Deliver Us (The Sinful Duet Book 2)

by Skyla Madi

  Proud.

  I hadn’t heard that word fall from his lips since I was twelve. Our talk was difficult for him, I could see it in his face, felt it in his embrace, but it meant everything to me. He cast the first stepping stone into the unpredictable, rushing river that is our relationship. All we need to do is build on it.

  Fast forward to now, I’ve showered and I’m snug in my old bed. It smells the same, like clean linen and grape Chapstick. Almost everything in my room is exactly as I left it, despite the obvious telltale signs of Mom’s calculated tidying and the shiny new lock on my door. In the time we’ve been apart, my parents have grown exponentially.

  Because of Caleb. They’ve accepted I’m an adult. That my path in life is different to theirs, and it’s the most freeing feeling in the world. I almost feel complete.

  Almost.

  Pulling the thick blanket up to my chin, I close my eyes and listen to the steady, gentle patter of rain, hoping it eases my ache for Caleb and lulls me into sleep. The once distant rumble of thunder booms closer, following bright flickers of lightning.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  My eyes shoot open. Another flash of lightning and cracks of subsequent thunder rumble outside. When it passes, I hold my breath as if it’ll help me hear better. Nothing. I blow out an exhale and roll onto my side. Deflating with disappointment, I place my hand on the pillow beside my head and stare at my grandmother’s ring, the one my father entrusted to Caleb to give to me. My heart swells at the thought of Caleb and how sad he must feel now Agnes has passed. What’s he doing right now? Drowning in alcohol? Hurting himself? Hurting someone else?

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  My eyes snap open, and my heart leaps into my throat. I toss my blanket away, jump out of my warm bed, and rush to the balcony door. I throw the curtains apart, and my heart flutters. There he is.

  Caleb.

  I grab at the lock and flick it. He climbed all the way up here in the storm? What if he slipped and fell? Grabbing the handles, I tug them down and step back, pulling the doors wide open. Ice-cold wind whips at me, penetrating my skin and chilling me to the bone, and I gasp at the sight of him. I take a small step back to survey him, and a million questions bombard me. What happened? Water drips into his face from the tips of his hair. His hoodie is soaked and heavy, clinging to his body—his jeans too. I don’t even want to think about how much of this freezing water has pooled in his shoes. What’s he doing out in this weather? Why didn’t he use the front door? Caleb looks at me, his eyes soft, but his lips firm, and my heart thunders against my ribs, rivaling the constant rumble of thunder.

  “I’m sorry,” he utters, the bulk of his volume drowned out by the hammering rain as it splashes against the stone balcony.

  I straighten my spine and lift my eyebrows. He’s sorry? Caleb’s jaw tightens as he clenches his teeth against a shiver that gently shakes him. I rush forward and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him hard against me until the water held by his fabric seeps into my old winter pajamas and bites at my skin.

  Breaking my hold, I snag his hand and tug him inside. “Let me warm you before you get sick.”

  His shoes make gross squelch sounds as he steps over the threshold and uses his free hand to close the door behind him, locking us inside my old room.

  The place we began.

  It feels like a lifetime ago now.

  I lead Caleb into my adjoining bathroom and flick on the light and squint as my eyes adjust. Releasing my hand, Caleb bends to take off his shoes, but I stop him with a touch to his shoulder. Craning his neck, he looks at me, and I’m swallowed up by sad green irises. Poor thing. I don’t dare voice my sympathy, knowing very well how it triggers him.

  Caleb’s hair, blond and wet, sticks to his forehead, and I reach out and push it away, catching cold raindrops on the back of my hand.

  “Can I?” I ask, gesturing to his shoes.

  He takes a moment to blink at me, then with a gentle exhale, he softly nods, and I kneel to take off his drenched shoes and socks. When I’m done, I stand up, and he lifts his arms as I pull his soaked hoodie over his head. I toss it aside, and it hits the tiles with a wet slap. I take in his saturated shirt and the way it clings to his lean, muscular torso and, for a moment, I forget how to breathe. He has the most beautiful body, as if every inch of him has been expertly carved from the purest clay. I grab the hem of his shirt and peel it over his abdominals, exposing his stunning, perfectly shaped obliques and his smooth, tan flesh.

