by Mila Ferrera
I pause, her words hitting me right between the eyes. I withdraw my fingers and lay my hand on her thigh. “Yes, you do.”
She blinks down at me. “What?”
“You remember what he said last night? What Alex said? He said he didn’t care what you wanted.” Pain flashes across her features, and I almost feel bad for reminding her of it, but I have to push this. It’s not right. “I need you to understand something, Romy. What you want, it matters to me. It will always matter to me.”
I can tell by looking at her that she’s sorting through the flurry of her thoughts and feelings, but I have no idea what they are. I want to tell her I’m in love with her, because that’s pretty much the only thought in my head. I want to beg her to love me back, because it’s going to hurt so fucking much if she doesn’t. But I don’t want her to think I’m only saying it because I want her body, and with a raging erection pressed against her belly, it’s going to be hard to convince her otherwise. I want to say it at the right moment, and now is not that moment. Now is about what she wants, and only that.
The corner of her mouth lifts, and her fingers flutter around my face, so tender. “Who said you’re not good with words?” she murmurs, kissing her way from my jaw to my chin to my lips. “You want to know what I want?”
I merely nod, because regardless of what she just said, I’m clean out of words right now.
She sits up and strips off the t-shirt. My heart stutters in my chest. I don’t know which part of her I want to stare at most, so my gaze sort of bounces around to her face, her breasts, her thighs. “I want you to take control, Caleb. I want you to be in control right now.”
My eyes snap to hers. “But I thought you needed to have control, to feel safe—”
“I do feel safe.” She gives me a breathtaking smile. “Because I trust you.”
She sits back and scoots away from me a little, then slowly, inch by inch, spreads her knees. Her expression is raw, vulnerable, and painfully sexy as she offers herself. I have to remind myself to breathe. I roll to the side and the icepack slides off my foot. Inspiration strikes, and I sit up and grab the bag, removing a single ice cube before letting the rest topple off the bed.
Ignoring the pain in my ankle, I move toward her, feeling the tremors of her body through the mattress. “Lie back.”
She does. For some reason, having her do what I say like that is the biggest turn on ever. I hold the ice between my fingers and draw it along her lips, which part to allow her tongue to flick at the little cube. I rise up over her and replace the ice with my mouth, hot over cold. Her hand brushes against my cock and it jerks. But when she starts to close her fingers around it, I shake my head. “Not yet.”
She removes her hand. I plunge my tongue deep into her mouth, and she opens wide, gasping as I slide the ice down her throat and around the swell of her breast, circling slowly. I continue the motion as I kiss and nip my way down the wet trail I’ve left, painting myself a map. She caresses my cheek with her knuckles and sighs. Her hips rise off the bed, and I smile as I draw my tongue across her collarbone. I’ve never felt so powerful, knowing Romy wants me, knowing she’s craving something that only I can give her. There’s something primal inside me, shaking the bars of its cage, screaming for release, but I hold it back. Savoring her is better.
I swirl the taut pink bud of her nipple with my tongue while I blaze a chilling trail down the center of her belly with the rapidly melting ice. Her skin is addictive, goosebumped and sensitive, and beneath it I feel every muscle flexing as I torment her. I scrape my teeth along her stomach before letting a few frigid drops fall into her bellybutton. She cries out and then laughs, the best sound in the world, but one that cuts off abruptly as I suck gently, probing that shallow well as she shivers. Her hands are on my shoulders now, pushing me down.
I sit up a little. I want to see what comes next. My fingers are nearly numb as I move the ice over the hollow of her hipbone and into the little patch of hair at the apex of her thighs. “Spread your legs,” I whisper, and nearly moan as she obeys. So pink, so amazingly beautiful and perfect and mine. “Tell me to stop if it’s too much.”
“Not on your life,” she says, tangling her fingers in my hair. “Don’t you dare stop.”
The desperate sound of her voice sends a bolt of frenzied desire through me. How about if it’s too much for me? I sink my teeth into the soft flesh of her inner thigh, not even close to breaking skin, but hard enough to remind her she needs to have a say. She cries out, and even past the roaring in my ears, I register the pleasure. I see it in the rise of her hips, how her toes curl, how she bares herself to me. That primal thing inside me roars. No. Not yet.
