Last Resort: S.I.N. Series Read online

  Callahan stares at me with an intensity I’ve yet to see from him before. His jaw is clenched and the muscles in his neck are taut.

  It appears I hit a nerve.

  “What’s your point, Ms. Pierce?”

  “Ms. Pierce?” I chuckle sarcastically. He’s never called me that before. “Is that your way of putting me in my place and telling me you’re pissed at me?”

  His amber eyes are unwavering. “If I were putting you in your place, you’d know.”

  I move from where I’m standing near the window and walk to the other side of his office. I glance out the door into the larger office where my desk is and see a few stragglers packing up for the day. Desks get straightened. Lights get turned off. Good nights are murmured.

  And soon, we’ll be all alone in the office.

  I need to get out of here to avoid any rumors arising about the two of us . . . but . . . Callahan has been testy all day. Combative and argumentative. It shouldn’t be sexy. It should be off-putting. Unattractive.

  And yet, it’s had the exact opposite effect.

  Even grumpy, he’s insanely attractive. And I’m turned on. Needless to say, the underpants situation—or lack thereof—certainly hasn’t helped.

  I can’t act on my attraction—that’s a given. But if he opened the door with his stunt this morning, I might as well walk right through it and tease the hell out of him. Isn’t that what Lizzy said in not so many words?

  I turn to study Callahan. His hair is unruly today, his body tense. “What’s eating you, Callahan?”

  “Nothing.”

  “So you’re just acting like an argumentative ass for no reason?”

  “I didn’t get much sleep last night,” he says.

  “I don’t imagine you did considering you were stealing my panties and then scouring the island for their sturdy replacements.”

  “Anything for my girl.” He smirks, clearly proud of himself, the mood suddenly shifting from tense to more playful. “They fit okay?”

  “I wouldn’t know.” I quirk an eyebrow and return the smile as his eyes dart to my thighs and then back up. “Did you know there’s a homeless outreach center on the east side of the island? Anyway, Rhonda at the front desk volunteers there on her days off, so I gave them to her to add to some of the other donations the staff has made.”

  “How charitable of you.”

  “You know me, always willing to give to those in need.”

  “And what about what I need?” He plays with the pen in his hand, but his eyes are locked on mine.

  “I’m pretty sure you can handle your own needs just fine.” I sell the lie despite the ache starting to burn within.

  “Huh.” His eyes dip to my cleavage, to my thighs, and then back up. “So what exactly are you wearing under that skirt of yours, then?”

  Leaning over, I put my hands on his desk and whisper, “Absolutely nothing.”

  His eyes darken immediately, and I’m surprised the room doesn’t ignite from the look alone.

  “Take off your skirt,” he orders in a low, even tone.

  Jesus. If I didn’t think he was sexy before, now, with those words, and his heated stare, I definitely would have.

  I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. “No.”

  “You know I don’t like to be disobeyed.”

  “This isn’t the bedroom, Callahan.” I take a step back and move over to the brown leather love seat in the far corner of the room. “You’re not in control of me.”

  He shoves up from his chair and moves to the office door. He looks out into the now abandoned office before dimming the overhead lights, shutting the door softly, and turning the lock.

  When he turns to face me again, I’m reminded of how turned on I was by his dominance that first night. “Take off your fucking skirt, Collins.”

  I offer a smile as I sink down onto the couch. “What happened to good, old-fashioned negotiations, huh?” My eyes veer to where he’s already hard as a rock and pressing against the seam of his slacks.

  “Sometimes you just have to take matters into your own hands.” And now he repeats my words back to me.

  “Exactly,” I murmur as I lift my flowy skirt up and shift one of my legs onto the cushion beside me, spreading my thighs to give him the view of all views.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” he groans, his fingers moving as if he’s itching to touch. His eyes flicker from my pussy to my eyes then back down.

  “Take out your cock,” I order.

  His eyes whip up to mine, his face a mask of surprise. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. Take it out. Show me how hard I make you.”

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “Giving you your brownie points for a great attempt at a good answer.”

  “But I was wrong?” His eyes track my hand as it rubs up and down my bare thigh.

  “You were wrong.” I move my hand between my thighs this time and let the pad of my finger rub over my clit. His hitched breath fills the room. “But don’t worry, I’m a firm believer in keeping those you work with, those you want things from, incentivized to keep them trying harder.”

  “Is that so?” He starts to walk toward me, his hand finally pulling his cock free of his slacks.

  “Uh-uh-uh.”

  “What?”

  “I said incentivized. Not rewarded. Stay right there.” I know I’m playing with fire. I invite the burn. “You can look, but baby, you can’t touch.”

  “Sutton.” My name is a strained warning from a desperate man.

  “Hmm?” I lift an eyebrow and let a soft moan escape the back of my throat as I slide my fingers farther south.

  “This is cruel.” He chuckles but moves his hands over the head of his cock and back down as he stares at the movement of my fingers.

  “But I’m not breaking any rules, right? It’s not considered sleeping with my boss if we’re not touching.”

  He groans. “Killing your boss is a crime too, though.”

