All Things Wicked Page 14

  The rain fell over them both, bounced from the wide fronds around them as he carried her through the minuscule jungle.

  She didn’t know how, when, but Juliet found herself laid out on the pallet beneath the makeshift blue tent. The blankets were soft beneath her, clinging to her wet skin.

  Caleb knelt between her upraised knees, hair dripping into his eyes. With the jagged scars curving over his jaw, he looked dangerous. Wild and untamed. His eyes blazed in blue fire.

  His lips settled into a tight, faintly crooked line.

  She sat up, reaching for the hem of her shirt as he opened his mouth. A thrill rippled through her when whatever he’d intended to say caught somewhere between mind and desire as she whipped the wet fabric over her head. Water splattered the canvas roof, but he didn’t notice.

  He stared at her, at her full breasts and tattooed bar code. At her dusky nipples, puckered and standing proudly to attention.

  His hands seemed frozen in mid-air. Cords stood out in his neck; visible signs of a faltering control.

  His eyes devoured her. Feasted as if she were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  “Juliet,” he rasped.

  Trembling, aching, she touched her own nipple with a finger, jolting as the sensitive nub lanced an arrow of liquid need straight to her loins. He threw back his head, groaning.

  “Don’t,” he said sharply, all pretense of restraint fading. “Juliet, you need—”

  Anger slid through veins already molten with wanting. Juliet pinched her nipple between two fingers. “I need you,” she said, and moaned as the sweet sensation filled her skin. Her mind. “You asked me to tell you.”

  “God help me.”

  She reached for her skirt. He stopped her, grabbing her wrist in his scarred hand and staring down at that small connection as if he’d never seen anything like it. His eyes narrowed. His throat worked; air or words or regrets, she didn’t know.

  Then, slowly, he let her go. Finger by finger. “More,” he whispered.

  Juliet smiled. She reached for the end of her skirt, pulling up the hem bit by bit and reveling in the way his eyes followed the motion. They burned an unholy blue, like fire at its very heart. Searing. All but tangible.

  As the fabric cleared her thighs, he locked his jaw.

  The skirt pooled between her legs, rough against her sensitive flesh, and Juliet couldn’t help it. She pressed the material against herself. The sound she made evoked an answering sound from him, rough and wanting; a warning, a four-letter plea.

  She looked down at her hand, pale against the dark skirt, and her hips jerked. Once.

  It was enough.

  Caleb curled his fingers into the end of the skirt and pulled hard enough that the waistband stretched. The material slid from her legs, tore out of her grasp, and left her naked to the night air.

  Naked to his voracious study.

  For a moment, uncertainty flashed through her. She raised her hands, but he grabbed her wrists, once more tugging them above her head. She leaned back as he guided her, her back cradled by the blankets, her wrists locked above her head.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured, dropping his face to nuzzle one tender breast. His lips rasped across her skin and she shuddered. “I never imagined—” He caught himself with a harsh chuckle. “Hell, I imagined. Every. Fucking. Night.” His lips closed over her nipple with the last word, and she arched off the blankets, crying out.

  She didn’t know what it was about him. About them together. Need, surprise, elation; she felt it all in his arms.

  He laved at the sensitive peak, little jolts of electricity shooting through her nerves with every flick of his tongue. Every graze of his teeth.

  Not to be forgotten, Caleb moved to her other nipple and bit down. Hard enough that she jolted out of her skin. Thunder stole her wild sound, but he murmured approval, even as the rest of her writhed beneath him. Ignored.

  “Pl-please,” she gasped.

  “Are you lying to me?”

  Her eyes squeezed shut. His hot breath warmed the underside of her left breast. “No,” she managed. “I’m—oh, God.” His tongue slid over the faintly raised lines of her tattoo, sending another jolt through her.

  Suddenly, his weight was gone, and Juliet was able to move her arms. She elbowed herself up, shaking back her wet hair, and watched as he shrugged out of his shirt. He tossed it over his shoulder. Muscles gleamed in the sporadic light, edged in hard lines and jagged furrows.

