His Red Carnation (Forbidden Blooms #1)

9. Sloane

9

Sloane

I was going to be petty, and I didn’t care. It wasn’t like me, but Callan had me doing and saying things that were so out of character. I needed to show him I was worth the fight. And if that meant going out with another guy to make him jealous, then so be it.

I texted my mom that night as I lay in bed, crying off and on, feeling sorry for myself. I wanted so badly to text Callan, but I couldn’t give in. If he wanted to talk, he could text me first.

Hey Mom. Who was that guy you said I’d like? The son of that one guy?

I had half paid attention when she’d mentioned some twenty-year-old she thought was adorable. Apparently, they met at a dinner, and she was impressed enough to get his number for me. She was always trying to play matchmaker, much to Dad’s dismay.

James Miller? Mayor Miller’s son?

I rolled my eyes, sighing. I didn’t want this James guy—I wanted Callan.

I guess? What was his number again? I wondered how suspicious I sounded, trying to get a guy’s number while my parents were out of town. Mom was pretty open-minded, though.

She texted back the number, then added: Please be careful. Let Callan know where you’ll be.

I laughed to myself. How ironic. Thanks, Mom.

I copied and pasted his number, sending a quick text. Hey. This is Sloane. Embarrassingly, I got your number from my mom.

Setting my phone down, I grabbed my laptop off the end table, wondering what Callan was doing. My phone vibrated only a minute later.

Hey Sloane. I’m glad to hear from you. I didn’t think I would, haha. What’s going on?

I sighed, texting back. Not much. Where do you live again?

I needed to be persistent if I was going to make Callan jealous. I’m off-campus at Georgetown. Wanna hang out or something?

I smiled, feeling like my plan was working. Glancing at my phone, I noticed it was 8:07 p.m.—not too late for dinner. Yeah. Meet for dinner?

He replied almost instantly. Yeah, that would be cool. I know a good place downtown. I’ll text you the address. Meet around 9?

I was already dreading it. Sounds good. See you then.

* * *

I slipped into my most flattering dress—a yellow silk mini that hugged my curves and showed off my best assets. Chunky heels and bold red lipstick completed the look. As I walked into the hall, I glanced around, hoping to spot Callan. The rain had stopped a couple of hours ago, but the sticky heat lingered in the air, even indoors.

“Sloane.” Callan’s voice came from behind me.

I turned, and there he was, leaning against the hall, his eyes roaming over me. He took me all in, and the ache of wanting him flared up inside me. But apparently, he didn’t want me enough.

“Where are you going?” His gaze dipped briefly to my cleavage before he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“I forgot I had a thing tonight. A dinner thing.” It wasn’t a lie, but I wasn’t exactly telling him the whole truth either.

“What dinner thing? With who?” he pressed, stepping closer, his expression shifting to something serious, almost concerned.

“You don’t want to know,” I muttered, turning on my heel to walk away.

“Sloane.” He grabbed my arm and spun me around.

My heart raced, desire surging hot and fast. My chest rose and fell rapidly as I stared at him, every nerve in my body screaming for him to throw me into my bedroom and fuck me senseless.

“I promise you don’t want to know,” I whispered, Callan’s face only inches from mine as he hovered above me.

His expression flickered between anger and concern. “Tell me.”

“Let go of me,” I argued, trying to keep my voice steady.

He ignored my plea. “Tell me, Sloane.”

I sighed, pulling myself free from his grip. “My mom set me up with this guy. Long before we ever…met.” I crossed my arms, staring anywhere but at him. “We’re having dinner downtown.”

Callan licked his lips, his eyes darkening with anger when I finally dared to glance up at him.

He let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “You’re not fucking doing that.”

My mouth dropped open, and I laughed in disbelief right back. “What?”

“You’re gonna go on a fucking date when we just fucked a few hours ago?”

Was he seriously judging me?

“You’re the one who said we can’t do this,” I hissed, feeling my own anger bubbling up. “You don’t get to dictate what I do or who I see.”

Callan fell silent, but the anger simmering beneath the surface didn’t fade. He looked like he was wrestling with what to say next.

“I’m driving you there. And you’re not fucking going anywhere else with him,” he growled before storming toward the stairs. I quickly caught up with him.

“You’re really going to drive me to a date?” I scoffed, trailing him down the stairs.

“Mmhmm.”

Maybe he really doesn’t care about me. I followed him to his SUV, and he held the passenger door open for me, but I brushed past him, opening the door behind the driver’s seat and slamming it shut.

“So, where are you meeting this fuck face?” he asked as soon as he started the engine.

“Downtown. Here.” I leaned forward, typing the address into the built-in GPS, catching the familiar scent of his woodsy cologne as I moved back to my seat.

As the car began to move, I stared out the window, willing Callan to say something— anything . The only thing that kept running through my head was, pull over and fuck me right now.

After a few minutes, he finally broke the silence. “So, who is this idiot?”

I sighed, holding back a smile, enjoying the jealousy in his voice.

“I don’t know. His name’s James. He’s some mayor’s son.”

Callan scoffed, saying nothing more until we reached the restaurant in the heart of downtown.

“Don’t let this fucking kid touch you,” he warned as I opened the door. “I’ll be right here, Sloane—”

I slammed the door shut behind me, cutting him off. Flipping my hair, I glanced back through the window, catching Callan’s scowl. This is such a bad idea.