  “What were you doing out in the storm?” I ask, and Caleb shivers.

  “Walking.”

  I tug the shirt over his head, messing his hair, making him look wild and unkempt, and I toss it on top of his discarded hoodie. “In the rain?”

  “It wasn’t raining when I started.”

  I curl my fingers around the edge of his jeans and notice immediately he’s not wearing any underwear. Under my fingers, his abdominal muscles clench, heating my blood, warming my cheeks. I pop the button on his jeans and lower the zipper. Lifting my stare to his, I drag a subtle inhale through my nose. I can’t smell alcohol on him; there’s no trace of it in his breath or skin. I can’t smell anything that should concern me, only gentle hints of sweat muted by rainwater. He smells good, and the more I fill my lungs with him, the more every pore on my body begins to tingle.

  “I am so sorry for your loss,” I tell him, brushing the back of my hand against his left oblique, making the muscle twitch and the goosebumps on his skin deepen. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

  Caleb takes me by my wrist, and I suck air between my teeth as his ice-cold touch bites at me.

  “It’s not your fault. Both of us were dealing with a lot tonight, but we can talk about it later.” He lifts my hand to press freezing kisses to my knuckles, and his green eyes strike like an arrow through my very core. “Turn on the shower for me?”

  I do as I’m told. I leave Caleb and turn on the shower, holding my hand under the stream until it warms, and steam begins to billow, fogging the glass. When he gets in, I give him space and leave the bathroom to change out of my damp pajamas. When I return, Caleb’s standing in the same place, his head down, hair soaped, the hot water beating onto the back of his neck.

  I cautiously approach the shower and ease the door open an inch. “Do you need help?”

  Angling the front of his body away from me, he shakes his head and lifts his hands to push his fingers through his wet hair, washing the shampoo bubbles down the back of his neck. I catch the inside of my lower lip between my teeth in thought. I’ve never had to care for someone following the death of their loved one, and Caleb has a complicated history with grief. Do I leave him to his own devices? Or do I get in there and comfort him? I don’t want to suffocate him, but I want him to know I’m here for him.

  “Can I have a towel, please?” Caleb’s deep voice pierces through my thoughts, and I whirl on my heel to retrieve a big, fluffy pink one from the cupboard as he shuts off the shower.

  I wait, patiently, the towel open in my hands, my attention on his face, as he opens the shower door and steps onto the cream bathmat. He takes the towel, and I leave the bathroom and climb back into bed. A few minutes later, Caleb emerges, the pink towel wrapped low on his hips, and joins me under the covers. He’s close, a hair’s breadth away, his face aligned with mine, his clean, masculine scent washing over me. I breathe deeper, inhaling more of him into my lungs. My fingers twitch with the desire to reach out and touch him, but I don’t act on it. I need to know if we’re in a good place and if he needs time away from me to process Agnes’s death. It kills me to have to grant him that space, but…I’ve grown up a lot in the year I went without him.

  “If you need space…” I utter, my voice husky and warm. “I’m happy to give it to you.”

  He shifts his head closer, and my tummy flips as he ghosts his lips over mine. It’s not a kiss, more of a shared breath, but it affects me all the same.

  “I don�
�t need space from you.” With one hand, he begins to open the buttons of my top, making my tummy flip. “Space is the last thing I want.”

  Caleb eases his body closer and touches my lips with a real, soft kiss. He does it twice—three times—all while slipping his hand underneath the fabric of my shirt, sliding it over the soft skin of my stomach, to cup my breast.

  “What about our plans?” I ask against his mouth, my eyes fluttering shut. “Losing Agnes changes everything.”

  “It doesn’t change anything.” He gently kneads my pliable flesh in his large hand and trails kisses to my jaw line, to the pulse underneath it. “I’ll still marry you tomorrow, if that’s what you want.”

  I swallow hard as Caleb parts his lips and softly bites at my skin.

