Chapter 13 #2
Arthur’s gaze flicked once, clinical and assessing, and then his hand slipped into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
April had braced for… what, exactly? A lecture? A restraining order? A calculator?
Instead, Arthur produced a foil packet and a small travel bottle and tossed them, neat and accurate, straight at Caleb’s chest.
Caleb caught them on instinct. He looked down, then back up, his America’s Bachelor charm stalled in pure shock.
“Condom” Arthur nodded at the bottle. “Lube.”
April’s brain short-circuited. “You brought—”
“Supplies,” he said, like it was the most reasonable thing in the world to walk into a library and conduct a safety briefing.
His eyes met April’s. “You can say stop at any time.”
April couldn’t tell if this was permission or control.
Then his gaze shifted to Caleb.
“And if she says stop, you will stop.”
His hand moved to the door, the lock clicked into place. Nothing would interrupt unless he allowed it.
Caleb's throat bobbed. "Yes."
Arthur returned his attention to April, his expression unreadable but his authority absolute.
"Continue."
Her Heartland filter came up empty. There was no episode where the stern rancher walked in on the romantic lead with his hand up the innocent schoolteacher’s dress and said continue like he was giving notes on a rehearsal.
This had left rom-com territory entirely and entered a genre April didn’t have a reference for; possibly because it didn’t air on networks with Standards and Practices departments.
Then he stepped back until his shoulders met the bookshelf on the opposite wall.
He didn’t leave.
He settled in.
Like he was staying.
April’s pulse kicked into a rhythm that had nothing to do with panic and everything to do with the fact that Arthur—order, control, the man who’d straightened her wrap and pressed his thumb to her lip like she was a problem that needed solving—was watching.
Caleb’s breath was warm against her ear. “Your call,” he murmured.
April realized he was waiting.
They both were.
Do I want this?
Yes.
The answer came fast, certain, thrumming through her with the same clarity she'd felt all day.
April stepped back into Caleb.
His hands tightened on her waist. A low sound escaped him. Tension radiated through the layers of his suit like restraint had been expensive and he'd just decided to stop paying for it.
“Good girl,” Caleb's mouth was against her ear, exhale ragged enough to make her skin prickle.
Then his mouth was on hers again, and his hands were everywhere, and April stopped thinking about what this meant and started cataloging sensations instead.
The silk of her dress sliding against her skin.
Caleb's mouth traced a line down her throat, careful around the necklace Killian had sent. He didn’t touch it, like he understood it wasn’t his.
He kissed above it, below it, working around the claim like he was respecting territory that wasn't his to mark.
And Arthur. Watching from across the room. She could feel the weight of his gaze like a physical thing.
The silk bunched fast, gathered at her waist with efficiency that came from knowing someone was watching. Caleb’s hands gripped her thighs again, harder now, fingers pressing in deep enough that she’d find the evidence later.
Arthur stood motionless against the bookshelf, watching like this was exactly what he'd come here to see.
Caleb pulled her leg up, positioning her: one foot still on the ground, the other wrapping around his waist. April's hand shot up instinctively, grabbing the shelf above her head for balance. Her other arm wrapped around Caleb's shoulders.
Perched. Exposed. Held in place by geometry, want, and Arthur's steady gaze from across the room.
Her thigh trembled with the effort of staying wrapped around him, cool air hitting her exposed core as Caleb's mouth found her throat, teeth scraping lightly before his tongue soothed the sting. His hand slid up her ribs, thumb brushing just under her breast through the silk.
"You have no idea how hard I am right now," he murmured against her skin. His hips pressed forward, letting her feel the hard line of him grinding against her thigh.
"Feel that? That's what you do to me."
April's fingers dug into his shoulders. Her head tilted back, hitting the shelf with a soft thud she barely felt.
His hand cupped her breast, thumb circling her nipple through the silk until it hardened.
"So fucking perfect. I want to rip this dress off you." His other hand gripped her hip, pulling her tighter against his erection. "Want to see all of you."
His mouth moved to her ear, voice dropping. "I'm going to make you come so hard you forget your own name. And he's going to watch every second of it."
His fingers hooked into the lace of her underwear, and April gasped.
"That's it," Caleb said, approval rough in his voice. " Look at you grinding on my hand. You want him to see how dirty you are." His eyes flicked toward Arthur, then back to her. "Let him hear you. He’s got the best seat in the house.”
April's eyes flew to Arthur.
He was still there. Still watching. Expression unreadable except for the faint tension in his jaw, the way his hands had curled into loose fists at his sides.
He wasn't stopping this.
He was anchoring it.
Caleb’s hand left her and the room went razor-still.
A soft crinkle of foil. The rasp of a wrapper torn open. The quiet click of a bottle cap. The slick slide of preparation.
April's body lit up with embarrassed, thrilled awareness.
Arthur heard everything.
Caleb’s breathing changed, faster, less controlled. She felt the tension in his shoulders under her hands, the urgency in the way his body pressed against hers.
His breath skimmed her throat. “Going to fuck you so good he’ll hear you from across the room.”.
Then the snap of latex—sharp and unmistakable. The last click of a lock.
Oh.
The curve wasn’t subtle. It bent like a question mark drawn freehand.
Caleb caught her looking. Grinned.
"Actor," he said, like that explained it. "I know how to use all my angles."
The wink also wasn't subtle. Neither was the implication.
April’s brain tried to file this under ridiculous and move on, except her body had already started doing math it wasn’t prepared to show its work on.
