Save Me: a Stepbrother Romance Page 6

I hopped on faster than the Flash and wrapped my arms around Cal’s chest, mounting the bike behind him. He helped me find my seat. His rough hands slid along my legs and grasped my thighs, pulling them apart to demonstrate how to sit behind him without falling off. I squeezed up against him as his strong hands held my body, fitting me into him like a puzzle piece. My chest pressed against his back, and my face was nuzzled in his neck again.

  God, he smelled so good.

  “I knew I’d get between your legs,” he murmured in my ear, turning his head just enough that I could see the cocky smile.

  I pinched his arm, attempting to scold him but shocked by how nice his warm muscle felt underneath my hand. He chuckled, and the sound reverberated through his chest under my grasp. It was almost as good as the vibration between my legs.

  No, no, no, don’t think about that! Especially not with Cal Gatlin!

  I chased the thought of my mind as Jess left and we peeled out of the driveway behind her.

  The game had already started by the time we arrived, so most people were distracted. I did catch a few double-takes as Cal pulled in on his bike with my arms wrapped around him.

  Cal chuckled again. He was doing that a lot lately.

  “You have admirers, Sis.”

  “More like rubberneckers. They’re watching the train wreck.”

  “You think we’re a train wreck?”

  “No,” I said too quickly. Though I had to admit. Even if this train was wrecking, I never wanted to get off.

  Cal and I hopped off, and we followed Jess to her favorite spot to watch the game. I felt his warm hand rest at the small of my back as he led me to the bleachers. Electric sparks shocked my body wherever his skin met mine. I closed my eyes hard, praying he didn’t notice.

  Don’t think about that, don’t think about that, don’t think about that.

  “Ooh, hold on, I think I left my keys in the car,” Jess said, slapping her forehead. “You two go sit down without me, I’ll be right back.”

  “Is she really sure she wants to leave you alone with me?” Cal asked, leaning over to whisper in my ear. His warm breath rolled down my neck in a delicious way. Goosebumps rose on my skin. “Isn’t she afraid for her friend, the good girl? Doesn’t she know I’m bad? Everybody else here does.”

  I rolled my eyes, but when I glanced back at him, his gaze was lingering a little too long on my ass. I lost my breath for a moment. Not out of fear. Out of something I refused to admit.

  “Gatlin, are you checking me out?” I squeaked.

  “Can’t blame me. Jesus, Sis, I can’t believe you’ve had that dress hidden from me for so long.”

  “Please. I’m a dork. I’m not half as beautiful as those girls you’re always chasing after school.”

  “I think you’re incredibly beautiful.” He thought about it for a moment, considering his next words. “And fucking sexy.”

  I shivered.

  No, no, no. Stop!

  “You don’t have to spare my feelings, Gatlin. I’m fine being a dork.”

  Cal’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sparing anything. Look over there.”

  I glanced over. A huddle of freshman boys that had been staring at us immediately turned red and looked away, muttering to themselves.

  “So what?” I asked, irritated. “More freshmen gawking at the train wreck.”

  “It’s not me they’re looking at, Sis.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He looked at me like I was a moron. “You have to know what you do to men. You have a dress called Maneater.”

  “It’s a joke,” I said in a small voice.

  “Well, it ain’t a joke that every boy in this school would do anything to get under that skirt.” He crossed his arms and looked out into the game evenly. “They don’t stare at us because we’re a train wreck. They stare because they want you. And because they can’t have you—because you’re mine.”

  “Please. That’s not even close to true.”

  You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine.

  Cal looked over at me, his eyes searching mine. “Whether you believe it or not, Sis, it’s true. You’re fucking beautiful.”

  I opened my mouth to say something back, but I couldn’t think straight. Cal Gatlin thought I was beautiful.

  My lower lip quivered for a moment as I wracked my brain for any coherent thought, and Cal’s gaze floated downward and fixed on it. He reached forward and ran his thumb along my bottom lip, leaving me paralyzed.

  “You know how many boys would do anything to bite that lip?”

  Cal Gatlin was touching me.

  Holy shit.

  But it didn’t feel wrong like when Nate touched me. It felt safe. And it felt warm, and it felt… sexy. I wanted him.

  Cal looked deeply into my eyes. His fingers caressed my jawline, and his lips parted. This was it. I could feel it. I wanted to kiss him. I was going to kiss him. I was going to open myself up to Cal Gatlin and taste him.

