Read Online Because He Steals Me (Because He Owns Me #6) by Hannah Ford - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Hannah Ford
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I said. “Holy shit.”
He undid my wrists and I readjusted my clothes and then he pulled me to him and I leaned my head against his chest as Manhattan spun behind us in a dizzying circle.
----
C allum was silent and broody on the drive back to Manhattan, and I wondered if it was because we’d shared an intimate moment – him telling me about his family, and then the way he’d fucked me, making me look at him, putting my arms around his neck instead of keeping me tied to the pole behind him.
When we got back into the city, I realized we were heading into Midtown.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“I told you we can’t go back to the apartment. It’s not safe after what happened this morning.”
“Okay. So then where are we going?”
“The Plaza.”
“Oh.” A hotel. Of course. I tried not to be disappointed about the fact that we weren’t going back to his apartment, his real apartment, the one that he actually lived in.
His phone rang again then, the caller ID flashing on the Bluetooth display of his car.
Rose.
Again.
Callum pressed the button to send it to voicemail, but this time he seemed agitated. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel and turned up the music, something loud with an angry male singer and a pounding beat.
When we got to the hotel, he left the car with the valet, then led me through the lobby and up to the eighteenth floor, where he pulled a key card from his pocket and slid it into the lock.
The room was gorgeous, with an ornate bed and a gold tasseled comforter. There was a roll top desk in the corner, and a TV sat on top of a sleek minibar.
But the blinds on the windows were shut tight, the curtains heavy.
“There are approved pajamas and clothes in the closet,” Callum said. He was standing near the door. He’d carried my duffle bag in from the car, and he set it down on the floor.
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Wait, what?” I took a step toward him, but he moved back toward the door, and averted his gaze. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll be in the room next door.”
“You’re not staying here?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I think it’s better.”
“Better? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that sometimes I need space, Adriana. And tonight is one of those times.”
“Fine.”
“Adriana – ”
“No,” I said. “It’s fine. You made the rules very clear. I agreed to them.”
He hesitated, his hand on the doorknob. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
And then he was gone, out the door, the only thing remaining of him the marks on my ass and the scent of his cologne hanging faintly in the air.
I opened the closet.
There was silky teal nightgown and an outfit for me to wear to work tomorrow hanging inside. I was too tired to even look at what he’d picked out for me. Instead I grabbed the nightgown off the hanger and grabbing my duffle bag. I changed quickly in the bathroom, washing my face and brushing my teeth before gathering my hair into a loose bun and sliding into bed.
I tossed and turned, unable to sleep, wide awake, missing him, wondering why he’d left. My skin felt hot and cold, and I couldn’t get comfortable. At one point, I felt the tears starting, and I thought about leaving, just walking out of here and going back to my apartment and never coming back.
It was four in the morning when I heard the key card slide into the lock.
I wasn’t scared or nervous.
I knew it was him.
He didn’t say anything, just stood at the side of my bed in the shadows, before he pulled off his t-shirt and boxers and slid into bed with me, inching my nightgown up past my hips, over my breasts, until I was naked.
He pulled me to him, and held me, curving his naked body around mine.
The silence hung heavy in the room, and I waited for him to say something, to give me an indication of why he was here, why he’d come back.
But he didn’t.
Instead, a few moments
He undid my wrists and I readjusted my clothes and then he pulled me to him and I leaned my head against his chest as Manhattan spun behind us in a dizzying circle.
----
C allum was silent and broody on the drive back to Manhattan, and I wondered if it was because we’d shared an intimate moment – him telling me about his family, and then the way he’d fucked me, making me look at him, putting my arms around his neck instead of keeping me tied to the pole behind him.
When we got back into the city, I realized we were heading into Midtown.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“I told you we can’t go back to the apartment. It’s not safe after what happened this morning.”
“Okay. So then where are we going?”
“The Plaza.”
“Oh.” A hotel. Of course. I tried not to be disappointed about the fact that we weren’t going back to his apartment, his real apartment, the one that he actually lived in.
His phone rang again then, the caller ID flashing on the Bluetooth display of his car.
Rose.
Again.
Callum pressed the button to send it to voicemail, but this time he seemed agitated. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel and turned up the music, something loud with an angry male singer and a pounding beat.
When we got to the hotel, he left the car with the valet, then led me through the lobby and up to the eighteenth floor, where he pulled a key card from his pocket and slid it into the lock.
The room was gorgeous, with an ornate bed and a gold tasseled comforter. There was a roll top desk in the corner, and a TV sat on top of a sleek minibar.
But the blinds on the windows were shut tight, the curtains heavy.
“There are approved pajamas and clothes in the closet,” Callum said. He was standing near the door. He’d carried my duffle bag in from the car, and he set it down on the floor.
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Wait, what?” I took a step toward him, but he moved back toward the door, and averted his gaze. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll be in the room next door.”
“You’re not staying here?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I think it’s better.”
“Better? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that sometimes I need space, Adriana. And tonight is one of those times.”
“Fine.”
“Adriana – ”
“No,” I said. “It’s fine. You made the rules very clear. I agreed to them.”
He hesitated, his hand on the doorknob. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
And then he was gone, out the door, the only thing remaining of him the marks on my ass and the scent of his cologne hanging faintly in the air.
I opened the closet.
There was silky teal nightgown and an outfit for me to wear to work tomorrow hanging inside. I was too tired to even look at what he’d picked out for me. Instead I grabbed the nightgown off the hanger and grabbing my duffle bag. I changed quickly in the bathroom, washing my face and brushing my teeth before gathering my hair into a loose bun and sliding into bed.
I tossed and turned, unable to sleep, wide awake, missing him, wondering why he’d left. My skin felt hot and cold, and I couldn’t get comfortable. At one point, I felt the tears starting, and I thought about leaving, just walking out of here and going back to my apartment and never coming back.
It was four in the morning when I heard the key card slide into the lock.
I wasn’t scared or nervous.
I knew it was him.
He didn’t say anything, just stood at the side of my bed in the shadows, before he pulled off his t-shirt and boxers and slid into bed with me, inching my nightgown up past my hips, over my breasts, until I was naked.
He pulled me to him, and held me, curving his naked body around mine.
The silence hung heavy in the room, and I waited for him to say something, to give me an indication of why he was here, why he’d come back.
But he didn’t.
Instead, a few moments
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