Any Means Necessary

I can breathe again. Laying with Callum in my bed, in my apartment in Oregon, knowing that my sister is okay—I can breathe again. There are still so many things that need to be worked out, so much that still needs to be said. But right now I can just breathe.

Callum shifts in the bed beside me, his giant frame dwarfing my queen sized mattress. What used to be plenty of space just for me feels cramped now that it’s the two of us. I’m suddenly missing the California king waiting for us back in New York.

Turning onto his side, Callum places his elbow on the bed and props his head on his hand to look down at me.

Last night was amazing. So was this morning. But every moment that passes just brings us closer to some harsh realities—realities I’m not looking forward to talking about. Like going back to NYC, and the death of that poor woman and her baby. Unfortunately our night, and morning, of mind blowing sex didn’t erase all of that.

Per usual, those all-seeing eyes are reading me intently. He can see the wheels turning in my head, can sense my mood shifting. “Tell me.”

“Some people deserve what’s coming to them, I understand that. But I’ll never be ok with innocent people getting hurt,” I start. Callum’s expression remains pensive.

“I know.” His response is an acknowledgement, but not a promise. That’s not good enough for me. Holding the sheet to my breasts, I sit up and turn to meet his gaze straight on.

“Significant others and children are off limits, Callum. I mean it.” Callum’s free hand runs down his beard, taking a moment to look at me in consideration.

“There are no guarantees in my business, Dewdrop. But I can promise that I’ll make sparing innocent lives more of a priority.” It’s not exactly what I was hoping for, but I’m realistic enough to know it’s the best he can do. Callum doesn’t lie to me—he might keep information from me, but his words are always honest. As a man of his word, he means what he says. I know I can trust him to follow through, whether he actually wants to or not.

“Do you really care, or are you just doing this for me?” I ask softly. Strong fingers reach up to gently tuck a tendril of my hair behind my ear.

“You are what I care about, Lexie. I’ll do anything for you.” Tugging on my sheet, I let him pull me in to meet his lips sensually. My hand lifts to caress his cheek and play with his beard.

“Anything?” My tone turns teasing. “Even watch reality tv?”

“If that’s what you really want.”

“What about drinking Mountain Dew?”

“Don’t push it,” he growls against my lips, making me laugh. I squeal out a laugh of surprise when he rolls us over until I’m beneath him against the pillows.

Such a control freak, I love him. 

“Okay, okay, fine,” I concede. “Margaritas then.” Callum lifts his head to look down at me, strong fingers tenderly brushing the hair from my face.

“Two margaritas and one episode of Real Housewives,” he negotiates. The smile I give him is nothing short of beaming. “But if Vicky causes a scene at the movie premier after her meltdown at Lisa’s birthday dinner, we’re turning it off.”

“Deal.” He can pretend to hate reality tv all he wants, but I know he’s into it. Every time he says one episode, it easily turns into three without any protest.

***

The shower turns off in the next room, followed by the sound of the glass shower door. I drop the sweater I’ve folded into my suitcase to bring back to New York and walk the few steps to the en-suite bathroom doorway in time to see Callum securing the towel on his waist. Droplets of water cling to him from his shower, running down the ink covering his powerful body.

He’s so damn hot. 

“Okay, look,” I say, leaning against my bathroom door frame and letting out a deep breath dramatically to gear up for my little speech. “I know we have to go back to New York. And I’m guessing with your business it will have to be sooner, rather than later. I signed the contract, so I’ll go with you. But I really need a few more days with my sister.”

Callum’s eyes meet mine in the vanity mirror. He’s pulling what looks like a square of cling-wrap from his chest. It’s something I didn’t notice earlier—I was probably too preoccupied with the how thoroughly I was being railed.

“And it might take me an extra day or two to get my apartment packed up and put into storage. I have a lot of stuff, if you haven’t noticed. Mia can help me sort through everything. I might also have to force Roscoe to do some of the heavy lifting,” I add.

Callum waits patiently for me to get through the monologue before he speaks, the corners of his mouth lifting in amusement. “You done?”

“For now,” I respond, watching him lather some soap in his hands and rub the suds on the area of his chest he just uncovered.

