Chapter 18 Basia
BASIA
Idon’t sleep.
I lie there and listen to the apartment breathe around me—the hum of the fridge, the soft tick of the radiator, the city murmuring through the windows.
I asked Caleb to sleep on the couch. To give me space to think, to decide how I want this to go. I thought I was okay with it when I woke up this morning, but after the stalker got close to me when I was with Morgan? I don’t know up from down anymore.
But I do know that my bodyguard rocked my world last night, and I’m still shaking from it.
My body is sore in places I don’t want to think about too closely. My thighs ache. My arms. There’s a warmth between my legs that isn’t embarrassment and isn’t shame and definitely isn’t fear. It’s something stronger than that.
Want. Desire.
That realization should scare me more than it does. What Caleb did to me? It should feel like a violation.
I roll onto my side and stare at the faint outline of a plant against the window—the pothos Morgan bought me as a joke because apparently it’s unkillable.
I’m not convinced. I’ve never been good at keeping things alive.
Not relationships. Not illusions. Not the version of myself who thought she was in control just because she stayed busy and polite and agreeable.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. Another text from Morgan.
Mor:
You okay? You were quiet today at Emily’s.
I’m okay, I promise! And it’s not your fault!
Tell me about you and Caleb. What happened last night?
Bas. I can see you’re reading my texts.
Call me when you wake up
I don’t text back.
I can’t talk to Morgan yet. I can’t talk to Barbara or Emily either. This isn’t something I can filter into a funny anecdote or a half-truth. Because the truth is… I don’t feel violated.
I feel… exposed. Seen. Like something I’ve been holding together with clenched teeth finally cracked open, and instead of bleeding out, I can breathe.
That’s the part that terrifies me.
I push myself upright and swing my legs over the side of the bed. The floor is cold. Real. Grounding. I wrap my cardigan around myself and step into the hallway.
Caleb is exactly where I expect him to be—sitting on the edge of the couch, forearms braced on his thighs, head bowed like he’s been staring at the floor for hours. He looks up the second he hears me.
“Hey,” he says quietly.
“Hey.”
I hover there, suddenly unsure where to put my hands. This man has held me together through terror and threat. He has seen me cry and rage and laugh hysterically at the wrong moments.
And still—this feels harder.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I say.
“Yeah,” he replies. “Me neither.”
Silence stretches. I take a breath. Then another. “I need to talk to you about something,” I say.
His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “Okay.”
I move closer, but I don’t sit next to him. I stay standing, grounding myself through my feet, my spine.
“I’ve been thinking about… what happened,” I begin carefully. “About what almost happened. And what did happen. And about the fact that I’m not angry.”
His eyes flick up to mine. Dark. Focused. Waiting.
“That doesn’t mean you didn’t cross a line,” I continue. “You did. You should know that.”
He winces, then nods once. “I do.”
I swallow. My throat feels tight, but my chest doesn’t. There’s no panic there. Just resolve.
“But I also need you to hear this part,” I say. “I didn’t feel scared. I didn’t feel trapped. I felt… calm. Like my mind finally shut up for the first time in months.”
Caleb exhales slowly through his nose, like he’s steadying himself.
“I’ve spent so long being alert,” I go on. “Watching doors. Watching hands. Watching faces. I didn’t realize how tired I was until I wasn’t in charge anymore.”
His fingers curl against his knees.
“I don’t want to lose myself,” I say quietly. “But I do want to choose when I let go. And who I trust with that.” I finally meet his eyes fully. “I trust you.”
He doesn’t touch me. He doesn’t move closer. He just looks at me like that trust is something sacred he’s terrified of dropping.
“Basia,” he says slowly, carefully, “if you’re saying what I think you’re saying—”
“I’m…” I take a deep, bracing breath before I continue. “I want you to f—fuck me while I’m asleep. Make me come. Come inside me, or on me, whatever you want.”
A low growl rumbles in Caleb’s throat as I speak, making me clench my thighs in an attempt to appease the ache growing there and giving me courage to continue.
“It turns me on so much, thinking about waking up and finding evidence that you… used me while I slept,” I whisper, then look away from the lust burning in his dark eyes. “What kind of sick person am I? I want to wake up knowing that I’ve been raped and—”
“Hey.” He’s with me in two strides, his hands on my arms, his lead tilted down to connect our gazes.
“You’re not sick, Basia. You’re fucking perfect.
” His image blurs as tears form in my eyes.
“It’s just a kink, darling. And you’re safe with me,” he continues, pulling me into his arms until my cheek is pressed against his chest. “You’re so safe with me, baby.
I’m going to take care of your every need. ”
“Then help me sleep,” I breathe as his T-shirt mops up my tears.
He holds me at arm’s length, then uses his finger to tip my chin up.
“Are you sure, Basia?”
His nostrils flare even as he’s asking for my permission. He’s already thinking of everything he wants to do to my unconscious body, I know it. It gives me a rush.
“Yes, Caleb.” I wipe my cheeks and give him a determined look. “I’d like some tea, please.”
His feral grin makes me bite my lower lip as a fresh wave of arousal spreads over my body.
“Go wait in your room,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “I’ll bring you your tea. Then I’ll rub your feet until you fall asleep. Would you like that?”
“Yeah,” I breathe, my heart pounding in my throat. “I’d love that.”