  The shirt splatted against the wet ground, ruined and forgotten, but Caleb hesitated. Her stare fixed on his scars.

  His expression hardened.

  Juliet reached out a shaking hand. The skin around his eyes flinched as the tip of her index finger traced the most lurid of the ropy ridges at his side. His hands closed painfully over hers. “This is what I am,” he said, his voice taut with effort. Masked. “It’s what I’ve become.”

  A traitor. Branded for life. The knowledge sizzled between them. Unspoken. Unable to be ignored.

  Cautiously, using his grip on her hand for leverage, Juliet eased closer. Her free hand splayed over the old wounds. Covered them, her soft palm to his rough skin.

  He shuddered.

  Slowly, shivering as droplets of water dripped from her hair and rolled down her skin, she traced the scarred nodules over his ribs. Down his side, across his hip.

  Wordlessly, she twisted her trapped hand free and slid it up his other side. Rough in one palm and slick, smooth in the other. Muscles bunched. The mouthwatering wall of his abdominal muscles rippled.

  Could she accept this?

  Accept him?

  “Jules—”

  “Yes,” she said fiercely, looking up. His gaze met hers, and in it, she saw everything he had never let her see. Caution. Uncertainty. That guardedness he held so close, and deeply buried, mired in shades of blue, something fierce.

  Something desperate.

  His expression softened. “God help us both,” he whispered, and bent an arm around the small of her back.

  Chapter Eleven

  Caleb’s hand flattened over her chest, pressed her down, pushed her until she lay back against the blankets, naked and damp and shivering.

  Only part was from cold. Raw lust clung to every nerve, dragged reckless nails over her skin. He bent over her, powerful arms braced, and searched her face.

  Juliet bit her upper lip. Rain and thunder and the slam of her heartbeat filled the wordless tension between them, stretched thin and fragile.

  She held her breath.

  The scarred corner of his mouth twitched, and he lowered his lips to her chin. Nipped, hard enough to make her exhale on a gasp, before tracing a warm, wet line down her throat.

  She tilted her head back. Stretched languorously beneath his slow, thorough exploration. He kissed each breast, tongue flicking over her nipples with quick, maddening precision, and trailed across her navel. She squirmed as that heat coiled tighter in her belly. As if her blood had been replaced by raw need, by fire and something smooth and silken.

  His breath fanned the brown curls between her legs, and she twined her fingers through her own hair, eyes squeezed shut.

  Caleb chuckled.

  Before she could do anything, say anything—put him in his place, beg for more—he buried his mouth between her legs and sent her reeling for the stars. His slick tongue parted the folds of her swollen flesh, swept over the hardened, nerve-shattering nub of her clit. She gasped, arching, knees falling farther apart and he grabbed her thighs, holding her open. Exposed.

  She didn’t dare open her eyes. Thunder rocked the sky, but all she could hear was her own heartbeat, fast and loud, and her own cries. They got faster and tighter, mimicking the gathering pressure between her legs, jarred loose by every flick of his tongue. His lips closed over her, sucked hard, and her hips jerked so fast that she slapped her hands over her mouth.

  The lightest touch made her tremble, legs locked tightly and her head thrashing. Caleb dragg
ed the wet, flat side of his tongue across the cleft of her body and slid a finger inside her.

  Her hips shot off the makeshift bed, forcing Caleb to flatten his free hand against her abdomen to keep her still. Juliet shook her head, all but sobbing with the mounting pressure, hips twisting, but he didn’t let her up. Over and over he licked her, clever tongue and wicked fingers working her, plunging in and out of her body until she shuddered.

  “Please,” she begged, “please, Caleb, please!”

  He raised his eyes, eyes glinting. Two broad fingers penetrated her sensitive flesh, sliding into her. Sliding out. “Do you want me?”

  “Yes!”

  “Now?”

