32. Chapter 32

Chapter thirty-two

Juliette

I am a responsible, logical, tax-paying citizen.

The loud hum of the hair-dryer drowned out my claims.

I can stop whenever I want.

A piece of my bangs slapped my eyeball.

I deserved that.

Alone in the house, because Caleb had gone to drop off Kelsey to Ana's, I was trying to do anything but think about Caleb. Unfortunately, for me, he was everywhere. Including my cell phone, which vibrated with his texts on the counter beside me. As a test of my ability to remain unaffected, I wouldn't check those messages until I was done blow drying my hair.

I would not—Absolutely Not—hang on the every word of a man.

The vibrating stopped. The blow dryer and I continued our ritual. I only checked the messages when my hair was pin-straight.

Heading to grocery store. Need anything?

Chicken or steak?

Does Kels have cereal? Also, provolone cheese is on sale. Do you like that or are we sticking to the usual?

What's the milk situation?

You in the shower? I need answers.

It's been ten minutes, are you mad at me?

I'm assuming you slipped and fell and will abandon all these groceries to call an ambulance if you don't answer. Then you'll have to do the shopping.

"Shit," I muttered. I really needed that milk. I dialed his number and waited, counting the dial tones. I rounded the staircase, noticed a plant that looked a bit wilted (she was being dramatic, I had watered her the other day) and jumped when the front door opened.

"Oh good, you're alive. I ended up buying the milk. Is that you calling?"

Caleb's dark hair fell over her forehead as he dropped the groceries on the kitchen floor and rummaged through his pocket. He was in need of a haircut, the hair at his nape had begun to curl. His sweater was unzipped, hanging open, with his running shorts heavy on one side with his phone and wallet. That smile, though.

Nonchalance was never a good look on me anyway.

I nodded.

"Were you ignoring me?"

I nodded, tucking my phone under the lip of the potted plant's plate.

"Why?" he dragged the vowel sound out. I could feel him trying to read the room.

I crossed to the sink and filled a cup with water as I responded. "I was testing my willpower."

"Over groceries? Well, I got the provolone whether you like it or not."

I watered my Peace Lily. "I like it."

"What is going on?" he asked, dropping the bags on the counter.

"I didn't know the texts were about groceries. If I had, I would have responded," I said.

"What did you think I was badgering you for at seven forty in the morning?"

"I thought you might be flirting with me," I said, cutting a glance his way. He wasn't reading the room. No surprise there. I walked to the kitchen to put away the cup and get closer to him.

"Oh yeah, you know me, milk as foreplay. Mmm, baby, does my deli counter panic turn you on?" He was being snippy with me. His tone flat and clearly annoyed. He was putting away the groceries to hide it. "Could you maybe check the text first next time before deciding to ignore me?"

"Are you mad at me?"

"No," he snapped, "are you?"

"I think you're a little mad," I said, slipping my hands around his waist .

"Don't send me mixed signals, Juliette. I can't—"

I slid my hands down his thighs.

"I'm clean. Want to see the results?"

"You sent them to me last night."

"It's hard to think when you're," he lifted me onto the counter, my legs spread wide. The rest of that sentence was lost between our lips. "So fucking pretty," he murmured eventually. I leaned into the warmth of his hands splayed across my spine.

"We probably shouldn't," I said, my hands finding their way to his hair and pulling. "This is really messy."

"It's fine. We'll deal with it later," he replied, biting my bottom lip before kissing his way down my neck.

"Or not at all."

Caleb chuckled. "It's fine. We'll stop eventually."

"It's Spring fever."

"It's almost summer."

"It's May. Whatever."

"Mhm." Caleb squeezed my calf muscles, wrapping them around his waist. Hands on my ass he carried me up the stairs.

"We'll just try out all the positions," I said between kisses.

"Uh-huh." His hold on me tightened, the hallway giving way to my bedroom.

My heartbeat at a gallop, I gasped for breath. I vowed, "And then we'll stop."

"Okay."

"We're adults. Completely in control." The last word came out in a squeak as he tossed me onto the bed. The second spent in the air sent an exhilarating thrill up my spine. I landed less than gracefully and scrambled to come to my knees. Heart racing. Body electrified with want. Feeling completely, and totally, alive.

"Speak for yourself." He reached with one hand to the hollow between his scapulae and ripped off his shirt. "Take it off," he said, dropping his gaze to my chest .

It must have taken me too long to comply. As I lifted the hem, Caleb's fingers clamped over mine. I heard the seam pop and tear as he lifted my shirt and I surrendered control, lifting my arms to help minimize damage. "Caleb!"

He was over me. His palm caught the arch of my spine, pressing me closer to his naked skin. "If it makes you feel better, sure," he said. I could feel him unhook my bra, nipples tightening. "We definitely aren't making things worse by fucking again." He tore off my shorts, taking my underwear with them. "And I definitely haven't spent the last two days obsessing over you."

"God, we're so fucking stupid," I groaned. And yet, my fingers hooked into the waistband of his shorts and ripped them down the same rough way he'd undressed me.

Caleb cupped my chin and forced my gaze up to his. That smile. The mischief in his eyes. A playful shrug of his shoulders. "It's fine. We'll deal with the consequences later."

I squeezed my eyes shut. "I've never made so many bad decisions at once." Anticipation flooded my good sense as I lay back, pulling him down by the neck to be washed away with me by the current.

The nerves that branched out from my spine excited at the weight of him. I pressed my hips up into his, restless to feel his skin on mine, heart fluttering like a hummingbird's wing at the back of my throat.

"Me neither. Is that why you were ignoring me?" he asked, cut off to a whimper when I wrapped my hand around him.

I nodded, kissing him rather than give voice to my vulnerabilities.

"Fuck, you're already wet," he said, glancing down to see me.

"You smell so fucking good," I whispered against his throat, teasing the tip of his cock against my aching flesh. "You're going to feel so good inside of me." He gasped as I pressed his tip into me and the thrill of his pleasure, my power to give and take it away, finally turned off the part of my brain that was fighting this. Because there was no more to argue. No more to withhold. No more lines to draw and deny.

I wanted this.

I wanted him .

And he wanted me.

He bit my shoulder so hard it hurt. "Don't talk to me like that," he warned.

"Why not?" I ground up into him, taking him a few inches deeper.

"Makes me want you to pick a safe word."

"It's sweet that you think I want to be respected."

"Juliette." My name was low in his throat, pressed against the pulse in my neck, and it dripped lusciously down to where our bodies were joined. A warning. A promise.

I traced the notches of his spine, traveling downwards, his skin so silken in contrast to the tight, flexed muscles of his back. I moaned. "It's okay, Caleb, I can take it."

He sat up, dragged me by the hips to meet him, and gave it to me. Inky black gaze and fingers scoring into my flesh, he took. And I lay there, arms above my head, crying out as the delicious, fevered rhythm of his lust branded me.

And it felt good .

Every bit as good as performing for a full, enraptured audience.

Better.

Because it was just me, and him, and us. And this impossibly taut chord of attraction that should never have existed, snapping.