“We can stay as long as you need, Dewdrop. Any business I can’t do from here can wait.” Turning on the faucet, Callum leans forward to scoop water onto his chest and rinse away the soap. “If you love this apartment, you should keep it. If you don’t, we’ll find one that you do love so we have a place to stay when we come to visit. We can pack up anything you want in New York and have it shipped to the penthouse. No matter what you decide, we’ll need a bigger bed.”

His words warm my heart, and I swear I fall in love with him all over again. “You want to get a place in Astoria?”

“It’s where your family is,” he says, as if it’s already a done deal. “I have a lot of places across the country, and a few overseas. I’ll take you to all of them.”

My eyes follow his movements, watching him take the hand towel from the hook to pat his chest dry. I know enough about tattoo care to realize what he’s doing.

“You got a new tattoo?” I ask, stepping closer. The towel pauses mid pat and Callum pulls his hand away with the cloth to reveal the fresh ink coloring his skin. Turning towards me, the image comes into view—with clean lines and beautiful shading filling the once empty space right over his heart. Even with the redness and slight swelling, it’s beautifully done. A work of art to match the rest of the masterpieces decorating his skin.

And it’s pink.

My eyes flash to his in surprise. He’s watching me carefully, his eyes intent on my face as I step closer. “It’s beautiful. What kind of flower is it?” I ask curiously.

Lifting my hand to trace gentle fingertips around the delicate petals inked in vibrant pink, I’m careful not to touch the irritated skin. Callum’s hand covers mine, pressing my palm flat against his chest over the flower. His heart beats against me, the rhythm steady to match my own. Warmth radiates from him, burning through my hand and heating my blood until I’m on fire.

“It’s a dewdrop.” His words wash over me, vibrating through my bones. The breath hitches in my chest, eyes lifting to clash with his. The gravity of his meaning is overwhelming. “You’ve been mine since you signed the contract. But I’ve been yours from the moment you demanded to see my ID. That ink sealed your fate and now this ink seals mine.”

Callum is as powerful as the sea, complicated and unforgiving in his vastness. And I’m completely swept into his undertow. “You got a tattoo for me?” My tone is one of disbelief as I blink up at him. As always, he’s patient while I process.

“You’re it for me, Lexie. You’re permanently etched into my heart, and onto my skin. Piece by piece, you’ve stripped away my control and tore through every one of my walls. There are no masks with you, there never have been. You’re my everything, and I’ll stop at nothing to give you the world.” Brushing a tendril of hair behind my ear, his hand cups my cheek in a caress. I blink up at him through the tears misting my eyes, emotion swelling inside me. “I love you, Dewdrop.”

I’m completely at a loss. What do you say to something like that? I’ve never been so overtaken by such adoration and devotion before. I didn’t even know I could feel like this, like if he wasn’t keeping me firmly in gravity’s pull I could soar through the clouds.

It’s funny how polarizing Callum’s presence can be. His touch is what’s holding me together, the only bond keeping my body from bursting into a puff of particles. But he’s the only one who makes my heart soar.

Keeping my palm over his heart, my other arm goes around his neck to pull his mouth to meet mine. When our lips meet, I kiss him as deeply as his words have affected me. Passion and longing flare between us, but there’s something more—the connection of two souls anchoring to one another.

Strong arms wrap around me and I’m being lifted onto the bathroom counter to make up for some of our height difference. Pulling my legs to wrap around his hips, Callum presses impossibly close until our bodies are molded together like two puzzle pieces finding their home and slotting into place. A perfect fit.

Pulling back, I gaze up at him in wonder. My hand on his chest trails up to caress his cheek. Hazel eyes trace over my face as I marvel at the man in my arms. The big, scary Fixer who terrifies even the most dangerous men. Who finds emotions messy, and hates losing control.

Until he met me.

And now, here he is, openly professing the biggest emotion there is. Love.

His tattoos—that used to warn me away from him and the hint at the danger that resides inside him—now carry his deepest devotion to me. There’s no denying how I feel, not anymore.

“I see you, Callum. All of you. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and you’re all I’ll ever need. My safe place.” He’s waiting to hear the words. “I love you, Callum Russo.” He kisses me so deeply I can feel it in my toes.

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“Wouldn’t you rather have my mouth doing other things?” My teasing is met with an insistent stare, so I relent. “I’m yours, Callum. I love you.”

“Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve needed to hear you say that.”

“Well, now I have. Do you want to keep talking or…?”