  Her own hands slid down her body. Seized her breasts in each palm and squeezed. Wild sensations shot through her. His eyes narrowed. Glittered dangerously.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Beautiful,” he managed, and shucked his jeans with a few deft pulls. He crawled up her body, warm skin to the throbbing mass of sensitized nerves that was all she had left. Every touch, every press, every brush of his body left her that much closer. That much hungrier.

  Caleb positioned himself at the entrance to her body and paused.

  Alarms flickered.

  “Wait!” she cried, and he froze.

  His expression closed, shuttered as neatly as if she’d pulled a switch, but she grabbed his arm in one hand and wildly patted the blankets with the other. “Don’t you dare,” she managed, gritting her teeth with the effort to focus. “I have a— Somewhere, damn it.”

  “Jules—”

  “Here!” Crowing with triumph, she found the discarded foil and held it up between two fingers. Her gaze met his over the corrugated edge.

  His filled with laughter.

  Despite the need curling through her, singing in her blood, her body relaxed. Her lips twitched. “Well, it’s just . . . You know.”

  He took the packet from her fingers, cupped her hand, and pressed a kiss to her palm. Need slammed hard and fast and bone-rattlingly deep.

  Need, and something else that curled into her heart and ached.

  Caleb tore the packet open, unrolled the rubber over the erection thrust thick and hard from a thatch of golden hair, and grinned at her expression.

  “You look like you’re going to eat me,” he said, raw approval in his eyes.

  “Give me the chance,” Juliet replied. She sat up, breasts heavy and swollen and so sensitive that even the air whispering across them made her gasp in wonder.

  His eyebrows climbed as she crawled across the small space. Knitted with intense concentration as she braced her hands on his shoulders. The deluge continued over their heads, wave upon wave of thunder and rain, but she didn’t care.

  There was only him. Caleb Leigh.

  Soothsayer.

  Hers. For now.

  Straddling his waist, she thrilled as his hands settled on her hips. His breath caught in his throat as the center of her body slid over his erection. She was wet, pulsing with her arousal, and he shuddered.

  Taking him in hand, she positioned his cock just right, slid closer until just the very tip of him nudged at her swollen flesh.

  It was going to drive her mad.

  But not before he broke.

  He growled something rough and low, fingers digging into her hips, and pulled her tight, flush against him, impaling her with a sudden thrust.

  She threw her head back on a savage, exultant cry.

  “Yes,” he sighed, muscles standing out from neck to thigh. His arms bulged as he raised her again, tightened as he guided her back to him; each time filling her more and more, deeper and thicker and so tight, she gasped with each thrust.

  She didn’t have control here. She hadn’t thought she would. Instead, he guided her, pushed and pulled her body, eyes feasting as she arched her back in overwhelming delight. Her breasts glistened with sweat, and he dropped his mouth to taste them.

  Harder, faster, he let her ride him but set the pace, his jaw tense. The pressure built slowly this time, circling out from the point where their bodies joined into a rippling, pulsing tide of pleasure and greed and desperate desire.

  His hands swept up her back, but she didn’t need his help anymore as their hips rocked in tandem, bodies slamming together. It swept up through her knees, planted on the rain-dampened blankets, filled her belly. Her chest, her mind. Over and over he stroked himself with her, thrust against her, into her, fingers curling into her hair and holding her still as he stared up into her face.

  Love me, she thought, and came apart in his hands. It exploded through her, a detonation of nerves and feeling and raw emotion, leaving her skin tingling and blood singing as her breath left her body on a long, desperate moan.

  His muscles surged under her hands, shoulders rising, and he shoved her back to the blankets so fast that her body had no time to register the change. Harder, faster he pumped into her, eyes glittering, face drawn taut. Without warning, while she still clenched and pulsed around him, his hips jerked, lost rhythm, and pinned hers. He groaned her name, gasping on it, muscles jerking hard as he struggled to keep his own weight while his features hardened, reddened with effort.

  With release.

  For a long moment, only the slam of her heart filled the rush of rain hitting the greenery outside the open tent.

  Juliet’s eyes drifted closed. Her breath evened with effort.

  Then caught again as Caleb’s weight shifted away. He withdrew from her gently. She bit her upper lip.