Then Caleb's hand was between them, slick with lube, and she felt him position himself.
The blunt pressure. The heat of him against her weeping slit.
His forehead pressed against hers, his breath coming in short bursts that matched her own.
“Look at me, April.”
April met his eyes.
And then he pushed inside.
The stretch was immediate, overwhelming—her body opening for him inch by inch, the fullness almost too much to bear.
April's head fell back against the bookshelf, a sound escaping her throat that was definitely not network-appropriate.
Across the room, Arthur shifted, a minute adjustment as his weight redistributed.
His focus sharpened on her hand gripping the shelf, knuckles white, like he was cataloging tolerances.
“Fuck”' Caleb breathed, and his whole body went rigid. His forehead dropped to her shoulder, his breathing ragged against her skin. “Oh fuck. You feel—" He didn't finish. Couldn't. Just stood there, buried inside her, shaking with the effort of not moving. Her body adjusting to the stretch.
“So tight,” he finally managed, his voice completely ruined. “God, April, you're so tight I can barely—' He pulled back slightly, then sank in again, deeper. 'Taking me so perfectly.'
He started to move, each thrust calculated for maximum impact.
His mouth found her ear. "Listen to that." The slick sound of their bodies meeting punctuated his words. "Absolutely soaking my cock. Such a good girl, taking it like this."
April's grip on the shelf tightened, her other hand fisting in his hair.
”There you go,” Caleb murmured, approval dark in his voice. “Hold on tight. I want you to feel every inch of me.” He shifted his angle, and April gasped.
A semicolon where you'd expect a period, technically irregular, devastatingly effective.
Wit the new position he was hitting something inside her that made her vision blur, made stars burst behind her eyelids, made every nerve ending in her body light up like a power grid coming back online.
A sound tore from her throat.
“There,” Caleb breathed, and the satisfaction in his voice was liquid heat. “Found it. That's your spot, isn't it?' He thrust again, precise, hitting that same place.
April's nails scraped against the wood shelf.
Her hips started moving on their own—rocking, grinding, meeting each of his thrusts with a desperation that would've embarrassed her if she'd had any brain cells left to spare for shame.
Her other hand fisted tighter in his hair, pulling hard enough that his head tilted back and he groaned.
"Fuck yes," he muttered, his eyes intent. "Look at you fucking yourself on my cock. Take what you need." His hips rolled, grinding against her clit with each stroke. “You're close. I can feel you getting tighter. Your pussy's squeezing me like you don't want to let go.”
April couldn’t answer. Could only feel—the fullness, the friction, the pressure building low in her belly. The damp sound of their bodies meeting in a library that probably cost more to furnish than she made in a year.
The heat of him inside her. The shelf pressing into her spine like the only honest thing in the room. Caleb’s ragged breathing in her ear, drowning out everything else.
Her toes curled. Every muscle pulled taut, winding tighter and tighter like a spring about to snap.
Her eyes opened.
And met Arthur’s.
The weight of that gaze sent another wave of desire through her.
Arthur wasn't looking away. Wasn't pretending this wasn't happening. He was watching her with an intensity that left her feeling exposed and protected at the same time.
Like her pleasure was something he intended to witness.
Caleb didn’t look at Arthur.
But he angled her so Arthur had a better view.
His pace increased. The rhythm turned rougher, less controlled. His hand gripped her hip hard enough to bruise, fingers digging in like he needed the anchor.
His mouth found her ear, breath coming in harsh pants. "You like him watching, don't you?" Caleb's voice was completely wrecked now, the smooth TV-star charm obliterated. " Like knowing he can see how dirty you are. How much you want this."
April whimpered. An embarrassing, needy sound that echoed off the leather-bound spines.
Caleb groaned. “God, that sound. Make it again. I want him to hear you fall apart.”
He shifted his angle, grinding deeper, and April’s whole body arched. Her head struck the shelf behind her.
"That's it. Let go for me. Let him see you come. Show him what a naughty thing you are." His hand slid between them, wedging into the tight space where their bodies joined. "Want to feel you squeeze me when you break."
His fingers found her clit, slick from her arousal, and pressed down in tight circles. The added sensation was too much.
April's orgasm was sudden, total, obliterating thought. Every muscle in her body locked, then released and surged toward the edge. Just movement. Just want. Her pussy clenched around Caleb's cock, pulsing, squeezing, trying to pull him deeper even though there was nowhere left to go.
A cry ripped from her throat, the kind that would get them kicked out of anywhere with standards.
“Fuck, yes,” Caleb groaned, his hips stuttering. “Just like that. Keep coming. I can feel you—so tight—fuck—"
Through it all, she held Arthur's gaze.
He watched her come apart.
His jaw was tight.
His hands braced on his thighs.
Restrained. Deliberately.
His mouth curved. She clenched harder.
“I'm—" Caleb's voice broke. His rhythm shattered completely, turning desperate and uncoordinated. “April, I'm—"
He thrust deep one last time and went rigid, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as he came with a groan that sounded like it had been dragged from somewhere deep in his chest. She felt him pulsing inside her, felt the way his whole body shuddered with it, felt his fingers dig into her hip hard enough to leave marks.
Caleb withdrew. The drag of him leaving her body pulled a gasp from her. He steadied her when her lifted leg wavered. Her foot found the floor. Her palm slid off the shelf, skin tender from polished wood.
The emerald silk slipped back down her thighs in a soft whisper.
She didn’t move.
Not yet.