Something tells me it’s going to be hard to forget.
Cal eases away from me as a whirlwind of emotions begin to swell up inside of me. He hands me a charcoal gray hoodie. “Here. Cover yourself up.”
So much for pillow talk.
I accept the sweatshirt because now that I’m not on fire from the inside out, I’m starting to get a chill. Though it could be the cold tone wrapped around his warm gesture. Or maybe it’s the thought that I just let another man—who wasn’t Reid—touch me that chills me to the bone. Either way, I bring the sweatshirt over my head to help cover my shame. It’s way too baggy and the sleeves are too long, but it serves its purpose. It smells deliciously masculine.
It smells like him.
What the hell just happened?
I have no idea, but I do know I can’t ever let it happen again.
“I know you like Jaxon, but he can’t protect you,” Cal says, his tone never wavering from the confident timbre it’s always had.
“Protect me from what?” I look back at him.
He’s leaning against Carlos’s desk, his long legs crossed at the ankle, hands in his pockets. He’s so confident, so in control. Like he hadn’t just had his hand in my panties or his mouth on my skin. His gaze sears through me.
“Me.”
Without a word, I turn the knob and walk out the door. And without another word, he lets me.