18. Halle
CHAPTER 18
HALLE
I awake suddenly, heart pounding, drenched in sweat. Blinking, I take in my surroundings and breathe deeply, willing the dream to release me from its clutches. Instead, it clings to me like dirt after a long day spent working outside. Eyes closed, I inhale slowly, then exhale again, willing my pulse to steady.
The dream felt so real. Probably because it was more memory than a storyline created by my brain.
The man’s fingers had roved my skin despite my protests. My mom was still working at the time, one dead-end job or another, and the boys were just toddlers.
“Since your mom ain’t around, it’s up to you to make me feel good.”
I shudder at the memory and blow out a breath.
That night, I managed to knee him in the balls and lock myself and my brothers in my room. I don’t know how I did it, as scrawny and malnourished as I was, but I pushed my dresser in front of the door. It’s a good thing I did too because he tried his hardest to get through while screaming dirty profanities at me.
After a dream like that, there’s no chance I’ll get back to sleep, so I slip out of bed and pad to the bathroom.
With each step, I work to ground myself.
I’m in Hawthorne Mills, Massachusetts.
I’m in Caleb’s house.
My brothers are across the street with Cynthia and Thelma.
Everyone is safe.
After washing my hands, I twist my hair into a messy bun at my nape, then ease my bedroom door open and tiptoe to the stairs.
In the kitchen, I discover my stealthy movements were in vain. Caleb is awake as well, heating water on the stove.
“Hey.” I keep my tone soft so as not to startle him.
He turns around, hair mussed and shirtless. His sleep pants hang low enough to show off a tan line and the divots that lead below the band.
“Hey,” he echoes back, voice gruff. “Couldn’t sleep?”
I focus on his face, trying my best to ignore the gorgeous body he’s got on display. “Bad dream.”
He dips his chin. “Want to talk about it?”
“Nope. ”
With a ghost of a smile, he turns to the counter and the tea bag lying next to a single mug. It’s wild, how easily he accepts my responses. He makes it clear he’s available to listen, but he doesn’t push.
While he fiddles with the teakettle, I pilfer through his cabinets, searching for the yellow cake mix I bought a few weeks ago and the two accompanying containers of chocolate frosting. I was saving it for a rainy day, but after that dream, I could really use a big slice of cake.
Before I can even set them on the counter, Caleb has pulled out a bowl and is digging through the drawer for the beaters.
“Thank you,” I say when he sets them on the counter next to me.
He hums. “What temperature for the cake?”
“Um.” I squint at the back of the box. The light is dim, but I prefer it this way. Like it’s easier to keep my demons hidden. “Three-fifty.”
While he preheats the oven, I dump the mix into the bowl, then pull the eggs from the fridge and the oil from the cabinet.
The kettle whistles, the shrill sound causing me to wince, but he pulls it off the heat quickly, and the room falls silent again.
“Do you like tea?” he asks, filling a mug.
I frown as I stick the metal beaters into the mechanism. “I don’t think I’ve ever had hot tea.”
Without a word, he snags another mug from the cabinet and dunks a tea bag into it. While they steep, he pulls out a set of round cake pans and greases them for me, even adding flour so they don’t stick.
It’s strangely intimate, working in tandem with him.
Once the batter is ready, I pour it into the pans and slide both into the oven, then set a timer on my phone.
Caleb adds a dash of milk to each mug and sets them in front of the stools at the counter. Then he eyes me, silently signaling that I should sit.
Without anything else to keep me busy, I quietly settle beside him and wrap my fingers around the cup.
Almost immediately, the warmth that seeps into my palms soothes me.
“Tea, huh?”
“I’ve never been the best sleeper,” he admits. “My mom would always make a mug of tea for me when I couldn’t sleep.” He takes a careful sip. “Couldn’t stand this shit for the longest time, but now when I have trouble sleeping, it’s my go-to.”
“My mom would sing to me sometimes,” I say quietly, focus fixed on my ceramic mug. “When she was sober and holding down a job, she was…” I smile as some of my better memories flit through my mind. “Really great.”
“Tell me something else about her. Something good.”
“Once,” I say, the recollection coming to me instantly, “she picked me up early from school. She’d packed a whole lunch for us. Sandwiches and Cheetos—my favorite at the time—and brownies. We went to a nearby park and sat at a picnic table. We watched squirrels and just… talked.” My smile fades, and the ever-present ache in my chest pangs. “It was ni ce. Really nice.”
Caleb gives me a soft smile in return. “That sounds like a great day.”
With a sigh, I take a tentative sip of my tea. “This is pretty good,” I admit.
He lifts his mug to his lips. “Glad you like it.”
“What’s your deal? Is there a reason you have trouble sleeping?” I ask. Maybe the question is too personal, but I’d rather not sit in silence.
He sighs, the sound weary and unexpected from someone who’s generally so upbeat, and draws his index finger around the rim of his mug. “I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember. My mom always told me it’s because my mind never quiets. That I feel like I’m wasting my life away with sleep when there are things to be done.”