  “It’s important you work through your loss without distraction. It’s healthier. Besides…it would break my heart to see you sad at our wedding.” My eyebrows pull in. I feel selfish talking about our nuptial hours after Agnes’s death, but I want him to know there’s no pressure from me. “We can take it one day at time? See how we go?”

  Caleb pulls back from my throat, and I open my eyes. He searches my face with his dark eyes, and my body burns under his flashing gaze. “You still want to marry me though, right?”

  I reach out and touch him, gliding my hand along the side of his body, so he has no doubt a life with him is what I want. “More than anything.”

  I slide my palm further south of his hip. To my surprise, no towel blocks me from the firm muscles of his thigh. Heat flares in my cheeks at the thought of having him naked in my old bed again, here in Paradise Valley, with my parents sleeping right down the hall. This time, it’s different. My parents approve of my relationship with Caleb, of him being my life-partner. There’s a lock on my door and nothing stopping me from giving him all my love.

  I have a lot of it to give to him.

  Caleb brushes his nose against mine and sweeps his thumb over my hardened nipple. It’s a tender caress that sets my body and soul on fire. Seemingly without effort, he fills me with a hunger I never knew before him, with confidence that’s harder to exhibit outside of being naked and vulnerable with him and only him.

  “Do you want to talk about it? About her?” I ask, pushing my selfish need for him to the side.

  “No.”

  I draw small circles on his hip. He vibrates with a light hum and kisses me again, gently prodding my mouth open to slip his tongue inside. I try to get lost in it, but all I can think about is the hurt he must be harboring in his chest. How tight and heavy it must feel.

  I break the kiss. “You can talk to me.”

  Exhaling, a frustrated rasp on the end, he rolls his body in my direction, pushing me onto my back, and settles between my thighs, his pelvis moving my piercing within my creases, stirring something wicked inside me. “I’m not trying to talk.”

  I reach for his damp hair and push my fingers through it, then cup his face, pulling it closer to mine as I wrap my legs around his hips. His face looks different, his eyes less green and more clouded, like they used to be when we met. “But you can talk to me. About anything.”

  “I know.”

  I drag my thumb along his full lower lip. “I’m serious.”

  He doesn’t comment. With one hand, he takes my wrist and pins it to the bed, then does the same with the other. My heart beats erratically in my chest, and I struggle against him, but he allows no wiggle room. Lowering his face to mine, he touches my forehead with his.

  “I love you,” I tell him. His face is blank, but his eyes, his dark, warm, stormy eyes have a fire burning in them. “I hope you know that.”

  Again, he doesn’t comment. Instead, he moves his face to my neck and kisses my heated skin. I part my lips as his electric touch forces a gasp from my lungs and my hips to push against his. I lift my chin, and Caleb devours every new sliver of skin I allow him access to, groaning appreciatively. I could never get sick of him, of being with him. Every intimate second with Caleb is a unique experience full of inimitable energy. He’s an overwhelming hurricane wreaking havoc on all my senses.

  Caleb kisses his way down my throat, to my collarbone, my breasts, and my stomach. Every press of his lips is hungrier than the last, more urgent. He releases my wrists to squeeze and pinch at my flesh, hard enough to turn it pink, I’m sure. Then he moves on to grip the hem of my pajama bottoms. He curls his fingers around the waistband, the band of my underwear too, and rears back, lifting the blanket, and slides them both down my legs. The absence of Caleb’s warm body is bitter, but I use the space he’s put between us to catch my breath and watch under hooded lids as he tosses my clothes over his shoulder. I admire his physique. He’s a gorgeous human, perfectly built and always breathtakingly poised. His light hair gives him a boyish quality, but his eyes brim with the naughty promises of an experienced man a girl my age had no business being with. Maybe that’s what I love about him most, the dichotomy of his existence.

  I’ve always loved his long, athletic torso and strong broad shoulders. I could lick him all over and never tire of it.

  Grabbing the blanket, he pulls it up against his shoulders, then lowers himself onto me, settling himself between my legs, the head of his hard length against my core. Blood throbs in my brain in sync with my heart, which batters my lungs. The blanket surrounds us, almost swallowing us up completely, save for a small gap above our heads. I like it under here with him, in our warm, naked bubble. We’re safe.

