Isobel’s eyes hardened. “Don’t take this as an insult, but your ex was a bitch.”
Callum barked out a laugh that surprised him. “You can talk. Yours is still messing with your life.” That took the humour out of the situation. He planned to deal with this problem for Isobel just as soon as he had a minute to spare. She wouldn’t be paying off her ex-husband’s loan and she wouldn’t be acting as a punching bag, or sex slave, for any man.
“You look scary.” She traced the design of his Celtic knot tattoo.
“I am scary, darlin’. Make no mistake about that.”
“Not to me.” She seemed very confident of that, and he liked it.
“Never to you.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Now get undressed.”
“I don’t want to. Really. How about I just take off my knickers and bend over?”
“And they say romance is dead.” He started to laugh again. It’d been years since he’d laughed this much, if ever. It was a gift. One of many this incredible woman had given him.
“I’m serious here.” She pouted at him. “You aren’t taking me seriously.”
She opened her mouth to protest some more, but Callum silenced her with a kiss. From his limited experience with Isobel, once she let the need take her away, she wouldn’t give a damn about her cellulite. Crazy woman. She was beautiful. Possibly a little on the blind side if she thought he was a work of art, but she was still a miracle to him.
Isobel knew she was pathetic, but there was no way she was stripping in front of a man who could model for a romance book cover. Nope. Not happening. Never.
She knew what she looked like. Her skin was so pasty white it was practically blue. There were white stripes on her belly—her very soft, rounded belly. Her hips didn’t gently curve out from her waist, they lurched out, like two skin-coloured saddlebags. The only time she experienced a thigh gap was when she spread her legs. And she could store a pencil under her saggy boobs—she’d tried after she’d seen it mentioned in a sitcom. If there was any muscle definition on her body, she had yet to find it. And then there was her cellulite. It looked like someone had taken a cheese grater to her backside.
There was no way she’d stack up compared to Callum. He might be missing his feet, but the rest of him was perfection.
“New plan,” Callum said with a glint in his eye. “I’ll do the undressing. You just hang on for the ride.”
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen, and she opened her mouth to tell him so. She never got a chance, because Callum had apparently tired of talking and jumped straight to kissing. Which was a problem, because when Callum kissed her, the only thought in her head was more.
The kiss was deep and hard and long. His hands threaded in her hair, holding her, keeping her in place. Isobel felt like she was spiralling up into the atmosphere. Her feet were no longer on the ground. And the only thing keeping her from floating away entirely was Callum’s hold.
His hands slid down over her shoulders and back, pressing her into him. She felt every single inch of his firm frame. And she desperately needed more. A moan of delight escaped when his hands slipped under the hem of her shirt and she could feel his fingers on her skin. They weren’t soft. They were the hands of a man who worked. And the rasp of that roughness against her skin was deeply erotic.
“Off,” he said against her lips, and she vaguely registered he meant her shirt.
“I don’t want to be naked.”
“We’ll leave your socks on.”
That suddenly seemed like a really good compromise. Isobel lifted her arms for him to whisk the shirt away and toss it onto the floor. A second later, her breasts pressed against that miraculous chest of his. Her sensitive nipples registered the rasp of the smattering of hair across his pecs. It was delicious.
“Can’t get enough of you,” he growled, and then strong arms lifted her.
His lips were on her throat. His tongue laved at her skin. His teeth nipped little stinging bites. Isobel grasped his hair and held him to her. She felt the soft sheets at her back. Felt Callum’s weight come down on top of her. She heard a drawer open and close, but Callum’s weight never shifted from her. She hoped it never would. She was lost, delirious with his touch.
Hands on her breasts, kneading, caressing, teasing. His lips followed. She spread her legs and lifted her hips. Cold metal against her thighs was one more layer of sensation that made up the maelstrom that engulfed her.
Her fingers dug into muscles with very little give. Each flex beneath her touch drove her higher. She wanted to touch every single inch of him. Taste him. Nibble at him. His tongue made swirls on her stomach.
“Love these marks. They’re your tattoos.” He kissed along the stretch marks she bore from her pregnancies.
She heard ripping and realised her underwear was gone. He dipped his head lower, spreading her legs wider and kissing her most intimate of places, lapping at her with his tongue, teasing her with his teeth, driving her out of her mind with need.
“Callum, now,” she demanded, tugging at his shoulders, trying to make him come up over her. Make him cover her. Make him fill her.
“Not yet.” He continued teasing her most sensitive spot.
Isobel panted, desperate for him. “Callum. In me. Now!”
He chuckled, a darkly wicked sound that made her even hungrier for him.
“Not yet.”
“If you don’t get inside me now, I’m going to scream.”
Her muscles were tight. Her toes were tingling. She needed him now.
“You’re going to scream anyway.” He sucked her clit and flicked his tongue over it.
Everything stopped. Froze. Suspended in the atmosphere. And then she was plummeting. Gasping for air. Feeling the rush of the earth coming straight at her.
She vaguely recognised the sound of plastic ripping and knew Callum had remembered to protect them. Then the thought was gone, because Callum was leaning into her.
