“Cass,” Calder murmurs, testing my name out and drawing me back under his spell. Kissing my shoulder, he says it once more as he eases back.
When the head of his cock slips inside my entrance and he slowly pushes forward, I let out a soft cry of want, then freeze. “Condom?”
“Always,” he confirms as he slides a hand down my back. Anchoring his other hand on my hip, he tenses, pausing his forward movement. “Christ, if you don’t let go of that grip a little, Cass, we’re not going to make it past round one.”
I take a deep breath and try to relax.
“That’s my girl.” He presses deeper, then grits out, “Fuck…I can’t…” right before he rams deep.
When I yelp, he clasps my hips and stills. “Are you okay?”
I nod and flex around his thickness, letting him know I’m fine.
“Don’t do that. Not yet,” he says before he slowly exhales and his hands tighten on my hips
He’s still not moving and that’s all I want to do, but I force myself to remain perfectly still and wait for him to make the first move.
Several calming breaths later, Calder pulls almost completely out of me and eases halfway back inside.
My belly flutters and I rock my hips, my actions rubbing the tip of his cock along an amazing pleasure center. Calder lets out a low, wicked chuckle and lifts up higher, then applies pressure with counter thrusts.
Skin tingling, I pant and babble out incoherent gasps among chants of his name and pleas for more.
He grips my pelvis and tilts me, arching my back. Whenever I move, I’m in pre-orgasmic heaven. Shaking and quivering all over, I’m just on the edge. And I can’t believe now is when I realize I haven’t felt the darkness that normally surrounds me during sex. Calder is so distracting, so consuming, I don’t have time to think. Just feel…and it’s so amazing I never want it to end.
Bending close, he slides his hand along my belly until he reaches my clit. Stroking with a knowing touch, he demands in his low bass, “Come, Cass. Give me the best damn orgasm, angel.”
He tweaks my clit once more and I tumble over the edge as fiery passion flares through me. Clawing at the sheets, I jut back against Calder, grinding on his cock like a cat in heat. The sounds of his breathing spiking and his knowing hands moving over me while my own pulse whooshes in my ears only adds to my feverish climax.
The second my gasps slow, Calder begins to move in and out of me in steadily harder strokes. My body reacts to his erotic rhythm and hard friction, my core soaking once more, building for another release.
When I lift up on my hands to better counter his movements, Calder leans over and pulls me to my knees like him. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he nudges us forward, gruffly commanding, “Use the headboard for leverage.”
As soon as I grip the smooth, curved wood, I cry out in shock when Calder lowers his dog tags over my head. I instantly shiver at the ice-frigid metal beads searing into my flushed skin and his tags resting between my breasts. The contrast is so arousing, I clench Calder hard enough to draw a pained grunt. Gripping my waist, he jerks his hips forward, burrowing deeper and growling his own fierce response. I gasp at the fullness possessing my body and press back against him, loving his aggressiveness.
Calder’s movements are so hard and fierce, I pant in building excitement, each time feeling like a deeper possession. Before I realize it, my breasts are pressed against the headboard and the rhythmic rubbing of my nipples against the polished wood, combined with the cool metal against my skin, hikes my adrenaline to a fever pitch.
As a powerful orgasm rips a scream from me, Calder rams deep once more, then groans through his own release. We’re both still panting when he captures my neck and hauls me back against his hard chest, the fine sheen of sweat between us fusing our bodies even more. Feathering his fingers down my throat, he touches the edge of the choker and rumbles against my jaw, “Now you’re fully mine.”
We stay in that position for a while, our fast breathing the only sound in the quiet room. As if on cue, even the records had stopped playing. Calder presses a kiss to my shoulder then whispers against my throat, “I’ll never get enough.”
I’m surprised to feel him hardening inside me once more. It makes me giddy in an exhausted kind of way. I lift his hand and kiss his palm. “Let me catch my breath.”
He chuckles in my ear and while he heads for the bathroom, I lie down on his pillow and soak in his wonderful smell.
