Page 60 of Wicked Dreams

One minute I’m lowering myself down, the next, my grip has slipped and I’m falling.

“Oof.”

I don’t hit the grass?—

Caleb catches me.

He looks down at me, his brows furrowing, then shakes his head.

“You should be more careful.” He soundscross.

“You should come up with less dangerous activities.”

His expression lights up. “But those are the only ones worth doing.”

Abruptly, he drops my feet to the ground. I stumble away from him, straightening the sweatshirt. Belatedly, it occurs to me that this ishissweatshirt.

It even smells faintly of him.

Not that I remember what he smells like…

“Come on.” He heads toward his car. With his hand on the passenger door handle, he asks, “Want to drive?”

I purse my lips. “No.”

“Why not? Afraid you wouldn’t be able to handle her?”

“It’s not that.” I narrow my eyes when he doesn’t move.

He rolls his and opens the door for me. He circles around and starts the car with a press of a button. In no time, we’re zipping down the street.

“Tell me.” His palm lands on my thigh. He finger-walks his hand higher, a devilish smile on his face.

“Stop.” The coiling heat in my stomach shifts lower.

“Do you mean that?”

I shiver.

“Are you suddenly shy, baby? I just had my face buried between your legs, and you’re scared of my fingers?”

His eyes are dark. They always seem to be dark when he does wicked things to me. My abdomen is tense, my stomach knotting. I cover his hand with mine, not to be nice—just to get his wandering to halt.

“I can’t drive,” I blurt out.

He pauses. “Really.”

“What, do you think a foster parent would’ve taught me?”

He withdraws with a scowl.

Slowly, I relax into the leather seat. His expression is contemplative. Maybe he’s going to ask—sooner or later, everyone asks.

What’s it like?

Don’t people want you?

Why hasn’t someone adopted you?

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