Chapter 7 Calder #2
Her eyes meet mine in the fading light, and something shifts. The fear is still there, but underneath it is something else. Recognition. Memory. She’s thinking about that night too—I can see it in the way her breath catches, in the way her pupils dilate slightly.
“Calder,” she breathes, and my name on her lips in that dizzy tone stirs a fire low in my belly.
“You should have stayed on the bed,” I tell her, my voice coming out rougher than intended. “I told you there would be consequences if you ran.”
“You didn’t tell me anything,” she shoots back, some of the fire returning to her eyes despite the tears. “You just said it would end badly. That someone would get hurt.”
“Yeah. You. That you would get hurt.” I shift my weight slightly, and feel her body respond—a minute flinch, a catch in her breathing. “Is that what you want? Do you want me to hurt you? Would that make it easier for you to hate me? If I hurt you.”
“Is there a difference? Isn’t that what you’re already doing? Hurting me?” The words come out choked. “You kidnapped me and chained me to a bed. You’re keeping me prisoner. How is that not hurting me?”
She’s right. She’s absolutely right.
I could acknowledge that, but given the circumstances, it feels impossible to do so.
“If hurting you keeps you alive, then so be it,” I say instead. “I guess that’s what I’m doing. Even if you don’t understand it.”
“I don’t want to be alive if I have to live like this.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “If it means being your captive. Not if it means—”
She doesn’t finish the sentence, but she doesn’t have to either. I already know what she’s thinking, what she was going to say. I can see it on her face—the fear of what I might do to her. What she thinks I want from her.
If she only knew how fucked up I really am. How far gone I am for her.
I want it all. All of her. Everything.
My obsession with her festered like cancer after that night in the truck.
It was like the kiss we shared unlocked some dark, hidden need inside me.
But wanting and taking are different things, and I’ve spent a year trying to kill this desire.
Trying to convince myself she was just a kid with a crush, nothing special, nothing that should matter.
If it’s not obvious, I failed.
“I’ve already told you that I won’t hurt you,” I tell her, the words coming out harshly. “Not like you’re thinking.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
Good question. And one I unfortunately don’t have an answer to.
Her pulse flutters in her throat. I can feel it where our bodies press together. She’s terrified. Of me. Of this. Of what comes next.
It’s terrible, but her fear is intoxicating.
I don’t blame her, not even a little. She’s smart to be scared.
“I thought giving you the chance to move your arms around would make you happier, but you mistook my kindness. Now I’m contemplating dragging you back to the cabin,” I tell her, my voice low. “And chaining you back to the bed to make sure you never get the chance to run again.”
“Then do it.” She glares up at me, defiant even through her tears. “Do it if that’s what you’re going to do. But stop, stop doing this. Stop confusing me. Stop making me think maybe you’re not—”
“Not what?” I lean in closer, my face inches from hers. “A monster? A killer?” I suck a ragged breath into my lungs. Her sweet scent still lingers on her skin, and I want more of it. I’m already addicted to her. “Lying to you doesn’t change the truth. I’m all those things and more.”
“Then act like it!” Her voice cracks. “Stop being gentle. Stop bandaging my wrist and making me food and—and looking at me like—”
Her voice cuts off then, her gaze going wide as if she realizes a little too late that she’s revealed too much.
“Like what?” I press, needing to hear her say it.
Turning her head away, she refuses to answer me. That’s fine, because what she doesn’t say with her words, her body gives away with her reaction. The color rising in her cheeks, the way her breathing has changed. She’s afraid, but she’s also turned on, and that makes my blood run hot.
“Look at me.” Saint’s stubborn as hell, so of course she doesn’t listen. After a moment, I’m forced to release one of her wrists, so I can cup her jaw and turn her face back to mine. “You’re too stubborn for your own good. I said, look at me,” I growl through my teeth.
The air in my chest evaporates when her blue eyes collide with mine. Tears glimmer in her wide gaze, in equal parts terror and need. She was trying to hide her want, trying to swallow it down before I could see it for what it really is.
Yes, she is afraid of me, afraid of what’s happening, but there’s more. She wants me, all while being disgusted by it.
“You don’t have to be ashamed. I know you feel it too,” I say, and watch her face confirming what I already knew.
“This magnetic pull. It never disappeared, did it? Your desire for me. Not even after I tried to scare you away. Even when faced with fear, you couldn’t extinguish the need.
” The way my heart soars inside my chest should be against the law.
“All this time you’ve wanted me too. Craved me like your next heartbeat. ”
“Don’t—” she whispers, trying to turn away, but there’s nowhere to escape and my grasp on her is firm. I won’t let her hide from this.
“I did it to protect you. Because the second I touched you, really touched you, I knew you’d be mine.
I knew I’d never be able to let you go.” My thumb brushes across her cheekbone, catching a tear like it belongs to me.
She doesn’t understand that there was never a choice to be made.
From the moment our lives collided, she became the one thing I refused to give up, the one thing I couldn’t let go.
My gaze locks back on hers. “And I was right.”
“You’re insane,” she whispers, though the tremor in her voice betrays her. There’s no conviction behind it, only fear tangled with something she’s even more scared to name.
“Maybe.” I drag my free hand down her side, over the dip of her waist, the curve of her hip.
She’s in my shirt, my shirt, and nothing beneath it except those simple cotton panties I spotted when I changed her.
The memory tightens something low and vicious inside me.
“Or maybe I’m just not going to pretend. ”
Her eyes widen. “Pretend?”