I wet my lips, savoring the flavor of the tea. “Do you agree with her?”
“She had a good point.” He rubs at his jaw where a light dusting of stubble is beginning to grow. “I think it’s worse now—with my job,” he adds. “I’m always thinking about how many people out there need help, wishing I could just work more hours. Knowing that if I could, I could do more good. Don’t get me wrong, I realize that there will always be people in need, and I know that if I don’t take breaks, I’ll burn out, but sometimes, especially at night, my brain forgets all that.”
I take another sip of the warm tea, surprised by how much I enjoy the herbal flavor. “So,” I prod, “when you can’t sleep, you get up and make tea, and then what?” I’m suddenly curious about what his life is like when he’s alone .
He shrugs. “I try not to work, figuring that since my mind is consumed with it, giving in would only make the sleep issue more difficult.”
“But sometimes you do?”
“Yeah,” he sighs, running long fingers through his already mussed blond hair. “But usually, I make tea and watch a movie, and eventually, I fall asleep on the couch.”
“Do you want to do that now?—”
Before he can respond, the timer on my phone goes off.
“Hold that thought.”
I pull a knife from the utensil drawer so I can ensure the cake is done, but Caleb slides a bottle of toothpicks my way.
“This will be easier.”
With a small smile, I pluck out a toothpick. Then I slide an oven mitt onto my left hand and pull the oven open. When I’ve confirmed they’re baked thoroughly, I set them out to cool.
“Do you really want to watch a movie?” Caleb asks, rinsing his empty cup out in the sink.
“I wouldn’t mind.” I finish my own tea and rinse mine as well.
He strides out of the dim kitchen, his gait languid, but in the middle of the living room, he turns and gestures for me to get settled first. Once I’m curled up in the corner spot of the sectional, he sits beside me, though he keeps a respectable distance.
Honestly, I find that bit of space rather annoying. He’s attracted to me, I know that, but then he does things like this that make me wonder if he actually wants me .
“Any requests?” he asks, scrolling through his movie app.
“Something lighthearted.” I’ll never go back to sleep if we watch something super heavy or scary.
He chooses a rom-com, and once he’s pressed Play, he slides the blanket from the back of the couch and spreads it so it covers both of us.
Within minutes, I’m stifling a yawn.
His responding chuckle rumbles through me. “Ready to fall asleep on me already?”
“My body is, but my brain isn’t.”
With a low hum, he nods and focuses on the screen.
Pulling the blanket up to my chin, I sink farther into the cushion. In doing so, I slip a few inches closer to him. I hold my breath, thinking he might scoot away, but he doesn’t. In fact, he doesn’t seem to notice at all.
Though I try my hardest to focus on the movie, it’s no use. About thirty minutes in, I give up and blurt out, “Why didn’t you kiss me tonight?”
He goes rigid and whips his head around so fast I wouldn’t be surprised if he has whiplash. “What?”
Fuck.
I don’t want to say it again.
“Why didn’t you kiss me tonight? After our date? If you…” I swallow down my pride. “If it wasn’t what you were hoping for… if you’ve realized you don’t like me like that … it’s okay. But please tell me. I won’t hold it against you, if that’s what you think.”
He shakes his head harshly, his hair falling over his forehead. “It’s none of that. I’m doing my best not to push you too far too fast. You come across as a skittish kitten most of the time, claws out and hissing, but behind that you’re a little unsure and scared. And that’s okay. I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to spend time with me out of obligation. I don’t want you to feel pressured into doing anything you’re not fully on board with. I want it to be your choice.”
I blink. Then blink again. It’s downright terrifying how quickly this man has seen through me. All of my carefully constructed walls, built brick by brick since I was a little girl, are nonexistent to him.
“So you’re… what? Waiting for me to make a move?”
He meets my eyes and holds my attention. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
Oh.
Somehow this man only gets more incredible.
“And if I kiss you right now, what will you do about it?” I challenge.
A lazy smile graces his lips. “Kiss you back.”
Fuck .
Heart in my throat, I get up on my knees and toss my right leg over his body so I’m straddling him.
He doesn’t move, but his Adam’s apple bobs and his pupils blow out, and through his pajama pants and my thin cotton shorts, there’s no denying that he’s hard beneath me. With the willpower of a saint, he keeps his hands firmly at his sides.
I swish my hair over my shoulder, hands finding his cheeks. The rasp of his stubble against my palms sends electricity arcing through me. It’s quickly followed by apprehension, but I shove my nerves aside and ignore my sky-rocketing heartbeat. His breath catches a millisecond before I press my lips to his. I don’t know if it’s because it’s been a while or what, but that little sound from him sends me hurtling nearer to an orgasm than seems possible.
The kiss is tentative at first, while I explore his mouth. His lips are soft and plush beneath mine, which shouldn’t come as a surprise. His mouth is just as perfect as the rest of him. I swear he’s too good to be true. I’d be convinced he was a robot created to say all the right things if it weren’t for the insistent press of his erection between us.
Caleb Thorne is human, after all.