  Turning my head, I kiss at Caleb’s neck and catch his skin between my teeth, reveling in the sexy noises he makes. They never fail to heat my blood. Slipping my arms under his, I smooth my hands over his shoulder blades and down his back. His skin is smooth and velvety under my palms, and every caress I gift him is met with a shudder as he clutches me close and presses against my opening, rubbing it in the wetness there.

  “Caleb…” I whisper, lifting my hips and moving onto him. I desperately want to feel him inside me, but he holds off on giving me what I crave. Why? I don’t fucking know. He refuses to talk to me. “Please,” I whisper into his neck. “Please. Please. Please.”

  I continue to move as best I can, squashed against him until I’m panting heavily and my muscles are burning with exertion. Caleb brushes hair out of my face and touches the back of his knuckles to my cheek.

  “You’re so damn good at showing me how bad you want it. I want to take you so hard, so loud, but your fucking parents…”

  He seizes my chin, holding me still as he kisses me slow, long, and wet. I close my eyes and melt into it—into him—and relax my legs enough for my thighs to fall wider apart. Breaking the kiss, I feel his lips twitch with a smirk, and before I can register why, his hand is there, rubbing my clit, playing in the wetness he created. I gasp, jerking my hips, digging my nails into his back, deep enough to make him moan appreciatively. He captures my mouth with his again and I’m lost to it, borderline delirious, in our hot bubble underneath the heavy, winter blanket. So much so I don’t register he’s moved his hand from my clit to grab my ass until he angles my pelvis and pushes all the way inside. Oh my God. I rip my mouth from his and suck air between my teeth as Caleb moans, deep and loud, and holds himself still until I’ve properly stretched around him.

  Exhaling, he presses his forehead to mine and rocks minutely, his breathing deepens. I hold him as tight as I can, not allowing an inch of space to build between us. I want him close. I want him to know, without a doubt, I’m here for him any way he needs me to be, like I should’ve been from the beginning.

  Slick sweat begins to form between our bodies, and Caleb stops trying to hold his weight off me, pushing himself as deep inside me as he can, never fully pulling out of me. His moving pelvis triggers ripples around my piercing, causing my thighs to tremble and every muscle in my body to clench with pleasure every time he moves. Underneath him, all I can do is take it, take all his need, desperation, and emotion, and drown everything else out.

  *Caleb*


  Not taking my eyes from hers for a second, I alternate my fast, deep strokes for shallow, fast pumps and switch between the two sporadically, guided only by the hitches in her breath and the subtle moans she tries to swallow.

  I push myself up on my arms to watch her breasts as they bounce every time I thrust into her. Then my gaze drifts down to where our bodies meet. Electricity shivers along my spine at the sight of her pretty pussy and the way it opens to take my cock. It’s astounding really, how I manage to fit inside her and bury it to the hilt without much resistance.

  “Oh, God. Yes,” she pants, her body clenching my cock.

  I look at her. Her lower lip caught between her teeth as she watches me fill her.

  “That turn you on?” I ask, my voice raspy with arousal.

  She nods, letting out a small whimper, and draws her knees higher and wider, opening herself up for me to see completely. Her pussy parts further, and I spot her piercing nestled comfortably at the top. Mm. I want more. I pull almost all the way out and watch the crown of my cock as it parts her pink, wet flesh. Quivering, I hold my breath and slowly sink back in, reveling in the way her pussy ripples, her thighs tremble, and her abdominals tighten. I’m glad I left the bathroom light on. I can see everything—every freshly waxed pore, every wet highlight.

  “Fuck,” I swear, gritting my teeth against a burst of pressure up my shaft.

  She’s gonna make me come early. She always makes me want to come early.

  I’ve been with tons of women—more than I’m proud of, and more than I’ll ever admit—but none of them light a candle to my woman. None of them were as tight, or hot, or wet as my woman. None of them were as cute or as sexy, and none of them made me want them enough to screw them bare, like I always do with Cassia. I’ll never use a condom with her. Not now, not ever, not even if I had to buy a bus to fit all our kids.