Deliver Us (The Sinful Duet Book 2)

by Skyla Madi

  Nick leaps off the couch and bounces into the kitchen, high off his win. I tap my fingers against my sweatpants-clad thighs, swallowing my competitiveness. I didn’t think I’d mind losing to Nick and his stupid game since it’s my first time playing, but I hate it. I hate losing to him, and if I have to play another round and bond over shit I don’t care about, I’m going to lose my damn mind.

  What’s the time, anyway? I’ve been here for forty minutes. I dig into my pocket for my phone and check the clock. Nick said Cassia finishes work at five-thirty. It’s fifteen minutes to seven. Where the hell is she?

  It’s not a coincidence I bumped into Nick in the hall. I timed it perfectly. And here we are.

  He reenters the room, clutching two beers in his hand. He passes me one, and my leg bounces as I fight the urge to pry into her whereabouts. How can he sit around so comfortably when Cassia is out there somewhere? Not to mention she works at that freaking bar a few blocks over, which is, unfortunately, perfectly legal now she’s twenty-one, and he lets her walk home. What’s he doing that’s so important he can’t go and pick her up? Or at least walk with her?

  “Should you call her?” I ask as he lowers himself into the worn armchair across from where I sit on the poufy couch. “I mean, it’s dark out.”

  He shrugs his large shoulders. “She’ll be all right. Probably come through that door any second now.” I narrow my eyes at him. “I thought you said you were the best at this game?” he adds onto the end, changing the subject.

  “Did I?”

  “Yeah. You did.”

  I lift my shoulder. “It’s been a while.”

  I don’t play video games. The only reason I’m here is because Nick is easier to get to than Cassia. Since she goes out of her way to avoid me, I make myself known to Nick instead. If I can’t get to her myself, then I’ll go through him. He’ll continue to invite me into his house under the pretense of friendship and, when he’s not looking, I’ll steal my girl out from under him.

  Picking up his controller, he dusts off his brown tee and clicks through the menus until we’re back on the character select screen. How many times does he want to play this game? Sighing, I take a large mouthful of my drink and place it at my feet. Then I grab my controller and pause as the sound of keys jingling in the hall outside reaches my ears. I flick my attention from the TV to the door, and my heart kicks up in its pace, my palms growing sweaty. The lock shifts, the handle drags down, and the door opens. A slender, black thigh-high boot slips through first, exposing a few inches of tan thigh. Oxygen leaves my lungs, my blood surges in my veins, and I’m frozen in my seat. She steps inside, and I suck air between my teeth. A tight, gray knitted dress clings to her beautiful curves and covers every inch of her torso, including her arms, and the fabric thickens around her neck. Cassia clutches the strap of her black handbag in her hand, a thick, black coat draped over the same arm.

  “Sorry I’m late. I had to—oh.”

  Her hair is wavy and bright, curling around her generous bust, her face lightly painted with makeup, her pouty, glossed lips slaying me instantly. I lift my gaze to her fierce glare and smile. I’m in so much trouble. I chance a glance in Nick’s direction, but he’s not paying attention to either of us, too involved in his stupid game to notice the vision that just walked through the door and how she consumes me completely.

  “I invited Caleb over to game out,” Nick says, placing his beer and controller on the side table. He pushes himself out of his armchair and walks over to her. “He sucks at it.”

  Cassia’s manicured brows furrow further, and my entire body coils with rage as he leans in for a kiss. I clench my jaw, my stare falling to the pink flush that swirls in her cheeks. She turns her head at the last minute, his kiss landing on her cheek, before he pulls her into a hug, burying his face in her long blonde and pink hair. I look away, pulling my beer to my lips. That should be me. Seeing her with him hurts more than any razor I’ve ever sliced through my flesh.

  Nick pulls away from Cassia, and she drags her attention from me to him. “I grabbed dinner. Hope you’re in the mood for Chinese.”

  “I’ve already eaten.” He peers over his shoulder at me, and I fight every cell in my being to keep my expression neutral. “What about you, Cale?”