As I walked into the restaurant, regret hit me instantly—I had no clue what James looked like, and now I felt completely out of place as curious eyes followed me. Pulling out my phone, I shot him a quick text.

I’m here, but I have no idea what you look like.

I scanned the room nervously until I spotted an attractive guy approaching. Brown wavy hair, a big, bright smile with dimples, medium build, taller than me, wearing casual jeans and a bomber jacket.

“Sloane, hey. I’m James,” he said, extending his hand for a shake.

He was cute, but he was no Callan.

I smiled. “Hey.”

He gestured toward the restaurant. “I’ve got a table for us outside. A little more privacy that way,” he explained, sounding a bit nervous.

He’s sweet. “Okay, after you.”

I followed him through the crowded restaurant and out a side door that led to a cozy outdoor space, small tables adorned with lone candles flickering in the middle. Only two other couples were nearby, neither paying any attention to us. I felt a little more at ease.

James pulled out my chair for me, then sat across from me.

“So, um.” He smiled nervously. “What made you decide to text me tonight?”

I glanced down at the table, guilt creeping in. I was using him to make Callan jealous, and that didn’t sit right with me.

“I, uh…I don’t really know.” I laughed softly, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I guess I just wanted some company.” I shrugged, meeting his eyes again.

He nodded, offering a small smile. “I’m happy to keep you company.”

Under different circumstances, I’d be thrilled to be on a date with him. He was sweet, attractive, and kind. But I was already tangled up in whatever this thing was with Callan.

I quickly changed the subject. “So, you go to Georgetown?”

He nodded. “Almost a senior. I’m a psych major. What about you?”

The waiter arrived, placing water and menus in front of us before leaving. As soon as he walked away, I answered.

“I’m actually graduating next month. Haven’t decided on college yet, but it’s looking like Berkeley.”

James smiled, nodding. “I love it out there. I almost went to Berkeley too.”

“Oh, really?” My voice sounded too excited—I didn’t want to be excited for anyone but Callan.

We continued with small talk, and I started to feel more at ease. James was sweet, but I knew by the end of the meal that I didn’t want to see him again, at least not romantically. How was I ever going to move on from Callan? James was great and all, but Callan…Callan was a real man—fierce, ungodly attractive, and impossible to forget.

As I laughed at a joke James made, a familiar figure caught my eye. Turning my head, I saw Callan walk through the side door, his stride purposeful, his face twisted with unmistakable anger.

“Sloane. I’ve been trying to reach you,” Callan said in his deep, low voice, not even sparing a glance at James.

“Uh…my phone’s in my purse,” I explained, fumbling for the small bag hanging off my chair.

“We need to get you home. I can’t explain right now, but we need to leave. Now. ”

I looked up at him, eyes wide, my heart racing with anxiety. What the hell is going on?

“I hope everything’s okay,” James chimed in, his voice uncertain.

I glanced at James, then back at Callan.

“Now, Sloane. It’s urgent.” His tone was sharp, impatient, his eyes still refusing to acknowledge James.

“Uh…okay.” I stood up, frowning at James. “I’m sorry, James. It was nice meeting you.”

“Yeah—” he started, but Callan grabbed my arm and pulled me away before he could finish.

I hurried to keep up, nerves eating at me as a hundred worst-case scenarios flashed through my mind. What if someone hurt my dad? Or worse…

“What’s going on?” I asked as we rushed out of the restaurant into the warm, sticky night air.

Callan didn’t answer, gripping my hand and leading me several blocks away from the downtown chaos.

“Please, Callan. Tell me what’s going on. Is my dad okay?” I asked, my voice trembling as tears welled in my eyes.

He stopped, glancing back at me. “Yes. Your dad’s fine. Everything is fine.” He picked up the pace again, pulling me into a narrow alley.

Frustration boiled over. “Stop, Callan,” I snapped, yanking my hand free from his.

He spun around, and even in the darkness, I could see his chest rising and falling rapidly, his eyes dark with intensity. Without warning, he pressed me against the wall, his body close, heat radiating between us.

“You think I’m gonna let some fucking boy touch you? You’re mine, Sloane. You’re fucking mine, ” he growled, then crashed his lips against mine, the kiss rough and desperate.

My mind went blank as I wrapped my leg around Callan, his hard body pinning me firmly against the wall. He hoisted my other leg up, lifting me effortlessly, my dress riding up as he grabbed my thighs. His erection pressed against my already dripping pussy, grinding into me with a desperate urgency. I heard his zipper slide down as he freed one hand from my leg.

“You win, baby. You fucking win,” he breathed, quickly swiping my panties to the side and thrusting into me with an urgent need.

“Fuck, Callan,” I whined into his ear, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as I bounced on his cock, my slickness making every movement fluid, his thick length sliding in and out with ease.

The friction against my clit sent me spiraling, my body giving in to a sharp orgasm. A low moan escaped my lips, half aware that we were out in public but too far gone to care.

“My cock is the only one you will ever come on. You understand me, Sloane?” His voice was rough, and he tugged my hair back, forcing me to look into his dark, intense eyes as he kept grinding into me.

“Yes, yes—” I moaned, my body trembling as another orgasm rushed through me, my eyes fluttering shut just as Callan let out a deep, throaty groan.

His hips slowed, and he trailed kisses along my neck and shoulder before his lips found mine. He kissed me hard, fierce, and possessive, and in that moment, I knew—Callan was mine.