I slide what remains of the cube down and down and down, and she whimpers, her thighs tensing. There’s only a tiny shard of ice left; it’s no match for the heat of her body. I watch the rest of it melt as I trace it over the delicate petals of skin around her opening. And then I slide my wet, freezing fingers into all that heat.
“Oh my God,” she gasps, but that’s the last thing she says for a while. My mouth closes around the swollen nub of her clit and she arches, making gorgeous, pleading, animal noises. I move my hand to the small of her back and pull her to me, replacing my fingers with my tongue. Her taste makes me crazy, sweet and hot, mixed with the honeyed tang of her sweat, and I can’t get enough. Romy’s movements become rhythmic as she spirals higher, in search of what she needs. Her fingers tug at my hair, and her thighs press against my cheeks, making the spot where I got punched last night ache, but fuck if I even care.
She comes with a scream, a broken, beautiful sound that snaps my wire. She’s still crying out as I crawl up her body. I’m shoving my pants down my legs when it occurs to me I’m missing something. But then—“I’m on the Pill,” she says breathlessly.
I’ve never done this without a raincoat. “I—are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I want you like this. Just you. Right now.”
Just me. Just her. Skin to skin. My heart thundering, I kick off my sweats so quickly that my twisted ankle kicks back, blazing streaks of pain up my calf. I tense up for a second, but Romy’s fingers close around my cock and everything else goes away. She strokes me from balls to tip, her palm skimming over the incredibly sensitive strip of skin along my length. It’s a light touch, but the build-up it causes is intense. My hips jerk helplessly as the primal thing inside me rattles its cage, straining the hinges and bending the bars. I grasp her knee and push her legs apart, settling my body between them. Her breaths are blasting in my ear, and I raise my head and look into her eyes. I don’t want her to be able to forget this. Ever. I want her to remember. I know I will.
I guide myself to her wet, slick center, grinding my teeth at the sensation. My lower back tingles as I slide in a few inches and pull out. Even if it kills me—and it feels like it might—I have to make this last. I don’t ever want it to end. I do it again, pushing into that tight, slippery heat and withdrawing just as quickly. Romy whimpers every time I do, whispering incoherently. I lean closer, trying to translate her desperate words. I promised her that her wants mattered to me. I force myself to concentrate, sorting out the halting syllables … fuck me … Is that what she’s saying or am I imagining that?
“Fuck me, Caleb,” she whispers. Holy shit. That is what she’s saying. “Come inside me.”
The primal creature breaks loose. I thrust into her and my vision goes dark. My hips piston against her as I bury myself deep again and again and again. For a moment I wonder if I’m hurting her, but then her fingernails start to dig into my ass, urging me on. Our collision is so fucking fierce that I completely lose track of myself. Everything is Romy, her scent, her taste, her cries ringing in my head, her fingernails in my skin, the incredible pressure of her, the heat, the friction. My body against hers, nothing between us. The tension knots in my stomach, in my legs, everything drawing impossibly tight. Her body trembles under mine, my fingers digging into her thigh as I slam into her.
<
br /> I come hard, everything inside me clenching and bursting free. Romy says my name as I disintegrate. She grips my hips and wraps her legs around me as she feels me shudder inside her. Her body is my anchor; her arms catch me as I fall to earth. I sink onto her, holding her tight, wanting to stay inside her forever. An irresistible heaviness seeps through my limbs, and I can’t move, can’t speak, can’t think. Not wanting to suffocate her, I awkwardly roll to the side but don’t let go, still needing her against me. The sensation of her hair tickling my neck is the only thing I’m aware of for a long time.
The rest of the day passes in a fog, lit by moments of blistering pleasure. She makes me keep my ankle up. She orders food and brings it to me in bed. She makes sure I take another ibuprofen when it’s time. She does things to my body that make my eyes cross. No one’s ever taken care of me like this. No one’s ever tried. It hits me a few times, usually when I’m deep inside her, that I’m digging my own grave. I’ve never felt this way, and it’s a little like she’s unleashed one of those superviruses on me or something. I have no immunity, no resistance.