  Cale? That better stop right fucking now. Cassia minutely shakes her head, urging me to decline. Lucky for her, I have a Skype call at seven-thirty with Penelope. I wish I didn’t. I’d love nothing more than to torment Cassia over dinner a little more, like the good old days, but I haven’t spoken to Penelope in a few days. I need to check in and make sure everything is going smoothly between her and Dad. He’s making progress, but he’s been standoffish and quiet since she showed up.

  “Can’t, sorry.”

  Cassia’s shoulders relax. I relish in the fact she doesn’t want Nick and me in the same room. She’s afraid I’ll let the cat out of the bag and tell him we’re together, that we’re not the strangers he thinks we are to each other.

  And we are together. Things have gotten a little complicated, but she’s still mine.

  “Why? You got somewhere to be.”

  I nod, sipping my beer. “Yeah.”

  He turns away from Cassia, brushing his hands down the front of his black sweatpants, and saunters back to his armchair. “You got time for another round before you go?”

  I shrug my shoulders. Any excuse to look at Cassia for a few more minutes. “Sure.”

  I grab my controller as Cassia curses under her breath and carries herself to the kitchen. I can’t take my eyes off her as she walks by—not that Nick the Dick notices—and when she catches me staring, she glares at me and points to the TV, but I’m too weak to drag my attention away. I’d rather look at her than whatever is on the screen.

  “Hold up. I’m gonna pause it and go to the bathroom first,” Nick announces, leaping out of his armchair. “Give me a sec.”

  Thank fucking God. He sets off down the hallway, his bare feet pattering against the varnished floor. When the door clicks shut, Cassia slaps her hands against the black, granite counter and storms toward me, her heels tapping the floor.

  “Get out, Caleb,” she demands in a harsh whisper, jabbing a finger toward the front door.

  I smile as I sit forward to place my beer on the glass coffee table, then I push myself to my feet and turn to her. “That’s no way to treat your guest, Cass.”

  She tightly folds her arms across her chest. “You’re not a guest. You’re a snake. I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.”

  “If you didn’t avoid me like the plague, I wouldn’t have to pretend to like Nick just to get closer to you.”

  Cassia whips her arm out again, points to the door with a stomp of her shoe. “Get. Out.”

  I flash her the palms of my hands. “Fine. I’m going.” I saunter to the door with Cassia hot on my heels. I grab the slim handle and pull it open, looking over my shoulder at her. “By the way, you look good.”

  She rolls her stunning, smoky eyes. “Don’t, Caleb.”

  I turn around and lean against the doorframe, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my sweatpants. “What, I can’t give you a compliment?”

  “No,” she says, nervously tapping a hand against her thigh as she glances down the hall. “You can’t give me a compliment because I know you. It’s never just a compliment.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes. It’s how you bait me into conversation with you.”

  I tilt my head. “Wh—”

  “You should know, I’m immune to your pretty words now.”

  I shift my weight onto my left leg and pin her with a glare. “You’re really gonna keep going with this charade, huh? Pretending we’re finished? That I don’t make your nipples hard every time I open my mouth? That you don’t lie awake at night thinking of me, like I think of you?”

  Her eyes widen a fraction, then narrow into angry slits, her lips thinning as she presses them together. I watch, patient
ly, as she slowly inhales through her nose and parts her lips to let it out. Her angry demeanor falls away, and it pisses me off. Why am I the only one struggling with this? Since when is she more composed than me?

  “Stay away from Nick,” she orders calmly. “He’s not your friend, and he never will be. If your purpose is to—”

  “I don’t care,” I snap, my voice booming through their apartment. “I don’t care about Nick or how hurt he’ll be when he finds out about us.”

  Gasping, she slams her hands on my chest and shoves me into the hall, closing the door behind us. “What is wrong with you?” she hisses. “There is no us.”

  I make a tight growling noise in my chest as my frustration peaks, bubbling like lava in my veins. I want to grab her tiny arms and shake her until she gets it, until she needs me as much as I need her. “Yes, there fucking is, Cassia!”

  She flinches, her big eyes filling with tears. “No, there isn’t.”

  I lean into her personal space, bending my body until my face aligns with hers. It’s not to intimidate her. I just want to make it clear that I see right through her. “If you’re so sure, why’d you introduce me as your new neighbor instead of your boyfriend?”

