He’s still toying with my clit, alternating between rubbing and dragging his nail across it.
That, the kiss, his hand at my throat…
An orgasm comes out of nowhere.
I groan into his mouth, and he takes it all. The orgasm, my noises, the kiss. My anger. My frustration.
His hand loosens on my throat, sliding down. His palm stops on my chest, over my heart.
“Well?” I manage.
His dark-blue eyes watch me. “It’s a start.”
He backs away, his gaze lingering on my face. It seems like he’s disappointed. I’m so glad there’s a wall at my back, because my legs would’ve given out otherwise.
He leaves. It isn’t what I was expecting, although it is what he promised.
Hate him, Margo, I tell myself. I pull up my pants slowly. My muscles ache.
Hair in place, hoodie straightened. Piece by piece, I reassemble myself. Caleb’s a hurricane force, and I’m supposed to withstand him, and everything he brings with him.
I’ve got to be stronger.
I walk into the kitchen and almost jump out of my skin.
“That was quite the performance,” Ian says, lifting his cup. He sways a bit. “I can see why he’s into you. The noises—”
“You were listening? Did you see—?”
He snorts and waves. “God, no. Caleb would’ve probably murdered me. Although I’m sure he realized I was there… I dropped a bottle.” He points to a shattered beer bottle on the floor in front of the fridge.
“I didn’t—”
“You were a little preoccupied.” He winks. “And wearing my hoodie, too. See?”
I roll my eyes. “See what?”
He raises the cup to his lips, then smirks at me. “You’re not the sheep everyone thinks you are. You’re devious.”
“Ugh.” I shake my head. “You said whatever I felt was a manipulation. You were right.”
“Was I?”
He’s drunk. He wobbles, then saunters toward me. “Best run off to your room before I do something I shouldn’t.”
My stomach flips. He would do something. Kick me, kiss me. I don’t want to know. I back into the counter, knocking over cups. I feel my way to the door, glaring while he laughs.
Once I’m out of the kitchen, I bolt.
He doesn’t chase me, but I run like he is. I unlock the door to his bedroom with shaky fingers and grab my bag, slipping into the pink bedroom. I shove the dresser in front of the door and exhale sharply.
He shouldn’t be able to get in. No one should.
I survey my handiwork, then flop back on the bed.
I’ve had a night.
My emotions are all over the place.
Pushing everything down, I crawl farther up the bed and curl into a ball. Sleep will cure everything. I hope.
6
Caleb
I let Margo have the night. I’m not an idiot—I know what today cost her.
But the important thing is that we’re on the same page. Neither of us are going anywhere. She needs to know how it feels to be systematically crushed.
And then we’ll see how well she puts herself back together.
“I was going to call you.” Theo leans against his car, and he straightens as I walk up the driveway. “But I figured you might be busy.”
I stifle a laugh. “You find Amelie?”
He follows me into Eli’s house. “She wasn’t home.”
I grunt.
“You found Margo.”
“Indeed I did.” I flick the lights on. I leave my shoes at the door and lead the way to the basement. “Why are you here?”
He shrugs. “Figured you might do something stupid.”
“Like?”
“Kill Ian.”
I chuckle. “I thought about it.”
“Everyone’s talking about how you kicked them out of Ian’s house,” he says, throwing himself down on my couch.
Margo and I sat there not too long ago. She was the last person down here besides me.
I shake my head. “We needed privacy.”
“That usually includes a room, you know? A locked door.”
“She’s turning into a ghost,” I say to my dresser. I yank out a clean t-shirt. “She needed reviving.”
“Is that what you were doing?” He scowls.
“I don’t think she even noticed it was a costume party.” I get changed, then flop down next to Theo. I stare at the television, which is currently off. “Video games?”
He shrugs. “Sure.”
I flick it on and hand him a remote. It isn’t the most intelligent thing for us to be doing. In fact, it kind of feels like a mind-suck after a while. I enjoy the empty feeling it gives me, so I let our playing time stretch from a few minutes into almost an hour.
I finally drop the controller and check the time. It’s past midnight.
“Do you ever sleep?” I ask Theo.
“Not really.”
I grunt. “Well, I do.”
He puts aside his controller and stands. “I can take a hint, Asher.”
He slaps my shoulder on his way out, and then…
Silence.
I lock myself in the bathroom, scowling at my reflection. I turn on the shower and wait for the steam to fog up the mirror. It only takes a minute, then I shed my clothes.
I hate looking at myself. My reflection. All I see is the scared little boy who Margo turned me into. Old rage works up my throat. I pound my fist on the counter.
I used to smash mirrors. My hands are covered in faint white scars, barely visible, from my time as an angry child. My mother once walked in on me punching the shit out of a mirror in the bathroom. She dragged me to the emergency room, where a doctor picked glass out of my knuckles for thirty minutes.
That was a hard lesson to learn.
Once I’m under the hot water, I relax. It’s almost hard to breathe with the amount of steam in the shower, and it reminds me of the way Margo’s pretty lips parted when I squeezed her throat. My dick gets hard at the thought of her.
I should’ve fucked her against the wall in Ian’s living room, even if the prick was eavesdropping around the corner. Especially because he was eavesdropping. I stroke myself, remembering the way she reacted to me tonight.
Afraid.
Turned on.
Fiery.
The way her pussy clenched around my fingers when she came.
Fuck.
I pump faster, desperate to relieve my growing tension. It’s the memory of her anger that does it. The way she fought. I groan and come, spilling on the tiles. Sparks zap through me.
This wasn’t supposed to be this way. I wasn’t supposed to let Margo get to me—again. But she has. I’ve let myself hate her for years, and it’s easy. What isn’t easy is admitting that every tear down her pretty face tightens my chest.
Bullshit.
I finish washing and get out, ignoring the mirror. Theo was a good distraction, but all I want to do is crawl into Margo’s bed. I’m torn between making her pay and protecting her from the shitstorm that’s brewing.
I could throw her out into the cold. It’s already in motion.
Dad used to relate Newton’s laws to human behavior. An object in motion will remain in motion unless acted upon by an outside force. His favorite was: Every force in nature has an equal and opposite force.