“That I don’t want you.” My voice roughens, dragged from the place I keep locked. “That I haven’t wanted you since the moment you climbed into my lap and offered yourself to me like you had the faintest clue what you were doing. Like you didn’t know you were lighting a fuse I can’t put out.”
Her breath stutters. “I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“You knew enough.” My hand slides lower, fingertips grazing the bare skin of her thigh. She trembles beneath my touch, her body betraying her.
I shouldn’t do this. I know I shouldn’t. But I don’t have the power to stop myself. I’ve tried, God knows I’ve tried, and all it’s done is turn me into a liar.
She’s already mine, and touching her is the only truth left.
I lean in, my lips nearly brushing hers. “You wanted me then, and I fucking bet you want me more now.”
“I don’t—” The protest dies when my thumb traces the edge of her panties. “Stop.”
“Stop?” I sneer low, cruel. “Your mouth says stop, but your pussy’s begging for me to touch it. You can’t hide from me, Saint. I’ve already seen the truth you’re too afraid to admit.”
Her body trembles, thighs clamping together like she can hold the ache at bay. It only makes me harder. “I hate you,” she whispers, weak and breaking.
“I know.” My voice is rough, claiming. My fingers stroke higher, teasing the damp cotton. Mine. “Hate me all you want—it won’t change what’s happening.”
“Nothing’s happening—”
Her words break into a gasp when I grind my palm against her, deliberately and slowly, hovering just shy of what she needs.
“Liar,” I murmur. “Your body’s honest even when your mouth isn’t.”
“Please—” she pants, lashes wet, cheeks blazing.
“Please, what?” I press harder, dragging over the soaked fabric.
Her hips twitch up, a helpless little lift that betrays her.
My cock throbs at the sight. “You don’t even know what you’re begging for, do you?
Stop? Don’t stop? Or are you just too fucking scared to admit you want my fingers inside this tight little cunt? ”
“I don’t want you!” she gasps, but her body arches into my hand, desperate for more.
“You do.” My thumb circles her clit through the fabric until she jerks, unable to stop herself.
“You want me so fucking bad you can’t breathe.
The difference between us is that you’re ashamed of it, ashamed of what it means to give in to that want.
But I’m not, and your body’s already mine.
It’s begging me to claim it.” Her thighs squeeze around my wrist in a last act of defiance.
I shove harder, prying her open, making her yield.
“You’re a virgin, no doubt,” I growl, not asking.
“Kept yourself pure, saved for your future husband—a good, gentle man who’d touch you softly, whisper sweet words, and never mark you.
” My fingers drag lower, slicking over her clit until she gasps.
“Unfortunately, that’s not the type of man I am. I’ll mark you, claim you, ruin you.”
“We can’t,” she sobs, trembling. “It’s a sin…”
I lean in, lips grazing her ear, voice rough and merciless. “Then let me be your sin.”
Before she can protest again, I slip beneath the elastic and find her slick heat. Her body jolts, a ragged gasp tearing from her throat.
“Fuck,” I groan, my fingers sliding through her soaked folds. “You’re dripping for me. All this while you were crying about how much you hate me—your pussy’s telling me the truth. Doesn’t feel like hate, Saint. Feels like you’re desperate for me.”
“You’re wrong. I hate you,” she gasps, but her hips roll helplessly, grinding against my hand for more.
I laugh low, dark. “Hate me all you want. You can fight me with your mouth, but not with your body. Right now it’s mine—wet, aching, begging for me to touch it.
” My thumb circles her clit, rough and steady, while two fingers press lower, stroking her entrance.
“You’re gonna come on my hand whether you admit you want it or not. ”
Her whimper breaks, caught between denial and need.
“That’s it,” I murmur, working her harder now, forcing the sounds from her throat. “Every gasp, every shiver—you hear that? That’s you giving yourself away. Don’t fight it, Saint. Don’t fight me. Just let go.”
“I can’t—” she sobs, trembling.
“You can, you will.” My voice is a rough command in her ear as my thumb grinds mercilessly over her clit.
My teeth catch her bottom lip, biting down until she cries out, the sound muffled against my mouth.
I don’t kiss her—I claim her, sharp and cruel.
“Give it to me. Come for me. Scream my name when you break.”
“It’s wrong—it’s—oh God.”
“No.” My words are a growl, sharp and final. I bite her lip again, harder this time, dragging another cry from her throat. “Not God. Calder. Say my name when you come.”
“I can’t—I won’t—”
“You will,” I snarl, grinding into her, my fingers merciless. “You’ll come when I tell you to. For me, Saint. Only for me.”
Like a bomb, she explodes. Her body arches, breaking against my hand as her orgasm rips through her. My name bursts from her lips, raw and desperate, while her pussy clenches tight around my fingers, soaking me.
I don’t let up—I keep working her, grinding her clit, forcing her through every spasm until she’s sobbing and gasping in my grip, undone and trembling.
Whatever fight was left in her is gone now.
Only when she’s shaking so hard she can’t breathe do I finally ease back, my fingers slick and glistening with her release.
Her beautiful face is streaked with tears, shame etched into every line.
I hold my fingers up, slick with her release, gleaming in the dim light.
“You can try to hide. You can try to lie. But the truth is right here, Saint.” I rub my fingers together, my mouth watering with the need to taste her release.
“No matter how much you deny me, no matter how hard you try to escape it—I’ll prove it to you again and again.
Prove who you belong to. Until there’s no doubt left in that pretty head of yours. ”
This might be a terrible situation, but I’m not letting either of us lie about the way we feel for each other. Not anymore. We’re in this together, even if it means we both die.