  “Ex-boyfriend.” She feels the need to clarify, like it makes any difference.

  I straighten, my lips quirking. “I disagree, but regardless, you claimed you didn’t know me. You had every chance to tell Nick the truth and you didn’t because you knew if he asked you if there was still anything between us, you’d feel guilty for lying.”

  Cassia’s flicks her stare between my eyes. What she’s looking for, I’m not sure. Eventually, she squares her shoulders, turns away from me, and grabs the door handle. Panic grips me at the thought of being thrust back into the silence of living without her. “My sister came back from the dead. I couldn’t just leave.”

  She whirls on her heel, anger blazing in her dark, ocean eyes. “You think I’m mad because you chose your sister over me?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  Cassia scoffs. “As if I’m that selfish, Caleb.”

  “Then what’s your problem?” I demand, throwing my hands up. I fucking give up trying to understand her. “Why do you hate me so much?”

  “You sent me a text message,” she bites out. As quickly as her anger comes, it disappears. My chest aches as I watch it morph into sadness, into pain and regret. “What we had wasn’t worth a phone call? I wasn’t worth a phone call?” Tears flood her eyes, and it’s a devastating punch to my stomach. I inch backward, grimacing away from her sad, beautiful face. “I thought everything we went through cemented our relationship, but it wasn’t cement at all. It was mud and gravel, and it cracked and broke apart the first chance it got.” She looks up to the light to prevent tears from dropping onto her cheeks and drags in a shaky inhale. Expelling it, she admits, “Maybe it’s stupid to you, and maybe you think I’m overreacting, but I can’t help how I feel.” She lowers her stare from the ceiling to me, and my heart pounds painfully in my ears. “I have cement with Nick.”

  Cement? She thinks she has cement with that bag of dicks inside? I laugh once, and she flinches at the sound. It comes from a bitter place mostly, but there’s a small hint of fear in it too. I hear it. It rings loud, like church bells, in my ears and I hope she doesn’t hear it too. I’m scared she’s speaking the truth, scared she means everything she’s saying.

  Cassia’s walls slide into place. She squares her shoulders, and a mask of indifference slips over her face. All her emotion is gone. “Goodnight, Caleb.”

  She turns away from me and opens her door. I step forward, my hand out.

  “Cass—” She slams the door in my face, and my fingers brush against the wood. “Fuck!” I drop my head against the wood with a heavy exhale. “I…” I clear the lump from my throat. “I didn’t mean to…to…”

  What didn’t I mean? What do I want to say?

  Words fail me, and in turn, I fail her.

  Chapter Three

  C A S S I A

  Thump. Thump.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  “Why?” I scream, throwing my hands up at my ceiling for the one millionth time tonight. I twist in my bed, rolling onto my side to look at my alarm clock. “It’s one in the goddamn morning!”

  I sit up and shuffle to my headboard and slam my fists against the wall, a wall I apparently share with Caleb. Of course he’d go out of his way to spite me after our argument eight days ago. I could see it in his face how bad I hurt him with the things I said. I meant most of it…except the part about Nick and me being cement. Nick thinks we’re cement, but I think we’re wet sand at best. Not that I’d tell Caleb that.

  I’m working hard on the relationship Nick and I have, like I promised him I would. He knows I’m still hung up on an ex-boyfriend—thanks to Fiona—but he’s trying to help me move on. It was working too, until that ex-boyfriend moved in next door, looking even better than I remembered.

  “Shut up!” I shout, slapping my palms against the wall.

  The bed—Caleb’s bed, I assume—slams harder into the plaster dividing us, my shouting going unheard. Exhaling, I slump and drop to the mattress. Why is this happening to me? I tug my heavy duvet up to my chin and pull my pillow over my head. It does nothing to mute the bass music or the sound of the thumping. I try to endure it, but it doesn’t end.

  Ever.

