Page 43 of Blood
“Hi, baby,” he greets me, leaning down to kiss my right cheek.
I pull back before he can make contact.
Has he lost his fucking mind?
The look I give him asks as much. He stays bent toward me; his right hand braced on the back of my booth, his left on the table.
Annoyance washes over his features, but it fades a second later, his usual smile replacing it.
“Scooch over,” he orders, his body invading my space even more.
Shuffling over, I glare at Shelby.
“Who can say no to that face?” she asks, motioning across the table to Kaleb.
I roll my eyes.
“I’ve been trying to talk to you,” Kaleb says quietly, his body turned toward me, our knees touching.
I feel it as if his hand was resting there. The thought just makes me madder. “I haven’t had my phone on me.”
“All week?”
I shrug, looking away. Anywhere but at him.
The diner’s owner comes to the table before I can sulk anymore.
“I thought you were out of town again,” Judy says, looking at Kaleb.
“He was,” I mutter dryly.
“And now I’m not.” He smiles cheerfully.
Judy looks between everyone at the table. “You want the usual order?”
“I’m suddenly not hungry.” I shake my head.
Kaleb tuts. “You need to eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” I snap.
Why does he make me so mad?
This past week has been quiet and peaceful. Boring and sad. Lonely. The fact that I missed the asshole raises my temperature more than sitting next to him does.
Kaleb leans his head back on the booth and groans. A rush of images floods my brain. What we did that night. The way he gripped my hips, the grunts he made.
I feel my face flush, heat searing through me. My chest feels tight.
I fucked him.
I had sex with Kaleb.
Guilt, disgust, embarrassment, and shame consume me. But it’s what I don’t feel that tips me over the edge. Regret.
“Samantha,” Kaleb whispers. His hand feels heavy and intrusive on my thigh, and even though it’s under the table, I feel exposed.
Do they know?