  Everything happened in slow motion: the electric touch of his fingers pulling my jaw towards him, the expectant opening of my mouth, the warmth of his breath rolling down my neck…

  “Gatlin, what the fuck do you think you’re doing to my girlfriend?”

  The sound of Nate’s voice broke us apart. Cal’s hands dropped, more out of confusion than fear (as if Cal could ever be afraid of Nate). We turned.

  Nate was marching down the sidewalk toward us, his shoulders thrown back and his glare mad as hell. I noticed Vanessa Miller waiting worriedly in the distance. She was wearing his varsity jacket. My stomach turned.

  It was true, wasn’t it? Nate really was fucking around on me with her. It was one thing to hear it, and it was another to believe it. But it was nothing compared to being faced with the evidence firsthand and being forced to really feel it as the whole situation dawns on you.

  I was going to be sick.

  “Ain’t doing anything to your girlfriend. She looks fine where she is.” He nodded towards Vanessa. His voice was bored and flat, but I could feel his grip tightening on my hand. It wasn’t a dangerous or painful one, like the grip Nate always had on me. It was protective.

  “Fuck off, Gatlin, and get your hands off of her.”

  “Why? Afraid she’s found someone who gives a shit about her? You’re right.”

  Nate marched up to us, and Cal subtly pushed me behind him, shielding me with his chest. What was Nate thinking, getting in Cal’s face like that? He was a moron, but not that stupid. Especially after what had happened earlier in the cafeteria. He had to know that there was no way he could beat Cal. So why was he provoking him so much?

  “Please, don’t,” I said, touching his arm. Cal’s arms dropped just as quickly as they had the first time. It felt strange, being listened to. It felt like I mattered.

  Of course, like everything else in our relationship, Nate had to ruin that moment of peace too.

  “Fuck off, Natalie,” he spat.

  “Don’t fucking talk to her like that!”

  Cal dove forward with a punch that connected with a sickening smack and landed Nate flat on his back.

  “Cal!” I cried. Vanessa Miller was running forward now, too, and Jess was grabbing my arm to pull me back. Cal looked like he was intent on murdering him, and God, I couldn’t have that. I couldn’t have Cal be taken away from me like that. I couldn’t let him do that to himself, not for my sake at least.

  Nate was on the ground, struggling to pick himself up, and Cal lurched forward. Before he could beat the life out of him, I grabbed his arm again.

  His hand grasp went limp, like he was afraid of hurting me. Another strange moment as the feeling of safety washed over me—it felt like I was worth not hurting.

  “Please, Cal. Let’s just go.”

  I suddenly hated Maneater and the dumbass revenge plot that made me wear her here. And I hated that I had seen Vanessa Miller wearing Nate’s jacket, and I hated that I hated Vanessa Miller when I should feel sorry for her, and I hated
that the people in the bleachers surrounding us were beginning to glance over and whisper to each other.

  My grasp tightened on Cal’s arm, and he groaned.

  “Sorry, Nat,” Cal growled. “I had to.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  His shoulders heaved, and his hands were still balled into fists. His veins were popping against the muscles of his shoulders and neck, and it looked like it took every ounce of strength for him to not lurch forward again and murder Nate where he was still lying shell shocked on the sidewalk.

  “You didn’t fucking have to, and you know it. Jesus, Jess, go start the car. We have to get out of here.”

  “I’m sorry, Nat—”

  “Don’t. Let’s just go. We have to get out before someone catches you.”

  I steered him away from the scene, praying to God that Furst was nowhere in sight. This was exactly the kind of thing he would love: an excuse to get Cal out of school and in a jail cell. And I wasn’t stupid enough to think that Nate would forgive it out of the kindness of his heart, or even out of the fear of Cal coming back for revenge.

  I kept a hold on Cal’s strong arm as I pulled him away, back toward where we had parked the car and bike. He followed, keeping one hand on the small of my back. The scuffling of boots followed behind us, and Nate shouted out at us one last time:

  “Where do you think you’re going with my girlfriend, Gatlin?”

  I whirled on him, finally pissed enough to bite back.

  “I’m not your fucking girlfriend,” I spat, grabbing Cal’s arm as Jess steered us away. “And I never fucking will be again.”

