Chapter 4 Caleb
CALEB
Thank God I have a concrete pour today. It’s the only thing that can almost keep my mind off Eliza. You gotta be careful when you work with this stuff. Not only can someone get hurt, but you can botch the whole thing and end up out on your ass and looking for a new job.
I’m normally calm at work, but today I’m antsy. I’m slamming tools, barking at my co-workers. I just want to get this finished so I can get the hell out of here. It’s hard enough to do this work when you’re thinking about your step-sister and fighting half a hard-on.
Benjy, one of the oldest guys on the crew, comes over to me, and I can already tell by the look in his eyes what he’s gonna say. “So I heard you knocked out Tony last night.” Yeah, talk spreads fast in a small town.
“Shit happens,” I reply, pulling my rake across the pour.
“Yeah, well they say Tony’s running his mouth. I’d watch out if I were you.”
“Thank, Benjy.” He walks back to his position, leaving me to stew in the anger that’s been surrounding me all day. Just keeping my hands off Eliza last night was hard enough. Now I’ve got to deal with this shit?
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Cursing, I wipe my hand on my jeans and pull it out. “Hey, Daniel. I’m at work—”
“The cops came by the house,” he says, his voice sharp as he cuts me off. “You want to tell me why that is? Something about a fight?”
Sighing, I bite my lower lip. I can just my step-dad back at the house now, pissed off because his only son has got himself in trouble yet again.
“A guy downtown tried to assault Eliza,” I tell him. “So I laid him out.”
There’s a long pause. Clearly this wasn’t the answer he was expecting, but I’m sure he’s still pissed. “You laid him out?”
“That’s right.”
“You couldn’t have just…talked to him?” he asks. “Maybe settled it in a non-violent fashion?”
I can’t help but laugh. “Listen, Daniel, if you’d have been there, you’d know that despite what he’s probably told the cops, I went easy on him.” The foreman waves at me from across the site. It’s time to get back to work. “I gotta go. We can talk about this later.”
Without waiting, I hang up and stuff my phone back in my pocket and get back to work. I do my best to just focus on the job at hand, but it’s like trying to push a round boulder up a mountain. My mind just keeps slipping back to her dress, her legs, the neckline that barely held her cleavage…
But most of all, I just can’t stop thinking of those words she spoke and the way she looked when she spoke them.
“You left.”
Just replaying the moment in my mind crushes me. I thought leaving was the right thing. Distance was supposed to protect her—protect her from me.
I can see her now, clear as day, prancing down the street in that dress and those heels—all those men’s eyes feasting upon her beauty. I wanted to break all their faces, and they didn’t even touch her.
I tried staying away, but I can’t. Not anymore. Someone has to look out for her. And that someone has to be me.
I manage to finish the pour with the crew, and we get let off early. Immediately, I drive back to the house—our house—not even bothering to go back to my apartment to shower. I’m just checking in on her. It’s my duty as her step-brother to see how she’s doing. To make sure she’s safe.
There’s only one car outside when I pull into the driveway. Hers. Mom’s probably out having coffee with friends, and Daniel is probably checking out a new car to restore.
The house is quiet when I enter, but Eliza’s scent immediately hits me, nearly knocking me to my knees. I wasn’t expecting to be alone with her, but it’s too late to turn back. I just have to make sure she’s safe—that Tony or one of his bastard friends hasn’t come to hassle her—and then I’m gone.
“Eliza,” I call out, but there’s no response. I know where she is. Up in her room drawing like she always is. So I take the stairs, my heart pounding against my ribs as I reach her door. It’s slightly cracked, and I peer through to see her sitting on the floor with her back to me.
She’s wearing tiny shorts that barely cover anything, and is bent over a large sheet of paper in a downward-dog style pose, showing off every inch of her glorious ass to me. My cock instantly swells, and I bite my cheek hard in a failed attempt to calm it down.
Her oversized T-shirt slips off one shoulder. No bra. The light from the window traces every curve of her waist and hips.
Just go. You see she’s safe, so just go. Get out of here and go back to your apartment.
There’s no excuse for what I’m doing now. I’m not like one of those men at the club. I don’t want to hurt her. I want to protect her. More than that.
I want to make her life special. Show her just how special she is, because lord knows she has no idea.
Not yet. She doesn’t even understand how great of an artist she is.
Her work should be in galleries. People should be buying prints from her.
But she hides it away here, in her room, for no one else to see.
I turn to go, but my legs don’t listen. I can’t. I’m starting to lose control. “Eliza,” I say, but she doesn’t hear me. I raise my voice. “Eliza!”
Startled, she nearly jumps out of her skin as she scrambles to turn around. When she sees me, the fear falls from her eyes but is replaced by something different. Anger? Or relief?
“What were you doing?” she asks, sounding annoyed. “Spying on me?”
