Page 109 of Wicked Dreams

A smile curls his lips. Maybe I said it out loud, because he ducks back in and steals another one. His tongue swipes along the seam of my lips. I push into him, grabbing the back of his head.

Kisses like these make me feel electric.

Like I could be lost in a snow squall, but Caleb’s lips would guide me back.

Once I’m properly breathless, he leans back. His smirk gets bigger. “I like you like this.”

A confession for my ears only.

“Tussled. Horny. Did my kiss make you wet?”

I blush.

“That might be a yes. That’s a mystery I look forward to solving.” He gets out and circles around, opening my door for me.

I take the arm he offers, and we walk up toward Ian Fletcher’s house.

Never mind that Ian and Amelie have been sleeping together, and that Ian is a dirt-bag bully, his house isgiant.

“I thoughtyouwere rich.”

Caleb laughs. “Yeah, but our wealth isn’t in the house. You know it’s been in the family since my grandparents bought it. Fletcher’s house is purely new money. I’d rather just take you home and sneak into your room, but…”

Some football players rush past us, calling Caleb’s name.

“That,” I answer, “is why we have to make an appearance?”

He shrugs. “This is just football. Wait until hockey season really gets underway.”

I shiver in my jacket. “It gets… bigger?”

Half the school must be here. Music and lights pour out of the house, and our classmates are everywhere. On the front lawn, around back, in the house. Through the window, couples are dancing in Ian’s front room.

“Bigger?” Caleb snorts. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

I swallow. And then we’re inside the house, his fingers lacing through mine. We weave through the crowds, finding Eli and Ian talking in the kitchen. Riley is nowhere to be found.

“Sup, man,” Ian slurs slightly. “Epic game, right? Listen, I’m sorry about fucking around with Amelie. She’s a real hot?—”

“Better shut up, Ian,” Eli warns.

Caleb watches Ian with a blank face.

“Oh shit.” Ian laughs. He backs away, pointing at me. “You fucking downgraded, you know? To the coke-whore’s?—”

Caleb lunges forward, his fist snapping out faster than I can follow. Ian’s head whips backward, and blood pours down his face.

“What the fuck?” Ian yells. He swipes his hand under his nose, then dives toward Caleb, swinging wildly.

Caleb uses one hand to push me up against the wall, and he ducks Ian’s attempt to hit him. He keeps his body between us, and he rolls his shoulders back.

“Come on, Fletcher,” he growls. “I’ve been wanting to hit someone all fucking semester.”

He’s amped-up energy and muscle.

“You’re going to defend her?” Ian howls. “After she—” He jumps away from Caleb’s attack.

The way Caleb moves is brutal. He’s restricted by the jacket, but the fabric stretches across his back as he goes for Ian. Eventually, their little boxing match dissolves into something less human.

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