Page 165 of Wicked Dreams

She puts the back of her hand on my forehead again. “How do you feel?”

I shrug. “The same.”

Everything hurts.

She shakes her head. “If you want to tell us who did this, we can go to the school.”

“What?” I would’ve guessed Riley told her. Hell, the whole school probably knows already. The big bully, Ian Fletcher, takes out his anger on Margo. Again.

“We know Caleb found you, but no one will tell us anything.” She wraps her hands in mine. “Please, honey, tell us so we can put anendto this. I don’t want you to feel scared?—”

“I don’t. I’m not scared.” It’s a bald-faced lie. I’m terrified.

She seems to analyze my face. Eventually, she nods. Whether she’s going along with my lie or unable to tell is anyone’s guess.

I carefully stand. “I’m going to go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Feel free to sleep in,” she tells me. “I’m leaving pretty early for work.”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

I hobble up the stairs—at this point, walking doesn’t totally hurt, but I’m indulging my melodramatic side—and slip into my bedroom.

“’Bout time,” Caleb whispers from the shadowy depths.

I jump, and my body greatly protests. Covering my groan with a rough exhale, I flick on the light. He’s sitting at my chair, fingers drumming on the edge of my desk.

“What?” he questions.

I shrug and glance back at the window. It’s cracked, letting in a biting chill. All the better to cuddle, I guess…

“Thought I locked it, is all.”

He smirks. “I unlocked it when I was here on a sanctioned visit.”

I sigh. The idea of not sleeping alone seems pretty damn good right about now. I was going to suffer my nightmares solo, but now I don’t have to.

He already has his shoes off.

I take a step toward the bed and freeze when he reaches under my pillow. “Planning on keeping this?” he asks, holding up his t-shirt.

I snatch it back and cradle it to my chest.

He just chuckles.

I lock my door and drop his shirt on my dresser, then venture closer. Somewhere between the beginning of the school year and now—only two months, shockingly—I stopped being afraid of him. I step between his legs, putting my hands on his shoulders. His eyes are level with my breasts, and he looks at them before tipping his head back and meeting my stare.

“Take my shirt off,” I whisper.

His hands are cold against my skin, lifting the hem of my shirt. He pulls it off me in one fluid motion, ruffling my hair. He tosses it to the floor beside him.

My bra goes, too. My nipples stiffen under his hot stare. His hand hovers between my shoulder blades, keeps me from jerking back as his thumb skates over my nipple. He focuses on the other one, leaning forward and flicking it with his tongue.

I groan.

“Does that hurt?” His thumb is still making lazy circles on my skin.

“I like it when it hurts.” The words slip out before I can stop them. I’d be mortified if I wasn’t enthralled with the way Caleb is touching me.

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