Crashing into Love by Flora Ferrari

Chapter Two

Callie

My whole body is thrumming with the aftershocks of the crash as I inch the car to the side of the road, into an alleyway between two apartment buildings, joining the sleek black BMW I slammed into.

I can’t freaking believe I did that, pulling out like that without looking. Tears threaten to spill from my eyes when I think about how horribly wrong it could’ve gone, how much pain I could’ve caused.

This is going to be a nightmare. I don’t have insurance and the man in the car sounded like he was ready to tear me apart for my stupidity.

I climb from my car and look over at the BMW. The windows are tinted, showing me a reflection of myself, making me look like a scared teenager instead of an independent twenty year old woman.

Slowly, the car door opens and the man steps out.

I try not to gasp as my gaze roams over him, all six and a half feet of him. He’s wearing a pale blue shirt that can barely contain his muscles, his chest seeming to bulge, to pulse with his anger. His eyes are a stark wolfish blue and his lips are twisted into a savage smirk like he’s going to laugh as he dismantles me. His hair is silver, glistening in the sunlight.

Something aches deep inside of me, something I’ve never felt before. My whole body starts to pulse and my sex grows tight, hot, inappropriate wetness threatening to flood my panties.

I close my eyes for long a moment, as though that will push away the sensations.

But when I open them and the man is standing bare feet from me, all I want to do is throw myself at him, tear my fingernails down his chest until they snap against his rock hard muscles.

What the heck has gotten into me?

I never react like this around boys.

But he’s no boy.

He’s all man.

“So that wasn’t very smart,” he practically growls, a shiver in his voice.

He looms over me like any moment he could snap into action, lash his hand out and curl it around my throat. I quickly kill any hopes I might’ve had that he feels the same irresistible feeling that burns up inside of me because obviously, he doesn’t.

Obviously, he’s just a handsome older man pissed that a doofus twenty year old slammed into his car.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur.

“What the hell were you doing?”

“I’ve got this delivery job, food delivery, and I was trying to get back to the restaurant so I could make the next order. My boss is a bit of a hard ass, always on my case. And my mom… Well, it doesn’t matter. Is the damage really bad?”

He gestures to his car.

I peer around him and see that the rear of the car is dented and the paint is scuffed, silver showing through. Like the silver of his hair – hair I want to run my fingers through, savoring the feeling of him, the closeness.

I need to stop. It’s ridiculous. He’s pissed at me.

He’d laugh if he knew what I was thinking.

“Somebody could’ve been hurt.”

Throwing my hands up, I take a step back. There’s too much energy pulsing between us, even if it’s all in my head, even if he looks like he’s ready to snap me in half.

“I know, I know. Do you think I’m happy about what happened? I feel like the biggest jackass in the world. And now I’m going to miss out on a night’s pay, or maybe lose my job. I need that freaking job because of my mom…”

“What about your mom?” he growls. “You’ve done that twice now, mentioned her, and then fallen silent. What is it?”

I let my gaze drop.

Looking at him is too difficult, sending my overactive imagination into carnal places, hot springs of lust and need pulsing inside me. It’s so out of place, so freaking annoying, how untamed this stranger makes my thoughts.

“It doesn’t matter. I can pay for the damages.”

He sighs darkly. “What’s your name?”

“Callie,” I tell him. “Callie Simpkins.”

“Nice to meet you, Callie.” He reaches across and offers me his hand. “I’m Conrad Cage.”

I stare at his large strong hand for a moment, wondering what it would feel like to be grabbed by a hand like that, for him to squeeze down on my thigh and then drag it up toward my sex.

I’m standing here like a doofus, staring at him. I quickly take his hand and shake it.

Freaking heck.

Is he made out of pure electricity or something?

A sizzle travels up my arm, making my heartbeat thunder with savage speed inside my chest, a drumming I can barely control. I swallow as we shake, daring to look up at him, to check if he’s feeling the same unbelievable spark I am.

But he looks grim, eyebrows low, mouth twisted into something like a grimace… but is that a smirk I detect at the corner of his mouth, trying to change his grimace into something else?

“Conrad Cage,” I murmur, letting my hand drop. “It sounds like a superhero’s name or something.”

He shrugs. “Maybe it does. But I’m no hero. Listen, Callie, I need to get to work. Why don’t you give me your details and we can iron this out later?”

“What details?” I murmur.

His eyes gleam like moonlight. It’s impossible to read the shifting emotions in them. “Your address. I could swing by when I’m done.”

My heart pounds even faster, sending tingling sensations all over my body. My skin feels ultra sensitive and my nipples graze roughly against my bra, sending so many shuddering inducing through me it’s difficult to handle.

“What time do you get off work?” I ask, struggling to keep my voice under control.

“Around midnight. Is that going to be a problem?”

I look past him, at the scuffed paintwork, the dented metal.

Is this some sort of game, to punish me for what I did to his car? Maybe he’s going to gather up a bunch of his friends and teepee our place or something. Or maybe he’s going to smash through the door in a ski mask, roaring at us to hand over everything we’ve got.

It just doesn’t make sense. Why would he want to see me again so soon when it looks like he hates me.

“Don’t worry.” He finally smirks. “I’m not going to hurt you. But we need to deal with this, and I haven’t got the time right now. So?”

Something tightens inside me, a needy deep place, buried in my belly. For a crazy absurd moment, I think it’s my womb, sending me insane signals through my body, telling me to give myself to this man so we can be together, have babies, start a family.

I push away the thoughts and nod and shake my head – both at the same time, as indecision and uncertainty swirl through me.

“Okay, okay,” I say. “I’ll give you my address. And then we’ll get this all dealt with.”

He reaches into his pocket and takes out his phone, unlocks it, and hands it to me. As I take it, our fingers brush. That sparking feeling strikes me again. It climbs up my arm, into my chest, causing warmth to blossom and spread.

“Put it in a memo file,” he says. “It should be on the homepage.”

I find the app and let my eyes scan over the other entries. It’s a long list of surgeries, bypasses, and reconstructions, and a bunch of terms I don’t recognize.

“Are you a surgeon?” I ask once I’ve put in my address.

He nods, taking the phone back. This time our fingers don’t touch. I can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed.

“Yes, I am. Which is why I need to go right now. But first, you need to tell me something.”

He steps forward, so close I can smell his aftershave. Or is that just how he smells, manly and musky and compelling?

I fight the urge to reach up and dig my fingernails into his shoulders.

“What?” I whisper.

“The address you gave me, Callie. Was it your real one? It’s very, very important that it is. Because I can’t risk losing you.”

A whimper escapes me.

Losing me…

“Because of the car,” I say.

I can’t let myself hope and dream it could possibly be anything else.

His jaw tightens, and again that light takes possession of his wolfish eyes. “Yes, because of the car.”

“It’s my real address. I promise.”

He nods, turning toward his BMW. “Good. See you at midnight.”

He climbs in and drives away, the rear of the vehicle rattling a little where something has come loose. I stare at him, hardly believing what just happened, and then my gaze drifts over to my car. It was already a wreck before. Now it’s a complete mess.

Pulling out my cell phone, I dread the call I’m going to have to make. While Conrad’s car had a little scuffing on it, my bumper looks like it’s going to fall off. There’s no way I can risk driving it and getting a ticket, or arrested, or whatever the heck happens when you drive a piece of junk that’s falling apart around the city.

I’m going to have to call my boss, which means he’s probably going to fire me, leaving me and my mom unable to pay our rent.

And yet, despite this oncoming hell, I can’t help but smile when I think about Conrad Cage, our fingers brushing, electricity sparkling inside me.