Chapter 20 #2
On the cliff today, Caleb said that we only get to do life once. I’ve had two chances to change my mind about him. And looking at the stern line of his lips, the white-knuckled grip of his hand against the metal railing, I won’t get a third.
I look down at the hair tie on my wrist. At the sore spot beneath that’s been snapped so many times the skin’s red.
I have two choices here. I can either turn around and go back to my quickly crumbling life: my closed-off existence of musts and must-nots, or I can finish what I came here for.
So, in what’s quickly becoming a habit of mine, I do the opposite of responsible.
I reach back behind me and pull the door closed.
“Why?” I ask slowly, not breaking eye contact as I take the last few steps towards him. Caleb’s body is rigid and still, like he’s waiting to see if I’ll bite. I did this to him, I realize. Mr. Stone Heart poured his soul out to me, and I spat it out like seawater.
His lips form a hard line before he says to me, breathy and quiet, “Because I saw how important it was to you. And I wanted to make up for the pain I caused—for everything I handled so badly. Just once, I wanted to be the reason you were smiling.”
Everything in the room stops. The mechanical whirring of the engine. The beeping of the control panel behind us. All I can hear is the riotous pounding of my own blood.
I suck in a breath as Caleb takes a step towards me, backing me up to one of the silent metal engines behind us. He lied for me. He risked his job, the thing he cares about most, to help me.
Every firing synapse in my lizard brain tells me I should turn around and go.
That there’s still time to make the responsible choice—to go back to my room and ride out the next few days on this ship as if there’s not a volcano erupting inside me.
But just once, I want to let go of should.
To feel what I felt when I leapt off the stern into the water below.
When I held my breath to wait out a tiger shark.
Have I been responsible? Or have I just been avoiding the possibility of pain?
Where is the line between responsibility and rejection?
Where is the line between playing by the rules and hiding from your own life?
What if, for once in my life, I just said yes?
I grab Caleb’s hand and pull it to my face, where the calloused pad of his thumb lands along the line of my bottom lip. He shudders as he slowly drags it down. A lightning bolt of anticipation shivers through me.
“Are you sure?” he pulls his head back, eyes half-lidded with desire. But when I nod and grab hold of his sun-bleached curls, the animal in him lets loose.
He pushes against me, and I gasp as my shoulder blades press into the warm metal of the engine behind me.
We stay there for one heart-pounding moment before he crushes his lips to mine, enveloping me in his intoxicating sea-salt scent.
I run my arms up the granite muscles of chest and wrap them around his neck to pull him closer.
Because in that moment, I need Caleb. I need his mouth on mine, his hands on my back, the feeling of him already hard against me.
He groans, softly, and a shiver runs up my spine as he drags his fingers down my back towards the hem of my shirt.
Blood rushes down past the lines of my stomach and I wrap my leg around him, crushing his hips to mine.
“Fuck,” he breathes as he pulls his lips away, and I shift my mouth to kiss the soft space where his neck meets his lightly-freckled jaw.
His breath quickens and he grinds against me as my hands slide beneath his tucked shirt onto the warm skin beneath.
Two days ago, I never wanted to speak to Caleb again.
Hell, I wanted to throw him overboard. Now I feel as though I might combust if he even thinks of taking his hands off me.
Like if we keep going, I might not be able to stop.
Caleb’s hand climbs up the contours of my thigh and under the hem of my cotton shorts, brushing over my thong.
I want him to leave his hand there—to feel his fingers slide inside me and release me from the heat and desire raging through my body like a tropical storm.
But he keeps going, inching his palm beneath the band of my bra and rolling his fingers over my hard nipple.
I gasp, and something sets off in him—he crushes me to the warm metal behind us and circles his hand faster as his other fingers dig into my hip.
I drag my nails down the warm skin of his back and let him run his tongue down my earlobe as he whispers to me,
“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted you.”
My legs threaten to give out from under me.
I want more of him. Need more of him. I slip my fingers beneath the hem of his shirt and yank it upwards, wanting to feel the heat of his skin as soon as humanly possible.
But he bars my arm, gently pulling it down and remaining, beyond tragically, fully clothed.
I take in a desperate breath as he pulls away, his eyes hazy with desire.