Except it doesn’t feel bad, and I don’t feel sick.
Romy is asleep when I finally get up to take a shower. I sit there for a moment and marvel at how right it looks, her head on my pillow, her body wrapped in my sheet. With a sigh, I limp off to the bathroom. She said I could have another one of those pills soon, and I’ll need it. My ankle feels like someone’s crushing it in a vice. I stand on one foot beneath the stream of hot water, wincing as all my sore spots wake up and complain. I scrub myself down, my body stirring as all my newly created memories float through my head, which only makes me more eager to return to Romy. Clumsily, I climb out of the shower and wrap the towel around my hips.
I’m in the hallway when the front door rattles and swings open. Katie walks in with her bag on her shoulder, dark circles under her eyes, her face a little puffy. She startles when she sees me. “Hey. I’m back.”
Romy had told me that Amy wasn’t dropping her off until tomorrow morning, but there’s no way I’m going to ask her about it. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired. But I had an okay day. Amy didn’t think it would be a big deal if I came back here to sleep. She thought I’d be more comfortable here.”
“Makes sense. You hungry?”
“We had Chinese food.” Her gaze focuses on my chest. “You look bad.” Her face crumples. “I’m really sorry.”
I smile, even though it pulls at the cut on my cheek. “It’s all right. We got out of it okay.” I’m pretty much broke, but hey, at least I don’t have to cancel my credit card or get a new Social Security card. “I’m just happy they didn’t hurt you.”
“I won’t do anything like that again. I promise. It was dumb.” Her eyes are glistening with tears.
“Katie—Catherine—it’s fine—”
“You can call me Katie, Cabe. I don’t mind it when you do. But you and Amy are the only ones.”
I’d hug her if I wasn’t practically naked. “Thanks. I’m … uh … headed back to bed. Do you need anything?”
She shakes her head, glancing down the hall. “Is Romy here?”
“Um, yeah. She’s here.” And naked. In my bed.
“Oh, good. I wanted to tell her about this book I read this afternoon.” She steps toward my room, but I move to block her way.
“Romy’s sleeping, Katie. I’m sure she’d love to talk to you tomorrow.”
Katie looks back and forth from my room to my face. “She’s sleeping … with you … in there?”
“She had a long night, too, and she spent all day taking care of me.”
Katie’s cheeks darken a shade, but she smiles. “Oh, right. Of course.” Her hands fidget over the strap of her bag. “I’m going to take my pills and go to bed.”
“We’ll talk more tomorrow?”
She nods. “Sure. Tomorrow.” She walks straight to her room and disappears inside, closing the door behind her a little harder than necessary.
I stand there for a moment. Something just happened, and I’m not sure I understand it. But it’s going to have to wait until tomorrow. I limp back down the hall and go into my room, shutting the door. I take another ibuprofen, put sweats on in case Katie needs something quickly, and lower myself to the bed. Romy smiles sleepily and throws her arm around my waist. “Hey,” she murmurs. “You smell amazing.”
She grazes her nose over my chest, and I shiver. “Katie’s back.”
She stiffens. “But Amy said … okay. Do you want me to leave?”
I wind my arms around her. “No. We’ve talked about this already.”
“Right. Restraining order,” she murmurs. “I’ll take care of that tomorrow.”
“Good,” I say, holding her close. I don’t ever want to see her look as terrified as she did last night. But also, I don’t want her to go, and I’ll take any excuse to keep her here with me. My hands slide over her warm skin. With a pang of unhappiness, I realize Romy should probably get dressed, too. “Um. Are you cold?”
She starts to shake her head, then puts her hand over my heart and stares into my eyes. She does this sometimes, and I never know what to make of it. “I guess I am sort of chilly,” she finally says. With a sigh, she slips from the bed and puts on a t-shirt of mine before returning to me.