Calder turns off the lights and climbs into bed behind me, his strong arm sliding me fully against his chest. I settle into the protective cradle of his muscular body and bask in the blissfully content feeling.
He brushes my hair behind my ear and says, “What does Celeste get out of this?”
It’s not that I don’t trust him to keep this between us, but I’ve already broken my own word. He has no idea how much it feels like I’ve betrayed myself. It’s not him, it’s me dealing with my own issues. “Celeste’s reasons are her own to tell, Calder.” I close my eyes, my stomach tightening. I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve failed and all of this is going to blow up in my face.
He exhales his frustration against the back of my neck, his fingers stroking through my hair. “Don’t go back. Whatever it is…blow it off.”
I roll to face him and kiss his jaw. “It’s not that simple. This isn’t just about me. Celeste has the ability to help my dad get a project approved. It’s something that he’s been trying to do for years without success.”
“Do you think Celeste would give you as much loyalty as you’re giving her right now?”
Sounds like he knows Celeste pretty well, but this is about seeing my word through, at least the part of it I kept. “I can’t say.”
When his expression hardens, I cup my hand on his jaw. “Would you not fight if I asked you to?”
His jaw flexes under my palm. “That’s different.”
“No, it’s not.”
Digging his fingers into my hair, his eyes glitter in the darkness. “The difference is you know the whole story. I don’t.”
I move my hand to the Solus word on his ribcage. “Do I?”
“That has nothing to do with my fighting.” He holds my gaze for a beat before he continues, “I feel like there’s a lot more that you’re not telling me.” Clasping my wrist, he starts to lift my hand to his mouth, then pauses, his brow furrowing as he slowly draws his thumb across the scars.
Before our gazes can lock once more, I roll back over and mumble, “I don’t know for sure what she’s doing, Calder.” I can guess…and it’s sad and truthfully none of my business.
“Forget about Celeste.” He slides his hand down my arm, reaching for my wrist. “Cass—”
“Just hold me, Calder,” I say, threading my fingers with his.
He doesn’t say another word. He just pulls me close and whispers in my ear, “You’re mine now. I’ll always keep you safe.”
As Calder’s muscular arm around my waist grows heavier in his sleep, I revel in the feeling of comfort his last words bring to my heart. I want to tell him why sticking to my word means so much to me, but it’s too mired in a past I don’t want to dredge up. Just thinking about that day fills me with a sense of shame. No, it’s not something I want to share.
But no matter how hard I try to keep the memory at bay it rushes forth anyway, a reminder that life is both precious and precarious and we should never take it for granted.
I drunkenly stumble into my dorm room in my clubbing heels, skimpy skirt and leather jacket, thankful my roommate is with her boyfriend tonight. I’d run the three blocks from the club back to the dorm in sheer panic. I kick off the sky-high heels; that isn’t the pain I desperately crave. I need something more. I have to feel what I’ve worked so hard to overcome. Therapy, meds, hypnosis…I’d done it all in an effort to break the cycle, and I’ve been good my entire freshman year. Even got my very first tattoos across my wrists as a reward to myself.
I head for the b
athroom and fall to my knees, digging for my makeup bag. I rip open the zipper on the cloth bag and makeup flies everywhere. I peel back the compartment inside where I’d hidden a blade and hold it aloft.
I’m so screwed up. I’ll never be normal. Never have a fucking real relationship.
I can’t bring myself to cut on the wrist with the raven; it was my favored wrist in the past. I shift the blade to my other hand and slide it across the opposite wrist, then lean back against the bathroom door as the pain and sheer bliss wash over me.
Several seconds pass as I revel in the most euphoric state I’ve ever experienced. I close my eyes and vaguely wonder if it feels so good because it’s been so long.
Then Sophie’s voice is whispering in my ear. “What are you doing? You promised, Cass. You gave me your word you would help Dad! You can’t go back on that. Open your eyes!”
She’s so upset, so distraught it sounds like she’s right here in the bathroom with me. My eyes fly open and I glance around the tiny bathroom. “Sophie?”