Cool metal rubbed against her thighs. Warm muscle settled over her. He licked up her throat and she felt the head of his erection press into her. Too slow. Far too slow. She fought against her heavy muscles to wrap her legs around him, pulling him to her in one desperate jerk. They moaned as one as they slammed together.
“Woman, you need to learn patience.”
Isobel licked at his chest and tested the firmness with her teeth. He filled her, stretching her in a way that only he could. She never wanted it to end. She wanted to be locked with him forever.
“Vixen,” he whispered against her ear, making her shiver.
And then he was moving. Long, slow, powerful thrusts that made her lose all coherent thought. This time, they flew together.
CHAPTER 23
“I feel stupid lying here with only woolly socks on,” Isobel said.
“You’re the one who wanted to keep some clothes on. Now you’re officially partially clothed. And, for the record, your stretch marks turn me on nearly as much as all those gorgeous curves of yours.” Callum stroked Isobel’s arm.
“You’re old and your eyesight is obviously fading.”
He grinned at the ceiling. “There is that, but I’d have to be completely blind not to notice how stunning you are.”
“Idiot,” she grumbled.
She lay with her cheek on his chest, playing with the hair. She had one leg thrown over his prosthetics, as though they were real limbs.
“You said earlier that we’re together now?”
Callum honestly didn’t know what answer she wanted to hear, so he went with the truth. “Aye. We’re together.”
She stilled before resuming the circles she was drawing on his chest. “I don’t think I can do another relationship.”
He completely understood. With her experience, there was no way she could trust that he would be there for her. Even marriage hadn’t been a guarantee for her. The only way to prove he was different from the losers she’d known before was to show her. And that would take time.
Fo
r a minute, he was shocked to find himself thinking about a future with Isobel. About permanence. About living his life with what he had now instead of lamenting what he’d lost. She’d given him that. His miracle.
“One day at a time,” he said, and kissed her hair. “We’ve got enough to think about without planning a future. Let’s see how things go first.”
He felt her tense, and she looked up at him. “Callum, are you saying you want a future with me because you think I might be pregnant?”
“No. I’m saying it because you’re you.” He looked down at her. “It’s early days, but Isobel, you’ve got to know that you’ve given me more than I ever expected to have. If this is all I ever get, then it’s still a treasure worth having.”
Her eyes filled with tears and she pressed her cheek back against him.
“What’s it like—having prosthetic legs, I mean?”
The question would normally have sent him into a rage. Instead, he gave it serious consideration. “I’m getting more used to it now. These new legs have an amazing range of mobility. There are moments when I can even forget they aren’t my natural legs. I can run in them, twist around, walk backwards, go upstairs, cycle, even swim. The prosthetics I had before this were much more basic.”
“These sound like a real godsend.”
He could hear the smile in her voice. “Aye. They are. But it’s still different to having your own legs. You have to think about everything you would normally have taken for granted. Like in the morning, you’d swing your legs over the edge of the bed and walk to the bathroom. You wouldn’t even think about it. Now, I need to decide if I’m going to put on my legs first, or get there in my chair.” He stroked her thick hair and felt himself settle. “My body temperature has gone up—that’s another thing that’s different now. I rarely wear anything more than a shirt since the bomb.”
“Why’s that? The body temperature thing.” She pressed an absent-minded kiss to his chest, which made him smile.
“Less surface area to disperse the heat.”
“I would never have thought of that.”
“The other thing I struggle with is not feeling connected to the ground. Before, my feet would be there, feeling the texture and terrain, sending continuous messages to my brain about where I was standing. Messages I didn’t even register that I was receiving. Now, the ground seems far away most days.”
“Like you’re on stilts? Kind of.”
“Aye, kind of.”
She shifted to lie on her stomach, putting her chin on his chest. She humbled him with her beauty. He couldn’t remember ever seeing a more beautiful woman. Inside and out, Isobel Sinclair was stunning.
“It must have been so painful. I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through.” There was compassion, rather than pity, in her eyes.
“It still is painful. Some days I go insane from the sensation of pins and needles in my lower leg or my foot. Phantom pains. On some level, my brain doesn’t realise they’re gone.” He swallowed his pride and gave her the rest. “The worst part for me was feeling incapable. Having to rely on other people and pieces of equipment to get me up and going. Feeling like I wasn’t a real man anymore.”
Her smile was sexy as hell. “Oh, baby, trust me. You are all man.”
He chuckled. “You’re a nut, you know that? I’m pouring my heart out here and you’re thinking about sex. Again.”
“I admit nothing. But if you’d like to start over, I wouldn’t say no.” She batted her eyelashes at him.
“Give me a minute to recover. As you pointed out, I’m an old man.”
“True.” She glanced down his body to his legs. “Will you let me see you with them off?”
He hesitated. “It isn’t pretty.”
“Cry me a river, Mr Universe. You have more muscles than are probably legal.”
With a shake of his head, he moved her aside and sat up. “You asked for it.”
She lay on her side and watched as he released the suction valve on each of the cups holding his residual legs. Without looking at her, he slipped the prosthetics off and put them on the floor beside the bed. He sat there, waiting for her verdict.