  My breath stutters as I tuck my fingers into my wetness and then bring it back up to moisten my clit. “Stroke your cock, Callahan. Stroke it and let me watch you while you watch me.”

  He rolls his head back on his shoulders as he slides his hand up and back a few times. “You actually think this is a good way to get your panties back?”

  “I don’t care if I get them back.” I moan and let my head fall back as I add more friction. “That just means you’ll know I’m naked every time I pass by your desk. You’ll know just what’s within fingertips’ reach when I slowly bend over to pick up a file that fell off my desk.”

  “Christ.”

  “Pure fucking torture,” I say with a slight smirk. “Now stroke yourself.”

  An eyebrow raises but he does what I say anyway. His strong hand moves from the base of his shaft to the tip and back. It’s mesmerizing to watch. Sexy. Arousing. Intoxicating in the most carnal of ways.

  My fingers move faster, and it’s a conscious thought to keep my eyes open so that I can watch him. Precum glistens his head and is then wiped away by his fingers.

  “God, that’s hot,” I murmur as my fingers fly back and forth. “Are you thinking of me? Of sliding into me? Of pulling out and feeling me tighten around you begging for it to be back in?”

  “Yes. Fuck, yes.”

  “Shh. Quiet,” I moan and let my head fall to the side so I can both watch him and let my body push into the cushions.

  “I don’t fucking care if anyone hears me,” he says.

  “Exactly.” Our eyes meet across the short distance, my point more than made, but the high I’m chasing’s still front and center.

  “That’s not what I—Jesus,” he growls when I tuck my fingers back into myself and mimic what he’s doing to his own cock.

  “It feels so good, Callahan. So damn good.”

  “It’s taking everything I have not to grab your ankles, yank you onto the carpet, and fuck you senseless.”

  Yes.

  Please.

  But I don’t say a word. Can’t. In this moment, I’m so aroused by him that I lose my sense of right and wrong. My defiance versus my compliance. My needs versus my wants.

  My fingers rub faster.

  His hand strokes harder.

  Back and forth.

  Up and down.

  My body tightens and I grow even wetter. I’m on the verge of begging him to do as he threatened. Of yanking me down and fucking me senseless, but right as the words hit my lips, his groan fills the room.

  I watch him come. His cock jerking in his hand as he spills in his other. And if that’s not sexy enough, the look in his eyes—dark, dominant, desirous—as they lock on mine more than pushes me over the edge.

  My orgasm hits me without a care for location or the need for silence. I bite the corner of the pillow as wave after wave washes through me. My breath is heavy and my body floating as I close my eyes and absorb its blissful wrath.

  I yelp when Callahan’s hands grasp my thighs, push against them to spread me wider, and his tongue licks its way between them. My body writhes under his touch as his tongue dips inside me.

  His groan is everything. Part torture, part satisfaction.

  “Callahan,” I warn as I fist a hand in his hair to pull his head up.

  A grin spreads over his arousal-glistened lips. “Can’t blame a man for wanting to taste his brownie points.”

  “You’re incorrigible.” Pressing my foot to his chest, I push him back as I laugh.

  “Guess number two?” he says, lying on his ass with his softening dick still hanging out of his trousers. “Learning the art of negotiation.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Sutton

  “So we’ve experienced five of the top-ten list so far,” Brady sa
ys, running a line through Jeep ride adventures on my tacked list to the bulletin board. “Thoughts?”

  “My thoughts are that all five are feasible for Ocean’s Edge. The question is, how do we adapt them to make them unique? Same goes with employment contracts.”

  “I spoke with Teresa today,” Brady says about Sharpe International’s employment contract lawyer.

  “And?”

  “We went through the employee requests item by item. I explained how they compare to other resorts here, as well as gave my opinion on which ones were dealbreakers. She’s going to draw up a new contract so we have somewhere to start with Solomon,” he says, referring to Ocean’s Edge’s employee representative.

  “Good. That’s great,” I say. “I spoke to two interior designers today and have a call with one later to begin a renovation plan.”

  “Did you like either of the two you spoke with?”

  “The first one not so much. Her mood board said contemporary modern over classic elegance and she fought me on that so she’s a no-go. The second had some great ideas. We’ll see what the third says and then make a decision by the end of the week. We need to get the ball rolling on that so plans can be submitted and materials ordered. The reno most likely will happen after my time here is up, but you’ll have everything in place for a seamless process.”

  He snorts. “Seamless and renovation do not belong in the same sentence.”

  “I know, but one can hope,” I murmur, getting distracted by an email that pops up on my screen from Roz in regards to our conversation earlier. “Oh, and ecotourism is a definite go.”

  “It is?” Brady looks up from his computer, his voice full of surprise as he lifts his chin toward Callahan’s office. “You got the okay on it?”

  A knowing smile slides across my lips. “We negotiated. I won.”

  Brady does a double take and fist-bumps me across the desk. “Kicking ass and taking names. I like it.” He does a little dance that has me laughing and then stills immediately.

  I look over to see Callahan standing there, shoulder leaning against the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, and his eyebrows raised.

  Brady is frozen in place, and the sight of his raised eyebrows and mouth shocked into an “O” with the imposing figure of Callahan over his shoulder is comical.