“It’s my house too, you know,” I counter, stepping into her room.
“Is it? Because as far as I know, you got yourself a new place to live.” Her words sting. She’s right; I did. But I’ve never been told that I don’t live here any longer—that this isn’t my house. “Why are you even here?”
She stands, and my eyes follow her hips as she moves across her room.
They sway with such feminine energy that I can’t help but lick my lips.
Her thighs, completely exposed in those shorts, have me hypnotized.
What would it be like to taste her? To drag my tongue up those thighs and make her cry my name?
Snapping out of it, I avert my eyes and act like I’m checking out the molding on her door for any flaws. “I came to check on you. Make sure you were okay from last night.”
“Oh, is that right?” she scoffs, going back to her drawing. I thought that maybe now that she knew I was here, she’d take a more modest pose—maybe sit cross-legged or put some pajama bottoms on. But nope. She just bends right over that big drawing again, arching her back at me.
Only a tiny piece of soft fabric covers the slit between her legs, sending my imagination spiraling. I swallow hard as my heartrate increases. I flex my hands by my sides, desperate to get a grip on her. To explore every inch of her curvaceous perfection.
“And to remind you that you’re not going out with Mara again,” I add, jealousy flaring in me as I remember all those men with their eyes on her. My jaw clenches tightly at the thought of another incident like the one with Tony. I should have buried that prick six feet under.
Without turning to me, Eliza replies, “Oh, really? So you think you can move out, be gone for a year, and then come back and tell me what to do?”
My gut knots, and I stride deeper into the room, circling around so I stand towering over her.
Still, she won’t look at me. Reaching down, I grab her by the arm and lift her easily to her feet.
She gasps as I press her up against her desk, sending pencils and pens scattering to the floor.
“Oh, I don’t?” I ask, my voice tense. “Watch me.”
She opens her mouth to reply, but no words come.
When she jerks against my grip, it’s almost like she’s not even trying.
Shaking my head, I stare deeply into her innocent eyes.
My sweet step-sister—the one girl who is completely off limits—and here I am, holding her close with my cock aching beneath my filthy jeans.
The moment drags on with neither of us speaking. Every instinct I have is responding to her beauty, her warmth. I fight it as long as I can, but finally, I’m unable to hold out any longer.
I reach out with a single dirty finger and brush a strand of hair from her face. A tiny breath escapes her lips, and spellbound, I trace the line of her jaw down to her neck, then to the soft skin of her chest, exposed by her neckline.
This is so wrong…if our parents found out—
But why do I even care? We’re not blood, and I’m done pretending. This is my life, and I should run it the way I want. I already tried leaving, but that didn’t work. Here I am again, right back where I started, drinking in the beauty of the most perfect woman on the planet.
Something shifts in her eyes, and she finally speaks. “Just say it. You were jealous of those men last night.”
Her boldness sets me back. At the same time, it lights a fire in me—a fire I’ve been fighting to suppress.
Just turn back…don’t say any more…
I know the right thing to do here. But the feel of her smooth skin against my rough, callused finger is too much to handle. The way the fabric of her T-shirt drapes from her ample breasts just reinforces how much of a woman she’s become.
And I can’t—I simply cannot keep my mouth shut.
“I don’t like other men looking at you.”
Her breath turns heavy. Her breasts lift. I notice. The look in her eyes softens, and her pupils dilate. A tiny gap forms between her lips, as though her body is subconsciously begging for a kiss…
I’m this close to losing control. We’re not blood-related. I tried staying away, but it didn’t work. Now it’s become clear. I’m the only man who can protect her. And the only man who ever will.
She takes a deep breath, and I feel her exhale against my lips. Her fingers curl into my shirt, and just like that, I lose control.
“Caleb…” she whispers as I lean in. But just as I’m about to kiss her, my phone vibrates in my pocket, hammering against us both like a tiny earthquake that shatters the moment.
“Shit!” I hiss, snatching it from my pocket. It’s a text from Daniel:
Your mom and I were hoping you’d come by for a family dinner tonight. Y/N?
With a heavy sigh, I stuff the phone away and step back. Talk about a reality check. That text was like a splash of cold water straight to the face. I’m no longer standing in Eliza’s bedroom where all kinds of stuff could happen; I’m standing in the room of my little step-sister.
“I…I gotta go.” But before I do, I stride to her closet where the dress from last night is hanging. Flashes of her in it hammer my mind. I see her again, drawing looks from other men that aren’t me, then grab it and storm out, racing downstairs as fast as possible.
“Seriously!?” she calls after me. “You do that and then you’re just gonna bail? And steal my dress? It’s not even mine!”
“Don’t care,” I growl. “If you wear something like this, it’s only going to be for me.”
And with that, I slam the door behind me, leap into my truck, and drive off.
Fuck me, what have I just started?