Page 20 of Blood

Rude.

“Get in here.”

Better.

I don’t try to hide my smile. I click the door closed as quietly as I can and run toward his bed. The covers are pulled back on the right side for me when I jump in beside him.

“Thank you.” I kiss his cheek.

He doesn’t answer, just grunts and rolls away onto his left side. Giving a mental shrug, I pull the blankets high beneath my chin. His scent surrounds me. Pulling a little more on the blankets, I bring them to my nose.

This is creepy, right? But I inhale again, my limbs melting one by one with each inhale.

My breath catches when lightning flashes through the small window. My legs shift restlessly.

I hate storms.

“Samantha,” he warns, sounding pretty annoyed. I forgot how grumpy he is when he’s tired.

Lying on my back, I worm my body closer to Kaleb’s. His warmth pours out, inviting and forbidden.

Don’t make it weird, Sam.

I don’t stop moving until I feel his back against my arm. When thunder rumbles again, the bed shakes with how hard I jump.

Kaleb’s sigh fills me with guilt.

A thick arm reaches back, his large hand clasps my right hip rolling me until my front is pressed against his back. The bed shakes again.

“Easy, sweet girl. The only thing dangerous in this room is me. Nothing and no one gets past me to get to you,” he whispers, stroking his thumb back and forth along the band of my shorts.

But it’s not fear that shakes my body this time, and my eyes tear up as I swallow my secret. My breathing stutters, fanning his back. A streak of lightning shows the goose pimples I’ve caused.

The hand on my hip shifts, dropping to my lower back. His fist is harsh when he grabs a handful of my shorts and tank top. The cotton rides up as he pulls.

My body rises, gliding over his clumsily.

“Ahh.” I squeak in pain. My shorts and panties are bunched in my ass crack. I have the world’s biggest wedgie. “You could have just asked,” I grumble.

“And you could be in your own bed.” He huffs, shifting me until I land on the bed in front of him. “Turn,” he orders, pointing away from himself.

I do as I’m told. We’re both too tired for me to argue.

Reaching back, I try to fish my clothes from my ass. The back of my hand grazes something a second before his hand grips mine tightly. His tone is sharp as he says, “Stop.”

“I’m uncomfortable.” I roll my eyes.

I feel him shrug behind me. “And I was sleeping before you came in.”

“Well, I wasn’t wearing a thong,” I snap, finally adjusting my shorts when he releases his hold.

His chuckle is deep and sleepy. It forces any remains of fear from my body. It takes a few minutes, but he slowly relaxes too.

A strong arm snakes over my ribs, pulling me close. His chest to my back makes my nipples pebble, and I fight what he makes me feel, but I don’t fight for long. Sleep consumes me quickly once I’m wrapped up safely in his arms.

But even as I rest, the storm outside isn’t the only one that rages. A tear leaks out, rolling over the bridge of my nose and dropping onto the pillow.

The pillow that smells like him . . . the man who I can never have.