I shrug. “There are two of you.”
He exhales and moves me to the side, opening my door. “Get in. Before I do something I shouldn’t.”
Turns out… doing something he shouldn’t means kissing me in the driveway, both of us straining to get closer. He lifts me and slips his hand into my pants again. Doing something he shouldn’t means putting my hand to his erection, letting me feel him through his pants.
I need more. His tongue, his hands, his dick—I’m hot with the urge to jump his bones. In public. Against his freaking car, where anyone can see.
He pulls away.
“You’re drunk, Margo,” he whispers. “And I’m not a good enough guy to tell you no.”
“Then don’t,” I mumble. Outside of our bubble, the world could be exploding for all I care.
He nips my throat.
“Caleb.” I wrap my arms around his neck, trying not to whimper.
He nearly throws me into my seat, glaring at me. “This is the last time I’m going to tell you no.”
A dose of reality comes back for a second, and I slouch. “Maybe you should take me home.”
“That’s the plan,” he says, exhaling.
We start driving, and I kind of zone out while his hand traces patterns on my leg. Before I know it, he’s scooping me out of the car and carrying me up a walkway.
“They’re gonna see,” I moan. Lenora and Robert are going to freak out if Caleb carries me into the house.
But he doesn’t stop to knock. He pushes the door open, and I crack my eyes enough to realize I’m not about to be confronted by my foster parents. We’re not even at his house. Yet he knows his way around and goes straight to the basement. I force my eyes to open. The basement has been converted into a bedroom.
“Where are we?” I mutter.
“Shh,” he whispers. “If I bring you back to the Jenkinses like this, they’ll crucify me.”
“So this is a self-preservation thing.” I close my eyes again. He’s warm.
He sets me on the bed and tugs at my clothes.
“Caleb Asher, are you trying to get me naked?” I’m not against it. I let him pull my jacket off, and then my shoes.
He pushes me back into the mattress. “You’re so fucking drunk. On one drink?”
I lift my shoulder. “In my defense, it was mostly vodka.”
“A cup full of vodka.” He snorts.
“And a dash of soda.”
“That must’ve tasted great.” He sits next to me, the bed dipping. He brushes the hair away from my face gently.
I’m suddenly reminded of my dad doing the same thing.
My lungs stop working.
“Stop.” I knock his hand away, covering my fear with annoyance. When I open my eyes, he’s staring down at me with confusion. “God, don’t get soft on me.”
“Sleep, then,” he offers.
“I have a curfew.”
He strokes my hair again and grabs my wrist when I try to bat it away. “You have two hours before curfew. And let me fucking be nice to you.”
I hold still as he picks up strands of my hair. He seems determined to touch me, and I can’t relax.
“What’s the issue?” he murmurs. “You’re more tense now than…”
I scoot backward, clumsily, and pat the mattress. I can’t open my eyes and bear to see emotions on his face—whatever sort of emotion that may be. Anger. Annoyance. Curiosity.
Not today, Satan.
He lies down next to me. “Didn’t think I’d ever have a girl fully dressed in my bed,” he mumbles.
I reach out blindly and stroke his cheek, curling into him. “Just a little nap.”
His chuckle is the last thing I remember before I drift off.
I wake up as he’s tugging me out of his car. I cringe, grabbing on to his wrists, and look around wildly. “What—”
“You were out,” he mutters. “And we can’t wait any longer, unless you want to be grounded for an eternity.”
I sigh. I’m suddenly on my feet, my arm looped over Caleb’s shoulder, and he leans down into me. We walk toward my house.
“Can you pretend to be more sober?”
“Aren’t I?”
“Aren’t you what?” He’s irritated.
We’re almost at the front door, I think.
“Sober,” I answer. Probably not, judging from his grunt.
“Your eyes are closed.”
“I’m just resting them.”
“How about you open them until I can get you up to your room?”
We somehow make it into the house, and I smile at Robert, who is waiting up for me without fail.
“You’re an hour late,” he says.
I cringe. “Uh-oh.”
He gets up and comes closer, and I tighten my grip in Caleb’s shirt.
“Are you drunk, Margo?” Robert asks.
“Not drunk per se,” I say. “I mean, it was just—”
“I’m going to get her upstairs,” Caleb says, pinching my side. “Sorry, Mr. Jenkins.”
Robert shakes his head. “Fine. We’ll discuss this in the morning.”
Caleb scoops me up and carries me to my room, laying me down on my bed. “You’re gonna have a hell of a hangover.”
I snort, touching his face again. “Yeah, maybe. Rescue me from the Jenkinses tomorrow. I’m gonna need it.”
“You got it.” He leans down and kisses my cheek, and then…
It’s cold in his absence. But in a matter of moments, it doesn’t really matter. I’m back asleep.
20
Caleb
Amelie is sitting on my bed when I get home.
“What are you doing here?” I raise an eyebrow. I’m all for a little excitement, but things are finally going smoother with Margo. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thrilled to finally get her to trust me. If I wasn’t positive Margo was passed out in her bed—the bed I just put her in—I’d be more inclined to drag Amelie out by her elbow.
She pushes her shoulders back and her chest forward. “You’re not happy I’m here?”
“I was looking forward to finding an empty bed.” I cross my arms and lean against my doorframe.
Her fingers play with the buttons on her blouse. “Quite the scene you made tonight.”
“Which is why I’m particularly surprised at your visit.”
She shrugs. “Thought you might want to know someone from our past found you.”
I tilt my head. “Let’s cut to the chase, Amelie. What do you want?”