Page 32 of Wicked Dreams

I lock the door and face her. She’s just now realizing there’s no nurse here, and the first flicker of fear comes back.

I clench my fists in an effort not to do something stupid, like throttle her. He was touching her, and she didn’t give a fuck. To think, I actually used to like Mr. Bryan.

Not any-fucking-more.

Leaning against the door, I spit out, “I didn’t think you’d have the guts to bone a teacher.”

She blanches. “Excuse me?”

“You and Mr. Bryan. I can see why you wouldn’t want me tomake your life hell. So many secrets to hide,” I muse.

She snorts and turns, like she plans on going to the window or something. She likes to do that. She did it when I found her in the other tower, and now she’s trying to retreat again. I move forward, ignoring the tug of pain across my ribs. I slide my fingers through her hair, burrowing until I reach her hot skin. I grip the back of her neck and pull her back toward me.

She swings around, much more pliable than expected, and hits my chest with hers. Her little grunt does dangerous things to my body. Surprise is on my side, though. I capture her wrist with my free hand and pin it to the small of her back.

“Tell me, how good of a lay is he?”

She’s struggling against my hold, but my grip is iron.

“Does he have a giant dick? Cuddle you after?—”

“He’s my foster dad,” she snarls. “Let go of me.”

“No,” I snap, just so I have a second to process. Then, “Foster dad.”

The words sound weird on my tongue.

I know her dad. And her mom. That she has another family… I mean, I know she’s had a myriad of other families, a lot of which were absolute shit. Does she call him Mr. Bryan in his home? And his wife? She can’t be on a first-name basis with them… or worse, call them her parents.

Foster dad.

Huh.

“Caleb. Let go.”

While I consider her words, she’s still putting up a struggle. Her free hand has wedged between us, shoving at my chest. But her squirming is only igniting a new sensation inside me. One that’s been dormant for too long.

Don’t get me wrong—I’ve fucked around. But this is different… this is electricity.

I walk her backward, until the tall workbench stops us. It hits just under where I hold her wrist captive. I release it and trail my hand up, over the side of her breast. I pause there. The urge to maul her when she’s helpless…

It’s not the time or place to give in to my baser urges. If it was, I don’t think I’d stop at just touching her breast over her shirt. I’d want to touch her skin, see her nipples stiffen under my gaze, taste her…

I force my hand higher, up the front of her neck. Her pulse beats against my palm, and my fingers dig lightly into her jaw. “You afraid, baby?”

“Don’t call me that.” She tips her head away from me.

“I think you secretly like it.”

“Is this because I said you lost?” She wriggles again.

God, I cannot stand her.

I shove my hips forward, making my unfortunate situation in my pants very clear.

Her eyes widen, and she goes perfectly still.

“Remember one thing about me.” I put my face right in front of hers.

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