His head jerked up when he felt a smooth hand run over the stump on his left leg.
“Badges of courage,” she whispered as she traced a deep and ugly scar that ran up his thigh. “So much courage.”
He looked around at her and saw only understanding in her face.
“You need to kiss me now,” he said roughly.
She made a production of rolling her eyes. “Honestly, you are so demanding. Lie back and I’ll force myself to give you what you need. But I want you to remember that this is a huge effort for me.”
“I appreciate it.” He lay back on the bed, expecting her to lean into him.
But, as usual, Isobel didn’t do what he expected. Instead, she climbed on top of him and straddled his hips.
“Where are the condoms?” she said as she ran her hands up his chest. “I’ve decided to sacrifice myself for the cause.”
“In the drawer. Want to let me in on what the cause is?”
“Why, I’m surprised you don’t already know.” She reached into the drawer, the movement making her grind down on him and earning her a groan. “I’m sacrificing myself to bolster the male ego.” She bit the pack and ripped it open. “Apparently, even though you have more muscles than Jason Momoa, you still need your ego to be stroked.”
“Trust me, that isn’t the part that needs stroking.”
She handed him the condom. “Show me,” she whispered.
And he did.
Twice.
Not bad for an old guy.
CHAPTER 24
“ELLE,” CALLUM BARKED, AND ISOBEL wondered if that was his normal voice for talking to his team. “Why are you wearing fluffy pink handcuffs for bracelets?”
Isobel looked over at the computer expert, who was sitting at the dining table in front of her laptop, and sure enough, her wrists were ringed with novelty cuffs. They clashed with her blue hair and bright yellow sundress.
“Because the bas—” She glanced at Sophie, who was playing on the floor. “The…uh…moron took the key, that’s why. Dimitri cut off the chain, but we can’t get the bracelet part off. None of our keys work, and the nearest locksmith who could do the job is in Glasgow.”
Megan started to laugh, and Callum cut her off with a look.
“You want to tell me which moron we’re talking about?” Callum folded his arms over his grey Henley and glared at his team, which they all seemed really pleased about. Isobel couldn’t help wondering if they were all a little insane, because if Callum gave her that look, she’d run for the hills.
“David. He’s the ba—moron who did this,” Elle said grumpily. “He paid me a visit last night. Told me to stop hacking government databases and then he left.”
“He left her cuffed to the bed, she means.” Megan grinned.
Isobel spilled some coffee grounds. “There was a strange man in the house? How did he get past all of your security? I thought nobody could get in.” She’d felt safe in the basement. In Callum’s arms. In fact, she’d felt so safe down there that she’d spent most of the day hanging out in the basement with Sophie. She’d only surfaced an hour ago to make dinner for the team—her way of saying thank you.
His eyes softened when he looked at her. “You are safe. David worked with us.”
“Plus, he’s like a super spy,” Megan said. “Think James Bond and the guy Tom Cruise plays in Mission: Impossible. He can get in anywhere. But he’s a good guy, we think, so we’re not too worried that he broke in.”
“Not helping,” Callum said.
“He’s no super spy,” Elle muttered. “He’s an irritating pain in my backside, that’s what he is.”
“Why am I hearing about this now?” Callum arched an eyebrow at them. “Nobody thought that telling me about this when it happened was a good idea?”
Dimitri cleared his throat, and it wa
s obvious he desperately wanted to smile. “Um, I tried to, boss. You were kind of occupied. Both times I tried.”
“Way to go, Callum.” Megan held up a hand for a high five, and he just glared at her.
The front door banged open and Ryan and Jack strode in.
“I need food,” Ryan said. “Jack ate all the snacks in the car.”
“I’m a growing boy.” Jack flashed a grin at his mother.
“We haven’t had anything since dinner, which we charged to Rachel’s room.” Ryan looked pleased with himself.
“She’ll make you pay for that,” Megan said. “And dinner was, what? An hour ago?”
Ryan shrugged and headed straight for the pantry. “An hour is a long time for my stomach.”
“Clam.” Sophie was fed up playing and had decided to harass Callum instead. He looked down at her and seemed a little bewildered at her sparkly purple clothes.
“Unicorns?” he muttered with a shake of his head when he saw the pattern covering her jeans.
Sophie was undeterred by his attitude. She lifted her arms in the air. “Up.”
Without hesitation, he bent and picked her up. But Sophie wasn’t satisfied sitting in his arms. She shouted, “Up,” again and climbed onto his shoulders, managing to kick him in the face and yank handfuls of hair as she went. Callum frowned, but he was gentle with Sophie, patiently letting her climb all over him. Once she’d settled on his shoulders, Callum held her feet to steady her, as he very obviously ignored the smiles his team were desperately trying to hide.
Isobel felt a warm rush in the region of her heart and glanced at Jack, who was sitting at the table eating a bag of crisps. The sight of utter wonder on his face as he looked at Callum made Isobel tear up. With a sniff, she went back to making the coffee.
“Nice handcuffs,” Ryan said as he sat down. He put a bag of cookies on the table in front of him and pulled them closer when Jack reached for them. “Mine.”
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