  “Something funny?” Callahan asks.

  He heard me. I know he heard me, and it’s written all over that gorgeous face of his.

  “We were just celebrating. I was telling Brady that after some thorough negotiations, you agreed to let me move forward with the ecotourism signage as well as offering the customized tours for our guests.”

  “Some very thorough negotiations, indeed.”

  How can he look at me with such a measured, aloof expression when I can’t even look him straight in the eyes without picturing him looking up at me from between my thighs the other night? In the office a few feet away, no less.

  “Yes. Very.”

  “Well, the activities and the amenities are the easy part. You won on that round. Now we need to get to the hard part. Staff benefits, budget projections for salaries, and the costs for updating the décor.”

  “Yes, sir,” I say. “Brady and I were just discussing that before you walked in.”

  “We were,” Brady says with a nod.

  “Good to see that you two are working well together,” Callahan murmurs. “I also think it would be a nice touch to have homemade brownies delivered to every guest’s room upon arrival as a welcome gift.”

  I all but choke on the sip of coffee I just took. “Brownies?”

  He smirks when his eyes meet mine. “Yes. Brownies.” He looks from Brady to me and then back. “Think of it as, what do they call it? Brownie points, if you will, for choosing to stay here.”

  “Brownie points?” Brady repeats.

  “Exactly.” A stoic nod of Callahan’s head. “Keep up the good work. Carry on.”

  He walks out of the office like he does every afternoon to get a late workout in before heading to meetings or falling asleep on the chair in the villa with his laptop on his knees and spreadsheets fanned out across the table.

  Staring at the door he just left through, I can’t help but come to the realization that it’s even harder to resist him than I originally thought.

  I just have to keep reminding myself I don’t care about him. Not his hard work or dedication here. Not the faraway look he gets in his eyes every once in a while when someone mentions his father. Not the raised voices I hear behind closed doors when a call from one of his brothers comes in.

  And definitely not the fact that he keeps trying to answer my question when it’s unanswerable to begin with.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Callahan

  Ten Months Ago

  “Can you please give us a moment?” I look up at Gil Diamante and his daughter Gia who are sitting at the table with us.

  “For?” Gil asks.

  “I need to speak with my father for a few moments,” I say.

  “Is something wrong?” Gia asks, those eyes of hers skimming over me suggestively.

  “Nothing is wrong. We just need to discuss several points in private for a few moments,” I explain.

  “We’ll find a place at the bar. You can find us there when you’re finished.” Gil stands up and pushes his chair in. “But don’t keep us waiting long. I’m not a patient man, Mr. Sharpe.”

  I nod and then watch them move through the restaurant. The soft sounds of silverware on plates and muted conversation can be heard all around us.

  My dad stares out the window of the restaurant to the twinkling lights of the city below us.

  Everything about this feels wrong to me. The Diamantes. The meeting. The contract.

  My dad.

  “I know they brought the contract to try and salvage the deal, Dad, but we’re sticking to our decision from earlier,” I say, mentioning the meeting we had earlier with my brothers. “We’re not signing it.”

  “Last I checked, I was the majority owner of this company.” His smile holds no amusement when he offers it to me. It doesn’t make what I have to do any easier.

  “The projections for Ocean’s Edge Resort aren’t good. Ford and Ledger and the accountants have gone over them with a fine-tooth comb. They’ve spent days trying to make them work in our favor, but between the asking price and the cost needed to turn the resort around, we’re looking at a considerable length of time to recoup our investment.”

  “I’m more than aware what the numbers are.”

  “Besides, it’s far from being the Sharpe brand. It doesn’t fit with our portfolio. It’s—”

  “Are you implying that if something isn’t up to Sharpe expectations that we shouldn’t put value in it?” He quirks an eyebrow, the reference to me and my screw-ups over time noted.

  “Our point of this dinner tonight was to reject the deal. To walk away from it. Remember?”

  He nods and looks at me, but a hollowness is in his eyes, and it feels like he really doesn’t see me. It’s been happening more and more these past few months.

  He lifts his glass and takes a sip of his drink before pushing it away. “This isn’t what I ordered. I don’t even like scotch.”

  I glance at the drink and a sinking feeling hits me.

  He’s getting worse. What started as forgetting things every now and then is now becoming more frequent. Then there are holes in his memory about certain events in his life. Some days those moments are remembered, other days they are not.

  He begged me to play it down to my brothers. Asked me to let him retain his dignity while he waited for the medication to do its trick, but it’s harder than fucking hell to stand by and watch whatever it is, take piece after piece of him.

  Including his favorite scotch.

  “Dad?” I ask and wait for him to orient himself toward me. “What would you like to drink?”

  “Scotch,” he says. “You know what I like.”

  “It’s right here,” I say with a smile and push the glass he just rejected toward him.

  He lifts it and takes a sip. “Perfection.” He hums and closes his eyes as he savors the taste on his tongue. “Talk about hitting the spot.”

  When his eyes look back up to me, they are clear and lucid. I sigh in relief that the episode appears to be over and was shorter than most as of late.