  Was this where the apologies started?

  Suddenly, his weight settled beside her again, naked shoulder to legs, and he curled an arm around her tightly.

  Tears pricked at her eyes.

  She kept them tightly closed. His head settled on the pillow beside her, his cheek nestled into her hair, and Juliet didn’t dare breathe. What if he realized what it was he was doing?

  What if he reverted back to ice?

  Caleb’s breath fanned her cheek, and she shifted. His arm tightened, and the silence between them grew. Stretched until it seemed as tense as a rubber band on the verge of breaking.

  Juliet stared blankly into the dark. The rain beat down on the wide leaves, sprinkling water everywhere as the slender stalks snapped back with every heavy raindrop.

  She took a slow, deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

  Against her back, the line of Caleb’s body went rigid.

  She forged on hurriedly, getting it out, forcing the words from her aching chest before he could leave, make her look at him, hell, anything. “I blamed you for the coven and I’m sorry. I know they used me—Curio used me,” she amended bitterly. “I know I wasn’t anything more than a . . . an energy boost for them. I’m sorry I tried to kill you, I’m sorry I— Oh, God.” Her voice shook. “I’m so sorry I stabbed you.”

  Caleb rose over her on one elbow, his features a hard silhouette in the dark. But his fingers were gentle as he traced the shape of her lower lip. “Don’t apologize,” he said. Rough, low, it all but vibrated with an intensity she didn’t understand. “Don’t ever apologize to me. I don’t— Damn it.”

  As if pushed, as if touching her burned, he rolled away. Reached for his jeans, every motion sharp and angry.

  She squeezed her eyes shut before the tears could start.

  Fabric rustled. For a long moment, only the whisper of clothing donned and the steady pitter-patter of rain filled the empty, aching silence.

  Then, Caleb’s voice. “Juliet.” Quiet, again, that damned calm she loathed so much.

  Juliet’s mouth twisted. The lingering surge of ecstasy, the endorphins released from the orgasm that had rocked her down to her soul, faded under a sweeping veil of . . . anger? Disappointment?

  Exhaustion.

  She was too tired for anything else.

  Like she hadn’t seen this coming.

  “Go, then,” she said, rolling over as if she could wipe away his presence by not looking at him. She crossed her arm ov
er her chest, fighting back a raw, shameful surge of tears.

  “Jules,” he said, insistent. His hand curved over her bare hip.

  She sat up, knocking his hand away, and opened her mouth to lash out, to hurt him; hell, anything that didn’t involve hating herself for making another bad choice.

  His scarred hand slipped over her mouth.

  His eyes traced the dark foliage around them, narrowed. Only then did she realize that his body was locked down, leashed taut.

  Ready.

  Fear slipped in behind anger. Squeezed her heart with icy fingers. She reached for her discarded clothes, then jumped when he shook his head. “There,” he whispered, pointing to the corner of her pillow.

  Her jeans and sports bra were folded beside it, rumpled during their lovemaking, but clean. A sweatshirt lay nearby. Not hers, but in better condition than anything else she had.

  “Get dressed,” he whispered, tense and barely a sound. He did the same, not a single motion wasted. “Something’s wrong.”

  “How can you tell?”

  He shook his head again, finger to his lips, and slid out from under the canvas tent.

  She was just pulling down the dark purple sweatshirt when she heard it. Voices. Muffled and trying to be quiet, but clear. He got dressed quickly.

  When Caleb reached under the canvas, beckoning, she slid her hand into his.

  He helped her out, tugging her into a crouch. “I want you to wait for my signal, then run to the house.”

  Juliet blanched. “What if they’re already there?”

  The look in Caleb’s eye promised more than murder. “Stay with me, then. Stay close, and do what I say.”

  As if she ever got the chance to do anything else.

  Juliet nodded, her eyes wide in the dark.

  The voices didn’t come again, or maybe she couldn’t hear it over the steady drum of rain and thunder and her own frightened heartbeat. Caleb remained crouched, making his way down the small path, her hand tight in his.