Page 51 of In You
My face heats up even more and I nibble my bottom lip, looking at him from beneath my lashes, wondering what it'd be like to kiss him. The longer we stare at each other, the more my mind races until my shyness is overrun by a sudden flash of anxiety.
I tilt my head as a thought hits me; he hasn't tried to fuck me since I've been here.
"Caleb, I…" I say as I stare, putting my bagel down slowly, horrified. "Caleb, am I never going to be able to leave?"
My heart thumps heavily in my chest. It's just now truly occurring to me that I may actually be stuck here. With him. And may never have sex again. Once I'm done healing, I have nowhere to go. No one to touch me. My mind goes back to this morning where he was sucking my nipple and I get sad, thinking I won't ever have intimacy again. Likerealintimacy. Not the fake kind where he's asleep and doesn't know what he's doing.
The kind of deep love that only exists in Edgar Allen Poe poems, and Jane Austin books.
I don't even think he wants me. He hasn't tried to touch me.Consciously,I mean.
A look of shame crosses his face before, "you can't leave, sweetheart."
"You can trust me," I whisper.
My fingers twitch when I go to reach for his hand but then stop myself at the last moment, pulling away. He catches the action, and then puts his attention back to his plate. His throat works hard as he just stares for a moment. So many thoughts flicker between his eyes, but none he volunteers to share with me.
I sigh, picking my bagel back up, barely tasting it as I take another nibble.
A few hours later I'm in my room, sulking on my bed as the rain gently hits the window pane. Caleb put a television in here so that I don't need to feel like I have to go into the living room, and I have streaming access. Some show I could care less about flickers on the television, but I'm too lost in my thoughts toworry about how many shows I've run through without paying attention.
So lost, that when a knock sounds at the door, it startles me.
"Sweetheart?"
My heart beats a little faster at the sound of Caleb's voice. It's hesitant, miles from the assertive, cocky tone he'd used at the Captor's home when I first met him. And I must say, I love vulnerable Caleb. I want to protect him. It's probably sick, and wishful thinking after everything I've gone through with the Captor but…
I want him to want me.
"Come in," I call, rolling to my side on the deep green comforter, not bothering to sit up.
The door opens, and he walks in barefoot. I love this about him, the fact that he's so relaxed and open in his home. So at ease. A man who loves his space makes it shine, and you can tell his home sparkles just like his heart does.
Caleb steps forward a few feet, his eyes locking with mine as he journeys closer. "Are you okay?"
I nod, exhaling a breath. "Yeah, I'm okay." I blink, furrowing my brow. "Areyouokay?"
"Yes." His gaze slides to the television before returning back to mine, and he clears his throat softly, folding his arms. "I was just wondering what you were up to?"
Fighting back a giggle, I smile. "Just watching the rain and thinking." His eyes go to the window next, and then he narrows them in obvious displeasure. "You don't like the rain?" I ask.
"No." A muscle ticks in his jaw. "Not really."
"Oh really? Why not?" Just on cue, thunder rumbles in the background and lightning flashes in the room.
My gaze lowers to the comforter, and as the sound of the rain becomes louder, I drag my finger across the little white patterns. "Rain is healing," I say softly. "On the days it rained, all I wantedto do was go outside and lay down, and let it pound down on me. But I never could. He never let me. " I sigh.
Caleb crosses the distance between us and slowly lowers to his knees, his head still level with mine. He reaches a hand out and then lightly traces the scar on my knuckle. I pause as a feeling I have no name for washes over me. Tears even well in my eyes, but they don't overflow.
Out of all my memories, this is the one that's stuck with me the most. Clear as day.
"The very first time he hurt me, he gave me that," I whisper so quietly it's a wonder he even heard me. "I'll never forget it. I don't think I've ever felt so broken before in my entire life."
His fingers continue to caress the raised, dark, two inch scar. And when he slides his hand up my palm to my wrist, then up to my forearm, his eyes narrow. "You're not broken."
My brows raise, and my heart skips a beat.
But he acts like he doesn't notice, and continues his path to my elbow. When he caresses me there my skin visibly breaks out in goosebumps. However I keep my fingers lax on the comforter, just letting him touch me and say what's on his mind.