My knees slip on the floor as I swivel around, looking for my sister. Why is the floor wet? It feels like things move in slow motion once I look down and see the pool of blood under me.
I blink in confusion before it hits me that I cut too deep. Wooziness floods my mind, making me lightheaded. “You gave me your word!” Sophie calls in my ear once more.
“I know,” I whisper through the tears streaking down my cheeks.
My arms feel like noodles, but I manage to grab a towel and wrap it tight around my wrist.
Crawling to my purse feels like I’m swimming through molasses, but I finally pull out my phone and dial 911.
“911. What’s the state of your emergency?” the operator says in a clipped tone.
“I—I think I need an ambulance,” I croak out.
“What is your name?” she asks.
I blink and clasp my wrist tighter against my chest.
“Stay on the line. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
“Too much blood,” is all I manage to say before darkness overtakes me.
Coming back to the present, I sigh in the darkness. After I woke in the hospital, they put me on suicide watch for a while, until they were convinced I wasn’t a danger to myself any longer.
Almost dying—even by accident—was the wakeup call I needed to get my shit together. If it hadn’t been for Sophie—well, my mind conjuring my sister’s voice reminding me to keep my word—I wouldn’t be here today.
I lift Calder’s hand and press a kiss to his knuckles. He mumbles in his sleep and pulls me closer. I smile in the darkness and let myself fully relax in his warm embrace.
I awake with a start, blinking in the dark room. Calder’s arm is tight around my waist, his breathing even in deep sleep.
The ceiling illuminates across the room, drawing my attention. It’s my phone. I glance at Calder’s nightstand clock. Oh, shit, it’s one a.m. As gently as I can, I ease out of the bed so I don’t wake him. He rolls over, but remains fast asleep.
When I reach the phone I can see that I have a missed call from Beth. I try to tap the notification, hoping it’ll let me in, but the lock screen pops up for a code.
What four number code would Celeste possibly put in for me? As I stare at the keypad, the letters jump out at me. Could it be that simple?
I quickly type in 2277 for my name. When the lock screen disappears, I breathe a sigh of relief, then tap on the voice message icon.
“Celeste, where the hell are you? Dad called me freaking out. Must be all the kiss-ass crap he’s got lined up for us to host this week. Get your butt home right now. I don’t want to have to deal with him alone. I’m on my way as well.”
I immediately text Celeste.
Me: Where are you? It’s an hour past when you said you’d be home.
Five minutes later, I type another text.
Me: Should I go back to your house and wait for you to call me tomorrow morning?
I wait another ten minutes, then walk into Calder’s bathroom and dial a taxi service, trying not to panic. Where is Celeste? Why isn’t she answering my texts?
Once I’m dressed, I walk over and stare at Calder sleeping soundly under the moonlight shining through the big window. He’s sprawled on his back in the big bed, muscular arms resting above his head and powerful thighs tangled in his white sheets. Even relaxed in sleep, his fit body looks like a warrior’s with his Celtic tribal tattoo standing in contrast against the stark sheets.
We’d fallen asleep with no more words said, but it was still a comforting silence. I hate that I have to leave like a thief in the night, but if I wake him up, he’ll just try to convince me to stay. I force myself to look away before I lean over and kiss him awake.
Reaching up, I try to remove the choker he gave me, but I can’t quite get the clasp to work. My finger hooks on a small ring, so I use the ring to pull it forward and work the clasp while looking in the bathroom mirror.
Laying the necklace and his dog tags next to the turntable, I slip the note I wrote him under them.
Calder,
I’m sorry I have to leave my choker. While it’s badass and totally something I would wear, the style isn’t Celeste’s. I’m leaving it here in your safe-keeping.
Cass
[email protected]
As the taxi pulls into the drive, I see two men standing in the driveway beside an unmarked police car. They’re talking to Celeste’s father, who’d slipped on a pair of jeans and a sweater. Before I even get out of the car, Phillip appears around the side of the Carver’s home, tugging on a zip-up pullover. Apparently he’d walked over from his estate. It’s not a good sign if Gregory called his lawyer. Unfortunately it’s too late to ask the driver to pull away.