“We’ve got to stop,” he says breathlessly, and I feel my stomach drop like a stone.
“Oh,” the sound comes out strangled and weak. I feel humiliation rising through my body like the line of a thermometer, turning my cheeks a pulsing red. Did I do something wrong?
“I’m… sorry—”
“No!” he protests, grabbing my shoulders softly and pulling me back to him. I let out a relieved sigh as I sink into the radiant warmth of his chest. “If you take that kiss back, Stella Olsen, I will lose my goddamned mind. I mean we can’t do this here.”
I look around at the empty engine room. He’s right. It’s not that late yet. Any of the crew could walk in on us at any moment.
Caleb leans his mouth down to kiss the top of my ear.
“Do you trust me?”
“That sounds like something boys ask before they do something really stupid.”
He raises his eyebrows at me, silently repeating the question. I swallow.
“I trust you, Caleb.”
And with that confirmation, he grabs my hand and leads me out into the dark.
My heart pounds with adrenaline as Caleb sneaks me through the galley and down to the crew quarters.
This was definitely not covered in the Vela Bianca’s instructional video, but I’m pretty sure it falls under the category of immediate ejection.
You can still turn back, rational Stella reminds me. But I’m too far gone to listen to her.
Once we’re downstairs, Caleb pulls me into one of five identical white doors around the crew lounge and flicks the lights on.
His cabin is much smaller than mine—barely large enough for a queen-sized bed and small closet, and it strikes me how cold and impersonal it feels compared to the lavish stateroom I sleep in.
But there, on the wall, is a photograph of Caleb with someone who looks like it might be his brother.
A framed picture of a sailboat. A birthday card from a small child.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” he says nervously.
For a second, I stay glued to the wall, unsure what the protocol is when a six-foot-tall demi-god has led you to his quarters.
Caleb just stares at me, the gaze from his penetrating blue eyes cutting through the layers of me better than any blade ever could.
There’s something about being near Caleb that makes me feel untethered—breathless—out of control.
There’s something about him that makes me feel free.
And I want more.
I step towards Caleb, compelled as if by gravity, until I’m close enough to touch him.
He doesn’t move as I grab hold of his shirt sleeves, but I can hear his breath hitch when I draw him towards me.
I can already feel the heat coming off his body through the thin fabric, the rhythm of the blood pulsing beneath his skin.
When I lift my mouth to Caleb’s this time, it is slow.
Deliberate. Our noses touch before our lips do, and when he tilts himself towards me, his eyes fall almost closed.
I shudder with the nearness of him. The feeling of his mouth pressing against mine.
I can taste him, the tinge of salt still traced across his bottom lip, that makes me want to bite it.
As soon as I do, I know I’m done for. I watch through half-closed eyes as something ignites in him, his muscles tensing beneath my hands.
“Stella,” his whisper comes hot in my ear. “I want you so fucking badly.”
I feel another overpowering surge of desire and I smile against his lips.
“Prove it.”
Caleb grabs me and pulls me upwards, hiking my thighs over his hips like I’m no heavier than a life vest. I rake my nails across his back, lifting his shirt and begging him to press me onto the bed.
Instead, he turns me around and gently lowers my shoulders to the mattress so that I’m bent over the edge.
I feel his strong hands stroke the length of my ribs and waist before he hooks them into the waistband of my shorts and thong and pulls them both down, ever so slowly, over my thighs.
I want him, need him to go faster. But Caleb takes his time, slowly kissing the inside of my leg from my ankle up to my thigh.
I shudder as his lips graze across my clit and he moans into my skin, the vibration of his deep voice on my bare skin leaving me shaking with want.
He grabs hold of my thighs firmly as he uses his tongue in quick strokes to turn me into a useless puddle of girl, running his mouth over me until I’m gasping so loud I’m afraid I might wake the whole ship.
I have to dig my face into the comforter to avoid screaming.
But he plays me like a violin, drawing back slowly until I moan for more, then flicking his tongue over my clit with such accuracy, I feel like he’s almost inside my head.
I grip the comforter as waves of pleasure pulse through me, but just as Caleb is about to put me over the edge, he stops, standing up to grab me by the hips and flip me onto my back.