Page 28 of In You

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 wanted to 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.

"He tried to break you, and your mind might have done what it needed to do to protect itself, Camilla," his eyes snap to mine as his broad hand wraps around my forearm and squeezes, "but I want you to know that fucker did not break you."

My bottom lip trembles, and I sniff, pulling my hand away to wipe at my eyes. "Okay," I whisper tearfully, keeping my gaze downcast.

Not for long, though. He crooks a finger under my chin, gently forcing my head up so I can look him in the eye.

"Let's go," he says quietly.

I frown, furrowing my brow. "Go? Go where?"

He jerks his head to the window, where it looks like a tsunami might be getting ready to slam into the side of the house.

"But you just said you don't like the rain," I say incredulously, shaking my head as I sit up. "Caleb, I don't want you to have to-"

He puts a finger to my lips and shushes me. "Let's go."

Something tangible I can't express flows between us, softening me even more to him. Standing up, he holds his hand out to me, and I take it as our eyes meet again. "Are you sure?"

His thumb flutters across my cheek, and he nods, taking my hand in his without another word.

Leading me across the house and to the front door.

When he opens it, a gust of wind brings cold misty rain inside, and my entire spirit jerks awake at the damp smell and humidity that brushes against my skin just right.

My eyes go huge, and I tug from his grip to put a hand out there, letting it soak my skin before turning my head to him.

His broad hand settles to my lower back and then presses.

Stepping out onto the covered porch I pause, leaning into the feel of his hand on my back and breathing deeply.

"Oh wow," I sigh, sucking in another breath.

It's even more freeing than I used to dream.

When I open my eyes again, everything's blurry, and when I turn my face to his again, the tears fall, trailing down my face. But this time I don't check them.

And neither does he.

My heart tugs as I see his eyes look wet, too. And I wonder what part of this is emotional for him. What's going on in that head of his?

Is it pain, desire, hurt, confusion, lust?

"Go on," he says quietly, jerking his head towards the steps, "I'll be right next to you."

I nibble my lip and then take the steps down slowly, letting my hand trail down the wooden beam that serves as a railing.

I walk a few feet, the pea gravel digging into the sensitive skin of my soles, I look back over my shoulder expectantly.

He gives me a saccharine grin, but just keeps his shoulder leaned on the wooden pillar at the top of the stairs.

The water is cold as it mats my hair to my head, and begins to soak my clothes to my body.

Blinking the droplets out of my eyes, our gazes stay locked, and for some strange reason, even despite the freedom, I can't look away from him.

Well… it's not for some strange reason. There's a reason, alright.

I have no clue how after everything I've been through that I'm able to feel sexual desire like this, but I find myself craving him.

The hard tint to his stare when he looks at me, as if he's just waiting for something to leap out at me so he can kill it.

I'm making my peace with the fact that I'm drawn to his stoicism, his protective nature, and that gentle spirit that lies under it all.

I want to wrap it around me like I did that checkered blanket my first night here.

The one that smells of him; warm, infused with his natural scent, and layered with his cologne and a hint of smoke.

My fingers clench together as he keeps his eyes on me, and before I lose my nerve, I put aside my pounding heart, the feel of the blood rushing in my veins and the sound of my ears roaring, and I hold my hand out to him in a silent invitation.

His eyes slide from mine, traveling slowly down my face and neck, stopping at my breasts for longer than proper, letting me know that my nipples are erect through my t-shirt. When they land on my hand a muscle in his face jumps, and he blinks once before bringing his stare back to mine.

His foot reaches out, touching the first step, and I wait silently with my hand outstretched until he eventually reaches me, sliding his fingers along my palm in that way that's becoming oh so familiar, and welcome.

"Does this make you happy, Camilla?" he says, staring deep into my eyes.

Bringing my hand up to his cheek, I caress him feather soft, and nod soberly. Because I can't bring myself to speak. I don't want to talk. I want to feel. I want to live.

As if he understands my unspoken plea, Caleb tilts his head to mine at the same time he cradles my face with his hands, and brushes his lips against mine.

Stars explode within me, and butterflies dance in my belly as his hands leave my face to glide down my back and pull me all the way into him, wrapping his arms around me and hardening our kiss until my back arches beneath his touch.

When I part my lips and his tongue touches mine, I whimper, tilting my head even further and kissing him back just as eagerly as he is me.

As wild as it is; we share our first kiss cloaked in hesitancy, soaked in our feelings, drenched in the rain.

And I never want to leave.