Taking a breath, I pay the taxi and get out. “What’s going on?” I say as the taxi pulls away.
Gregory gestures to me, obvious relief on his face. “See detectives, my daughter is safe and sound. I knew there was some kind of horrible mistake.”
“I told you she was with me,” Beth grumbles, arms folded. She’s ticked I ruined her night out with Brent.
“We’ll discuss why she’s arriving separately later, young lady,” Gregory reprimands Beth before he walks over to stand beside me. “We’re just glad you’re home safe, Celeste.”
I wrap my arms around myself to ward off the late night chill in the air and ask, “Why did you think I wasn’t safe?”
The reed-thin detective holding an old-school notepad and pen glances my way, his dark eyebrows hiked. “We’re glad to see you’re okay, Miss Carver. We found an abandoned rental car on a stretch of 495 with your ID in the floorboard and blood coating the seat and driver’s-side door. We’ll be testing the blood, but in the meantime, can you tell us how your ID ended up in a rental car?”
Oh shit…has something happened to Celeste? I swallow the bile rising in my throat and dart my gaze between the detectives, Phillip, Gregory, and Beth.
Gil tugs his golfer’s cap down over his curly salt-and-pepper hair, then gestures with his cane from his position on the stool against the cinder block wall. “Your turn, Zeke. Hop on the mat. Calder, get on there and show ‘em how it’s done, son.”
Gil’s lined face looks tired. I want to tell him to go home, that I’ll coach the guys, but he’s determined to get his mojo back, so I keep my mouth shut.
Zeke bounds over to the mat, pulling on fighter gloves. With a stock of thick, dirty-blond hair and dark, almost black eyes, he can’t be more than eighteen, but he’s lean and hungry. And fucking fast. I watched him kickboxing with the bag earlier. Still, he’s green and cocky as hell.
The poor kid doesn’t have a chance. I don’t even have to take him to the floor to best him. A few punches, some body locks and one good choke-hold shakes him up, before a powerful kick to his neck lands him to the mat and finishes him off.
I help him up and pat his shoulder. “Remember, always keep your guard up. If I’d put more force behind that
hit, it would’ve knocked you completely out.”
Nodding, he mumbles, “I guess I should be training more. I’ll start coming in on Tuesdays and Thursdays too.”
Gil taps his cane on the floor in approval. “Who’s next?”
“I’ll challenge him,” a familiar voice calls through the guys crowding around to watch.
I jerk my head around as the boys part to let my cousin through, and lock gazes with Bash’s bright blue one. He’s standing there in slacks and a dress shirt, not a strand of his short cropped black hair out of place. The last time I saw him was over three months ago. How the fuck did he find me?
I turn to Gil and say, “Can you give us five?”
“No problem. Come on boys, it’s nice out today. Laps for the lot of ya.”
Once the grumbling men leave, I walk over to the punching bag and start with a few jabs per every step, then a one-two combo. “What are you doing here, Bash?”
“What. The. Fuck. Calder!”
I throw an extra hard left that sends the heavy bag swinging before I turn and grab a pair of gloves from the box by the wall. “You want to talk, you’ll have to do it while I’m training,” I snap, throwing the gloves at his chest.
Bash instantly snags the set before they fall to the floor. Tucking them under his arm, he rolls back his sleeves, muttering, “If you want a good beat down, I’m happy to oblige.”
I flash a smile. “Bite me. We’ll see who gets wiped first.”
Bash takes off his shoes and socks, then pulls on the gloves as he meets me over on the mat.
We circle the mat, each looking for the other’s weak spot. Mine just left me high and dry early this morning. Guess that means I’m back to being invincible once more.
“Is this what you’re doing with your time? MMA fighting?” Bash snarls as he feigns left, then slams my shoulder with a hard right jab.
“Lucky shot,” I say, just before I hammer him with a round of punches and kicks so fast he only manages to fend off about half of them.
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