his chest flattening my breasts. His frame nearly swallows me in a cocoon of muscles and strength and warmth.

He watches me as he strips off my top. He lowers the bra cups and he sucks the peak of one nipple into his mouth. He turns his head and does the same to the other nipple. Then he lifts his gaze, leaving both my nipples wet, the cool air making them pucker even more.

I’m breathing through my mouth, disheveled and out of control as I grab the back of his head and try to pull him up to kiss me. He obliges me with a kiss that turns my toes to full-on tingling, then lowers his head and swipes his tongue over one nipple again, then the other, as he continues unbuttoning my shirt and smooths it off my shoulders and arms.