As I welcome her into my arms, Romy presses her lips to my skin and lays her head on my chest. It awakens that possessive, primal creature inside of me again, but with Katie here, there’s no way I’m going to do anything about it. So I wrestle it into submission and lie there quietly, listening to Romy breathe, until I fall asleep again.
Chapter Twenty-five: Romy
I spend all day Monday with Eric and Jude—at the family division of the county court. With Eric’s help and Jude’s support, I gathered my evidence. Time-stamped pictures of my face from January, the night Alex hit me. All the text messages he’s sent over the past month. My report of what happened at the Dexter mansion on Saturday night, leaving any mention of Caleb out. The judge looks disturbed and actually asks if I want to press charges, but I tell him that all I want is for Alex to stay far away from me. I offer up every bit of information I know about him, his phone number, the fact that he attends the law school, the make and model of his car. The police will serve the order and will have to track him down.
I take my two friends out to dinner afterward as a thank you. After we order our meals and settle in, Eric gives me an odd look. “You lied to the judge,” he says in a low voice. “And I need to know why.”
Jude’s eyes get wide, and so do mine. “What are you talking about?” he asks.
“Romy, I have a very hard time believing that Alex just left you alone on Saturday. What really happened?”
I glance at Jude. “Caleb was there. He stopped Alex. I-I think Alex might have really hurt me if Caleb hadn’t taken him on.”
Eric looks pleased, but Jude seems concerned. “Did Caleb lose his temper?”
I laugh. “Yeah. And you want to know what really pissed him off?”
“What?”
“When Alex said he didn’t care what I wanted.” I will never forget it. Even thinking of it now makes me want to laugh and cry and everything in between. “‘That’s the fucking problem right there in a nutshell!’ he shouted.” I snort. “It was epic, actually.” And I love him for it. Even more, I love him because it’s true, because he really believes it.
“Huh,” says Eric. “Maybe Jude needs to give this guy a chance.”
Jude doesn’t say anything, but I think he might agree. It’s a start.
On our way out to the car, my phone buzzes with a text. My mother. Just checking in. Need a final headcount for the Christmas party.
I stare at it for a moment, then put the phone back in my bag. Jude and Eric drop me off at Caleb’s. My heart races as I approach his door. But when he opens it as I raise my hand to knock, all that melts away. “How did it go?” he asks, limping backward to let me in.
“I got it.” I hold up the ex parte order. “They’re going to try to serve him tonight.”
Caleb frowns. “Do you want to stay?”
And there it is. Ever since yesterday, this has been bothering me. Caleb is so protective, and I’m grateful for that. But I want him to ask me to stay not because he’s worried about me, but because he wants me. After Catherine came back last night, Caleb got his clothes on, and from his awkwardness, I could tell he wanted me to do the same. We might have been in his room with the door closed, but he started acting like she was in the room with us. I can’t fault him for that … but it made me sad.
I look toward Catherine’s door. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea for me to stay.” Yesterday, I was in heaven. Yesterday, Caleb turned my world upside-down. Yesterday only confirmed for me that I’m in love with him, even though it feels too soon to say. Yesterday also confirmed how tricky this is. Catherine is Caleb’s first priority, especially since she’s finally giving him a chance after so many years of blaming him. Who am I to screw that up for him? “I mean, I stayed last night, and …”
Caleb is watching me with this inscrutable look on his face. “And …”
“And I’m sure you’re sick of me.”
He laughs. “Did you really just say that?” He’s drawing me against his chest when Catherine comes out of her room, and his arms fall away as soon as he sees her. “Did you decide what you want for dinner?” he asks.
“Are you staying?” she asks me. Caleb squeezes my hand, and I nod. She smiles. “Your choices are mac’n’cheese or … peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”
Caleb rolls his eyes. “Okay. I think I need to make a run to the grocery store.”
“I can go,” I volunteer. Caleb’s pride won’t let him admit it, but he’s totally broke, and I jump at the chance to ease his stress a little. “I’m quicker on my feet at the moment, and my guess is you’ve been putting way too much strain on that ankle today.” His answering expression tells me I’m right, and I grin as relief washes over me—he’s going to let me do this for him.