“Caleb,” I whimper, wanting more than soft and sweet. “I thought you’d kiss me back.”
As if my words snap the tether he’d used to restrain himself, he grasps my ass, his fingers digging into the globes, and meets my kiss with an intense fervor.
Oh, God.
I’ve never been kissed like this before. With desire and passion and feeling .
No kiss I’ve ever experienced has come close, each one merely an exchange—an obligation, part of a routine that led to the better stuff.
He kisses me like I’m air and he needs my mouth in order to survive. I’m consumed by him.
He nips at my bottom lip and I gasp, opening for him, rocking against his straining erection as our tongues tangle and he grasps my hips and ass hard enough to bruise.
“Fuck,” he growls. “Halle. ”
My name in that low guttural tone melts my insides. God, I want to record it so I can play it on repeat.
Halle.
Halllle.
Haaalllleee.
Between one heartbeat and another, I’m on my back, a small squeak escaping me. With my feet planted on the cushions, I let my legs fall open, making room for Caleb. And like a puzzle piece slotting into place, he presses his body to mine. With a growl, he pins my hands above my head and covers my mouth with his. The growl turns into a low moan when I grind my hips up into him.
Please , I swallow back the word.
I want to beg him to strip me bare and fuck me senseless, but we’re not there yet. God, is this a tease—to feel him right there and force myself to resist going for more.
I wiggle my hands free, devouring his mouth.
Pulling back, he narrows his eyes on me. “Keep wiggling like that, and I’ll have to find something to tie you up with.”
My heart stutters to a stop, then pounds out a furious rhythm in my ears.
Oh my God.
Would it be wrong if I begged him for exactly that?
Probably.
Right?
Most definitely.
“I’ll be good,” I say instead, my voice a breathless whisper.
Eyes still locked on mine, he grins. “Or you could not and see what happens?”
Stick a fork in me. I am done .
Chuckling, he locks my wrists together again and brings his lips to mine, keeping me from responding.
Though I’m tempted to see how far we can take it, it’s clear already that when it comes to sex, kind, considerate Caleb turns into a beast. And I’m thrilled at the prospect of finding out.
“Listen to you,” he croons, kissing his way down my neck. “So worked up already. If I slid a hand into those tiny shorts, you’d be soaked, wouldn’t you?”
I whimper in response, the ability to speak fleeing me, along with all rational thought.
“I bet all I’d have to do is stroke your clit once and you’d go off.”
My core pulls tighter. I so would.
“Tell me, Halle”—he sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and lets it go with a pop—“do you want me to touch you? It’d be cruel to leave you so achy and needy, wouldn’t it?”
Head dropped back, I pant, “Touch me.”
How we went from our first kiss to this is beyond me, but I’m not mad about it. The two of us have been a spark just waiting to ignite. Now that the flames have been fanned, we’re going up in an inferno.
“Ask nicer.”
Ask … nicer?
“You want me to beg?” The words are breathless; I can’t seem to get enough air into my lungs.
“Hmm.” He strokes his nose along the curve of my neck.
Until this moment, I never knew the skin there could be so sensitive. But each brush of his nose or his lips sends shivers racing down my spine.
“Don’t tempt me,” he grits out. “I don’t know that I could resist if you begged me.”
“Please.” If I could touch him, I’d claw at his shoulders, scratching at his bare skin like a cat in heat. I’ve never felt like this before, so unhinged. My whole life, I’ve fought to remain in control. With Caleb, I feel safe to let go. “Please, touch me. I want you to.”
“Such a sweet, tempting offer.” He slips his free hand beneath my shirt, skimming across my belly and teasing at the waistband of my sleep shorts.
So close but so far away from where I want him.
“Caleb.” My voice is shaky, my heart thudding wildly. “For the love of God, touch me. If you don’t, I’ll have to go upstairs and take matters into my own hands.”
His eyes flash like he’s intrigued by the idea.
Pulse thrashing, I shake my head back and forth. “You won’t be allowed to watch.”
He leans over my body, and I whimper at the press of his weight against me—not because it hurts, but because it feels so damn good. Mouth at my ear, he nips the lobe, then whispers, “You might think you’re in control here, but you’re wrong.”
He releases his hold on my wrists, and then his weight disappears, taking all his body heat with it .
I scramble to sitting, every nerve ending lit up. “Where are you going?”
I’m all worked up, and he’s, what? Walking away?
He looks back at me over his shoulder, his blue eyes lit like flames. “Teaching you some manners. Night, Halle.” Halfway up the stairs, he peeks over the railing. “Don’t even think about touching yourself. I’ll know.”
Jaw unhinged, I sputter, unable to string a coherent thought together. My thoughts are nothing but a tangled knot I can’t even begin to pick apart.
For several minutes, I don’t move, certain he’ll come back. He doesn’t.
Eventually I gather my wits and head back into the kitchen. I wash my hands, ignoring the aching between my legs, and frost the now very cooled cake.
When that’s finished, I turn the TV off, head upstairs, and fall into bed.
What the fuck was that?
Caleb Thorne is not at all what I expected.