  And when I peer out from underneath my pillow and come face to face with a giant two on my alarm clock, I snap. I throw my blanket off with a growl, leap out of bed, and grab my white sweater off the floor. Pulling it on over my head, I storm from my room, flicking lights on as I go. I hate I have to go next door myself. If Nick were home, he’d do it for me. Though I’d have to venture into his room to wake him since, most nights, we don’t share a bed. My idea. We’re taking it slow. Very slow. Since we started off as roommates and friends, I didn’t want to ruin what made things so easy. I moved incredibly fast with Caleb and fell deeply in love with him. It kills me to admit I’m still not over him, even after all this time, and Caleb forcing himself into my life again is detrimental to everything I’ve tried to build without him. He affects me enormously, and I don’t know how to safeguard what I’ve got, but I have to try…

  …because Nick won’t let me go easily, and the thought of fighting him scares me.

  He scares me.

  I don’t know why he’s so attached. We haven’t even had sex yet. Nick thinks it’s because I’m abstaining from sex until marriage. It’s really because I can’t shake the sadness and the guilt that comes with thoughts of being with someone other than Caleb. I’m stupid for feeling this way given the fact Caleb is banging some girl in his bed, hard enough to wake his neighbor—who also happens to be his ex-girlfriend. I’ve always considered Caleb arrogant and bratty, but this is inconsiderate and hurtful. Even for him.

  I rush out of my apartment, startling a man and a woman making out in the hall, but I pay them no mind and bang on Caleb’s door. It takes my fist hitting the door twenty-three unrelenting times before it’s finally pulled open and I’m greeted by Caleb’s devastatingly handsome face.

  His hooded, drunken green eyes flare when he sees me, a satisfied smirk on his lips, like he expected me to show up at his door. My stomach tucks and rolls at the sight of him. The way his white tee clings to his long, lean, and well-formed torso. The way he clenches the neck of his beer with his large hands. A shiver rolls down my spine as I recall how nice they felt against my body, how Nick’s gentle touch pales in comparison to Caleb’s rough, needy grasp.

  I clear my throat, my need for sleep winning against the bubbling urge to shove him to the ground and kiss him. “It’s two a.m.”

  He smiles at me, and my heart stutters. To this day, it amazes me how he’s able to hide so much darkness beneath such a beautiful mask…but I know him better than anyone. He’s hurting.

  Because of me and what I said.

  His green gaze, now a dark shade of emerald, rakes
over me with one overt stroke, and my stomach tightens, forcing me to press my thighs together. Just like a year ago when I stood before him at his father’s church, I feel like a tiny piece of scrap metal, holding on for dear life as Caleb, the powerful magnet, fights to draw me in.

  “I’m aware. Cute pants.”

  I glance down at my bed pants, and heat rushes into my cheeks. White and rainbow unicorns on light pink fabric. Swallowing my embarrassment, I scowl at him. “I’m in my pajamas because normal people sleep at this time.”

  He shrugs. “I don’t sleep. Might as well have fun.”

  I point my finger in his face, and his lips twitch with amusement. “You’re not the only one who lives in this building,” I point out, and he steps forward, forcing me back. I swallow hard to calm my racing throat as he closes the door behind him, closing off some of the racket. “You’re being inconsiderate, juvenile, and selfish.”

  Caleb huffs, specks of bright green in his irises lighting up in anger. “Me? You’re the one playing house with some other guy.”

  I ball my fists at my sides, unyielding to his loud and aggressive tone. “I got with Nick long before you came back into the picture, so don’t you dare talk to me like I did it to spite you.”

  Frowning, he snaps his head to the left, shooting daggers at the couple in front of my apartment who watch us like hawks. The girl quickly tucks her long, brunette hair behind her pixie-like ears as the guy she’s with bends to pick up her handbag.

  Then they leave…

  …and I’m alone with Caleb.

  I gulp and turn my head, meeting his angry glare. “I’m working a twelve-hour shift today,” I tell him, and his expression softens with…guilt? Regret? “And I’ve barely slept, so if you could please lower the music a little and stop fucking girls so hard your bed slams into my wall, I’d appreciate it.”

  I hate my tone turns bitter toward the end. It shouldn’t bother me he sleeps with other women. I mean, I know what kind of person he is. He was doing God knows what to girls in his father’s office at Sunday Mass when I first met him.