  The phone had been ringing all night. And now it was switched on silent and thrown under my bed, where I couldn’t hear or see the dozens of missed calls piling up. The only sound in my bedroom was the soft creaking of the door as Cal crept in, and then the whisper of the sheet as he slipped into bed and wrapped his arms around me.

  I rested my head on his shoulder. I was too worn out to fight the need to be with him. Besides—now that I was out of Maneater and into a camisole and pajama pants, there wasn’t much sex appeal to worry about.

  “I told you,” he growled, his voice full of a repressed fury. “He’s a fucking idiot. I should have beaten the moron out of him when I had the chance.”

  “Don’t.”

  “I’m sorry, Nat.” He nuzzled my face into his neck. “I wish I could fix it. I wish I could fix everything for you.”

  I did too. I pulled back to look at his face, still glistening with sweat from the near fight. I ran my thumb along the scar on his jaw, and his eyes closed.

  “Are you alright?” I asked, tracing another scar. He had been in so many fights. I wondered if anyone had ever been this close to him without hitting him.

  “I’m always alright when I’m with you, Nat.”

  I searched his face again. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but I knew what I wanted. Because there, in my bedroom, alone at midnight with the moonlight pouring over his face, he had never looked so beautiful. The dark five o’clock shadow on his chin, the tattoos that laced across his collarbone, the deep color of his eyes burning like embers.

  Maybe I missed Nate, maybe I needed someone to tell me they loved me, or maybe I just didn’t know what else to do. But before I could think enough to stop it, I leaned forward, closing my eyes and opening my mouth for him.

  He froze.

  “Nat, what are you doing—”

  “Do you want me?”

  “I—” his voice choked again. “Natalie?”

  There was a strange note in his voice. It was hesitant, but something was burning underneath it. He pulled away, but I grabbed his arms and held them where they were wrapped around me. He was ten times stronger than I would ever be, but he immediately relented, as if he could never resist me.

  “Tell me. Do you want me? I have to know. It’s killing me.”

  Cal swallowed hard. His lips and throat moving so intimately were mesmerizing.

  “I want you so much it hurts me,” he whispered.

  “Then kiss me.”

  “Natalie,” he breathed, his full lips parting just so slightly. I could taste his breath, pulling it into my own mouth with a sigh: the faint mint of toothpaste and the warmth of his throat. I could see his tongue move against his teeth just beyond the part of his lips, and the thickness of his bottom lip invited me to bite it. I wanted to. I wanted it in my mouth. I wanted him inside me.

  “I shouldn’t,” he choked.

  “You will,” I answered.

  I leaned up and caught his lower lip between my teeth. Something about that set him off. Before I could resist, I was on my back.

  Cal’s mouth fell on mine, hard and fast. No longer was this the soft, sentimental Cal that held me a few minutes ago. This was Cal on fire, desperate for me. His hands grabbed my waist, pulling me up against him so that nothing separated our bare skin. His lips brushed across my jaw, settling on my mouth and drawing the breath out of me with a kiss.

  And it wasn’t just a kiss. His arms crushed me to him, and his fingers dug into my thigh, taking handfuls of me wherever he could get them. His hips rocked against mine, hard, hungry, and insistent. I could feel myself growing wet, and almost as if Cal could smell the pheromones in the air, his kiss became more desperate. His fingers laced through my hair

  I broke away from his mouth for a minute and moaned.

  “Cal.”

  His body shuddered.

  Then it froze. He broke away from the kiss.

  “Oh, God,” he whispered. His expression was horrified as he glanced down at our bodies, only the thin layer of clothing separating them. “Oh God, Nat, I’m sorry.”

  “Cal?”

  He pulled away, panting. His eyes were wide. “I wasn’t thinking. Jesus, Nat.”

  “Kiss me,” I moaned, aching for the return of his weight on top of me. “I need you to kiss me again. Please.”

  “No.”

  “What?” I asked, breathless. I didn’t have time to think. I needed more of him. I opened my mouth and leaned in again, desperate to taste him.

  He pushed me away. “I said no. I can’t.”

  I fell back onto my ass on the bed, my hands shaking. No? He didn’t want me? Then why had he kissed me in the first place? I could feel the tears welling up again, despite all my will to crush them back.

  “Then what the fuck was that?” I demanded. My voice was getting raspy with the pain. “Why did you kiss me? Was I just another conquest?”

  Cal gaped at me. His expression grew furious.

  “Jesus, Natalie, is that what you really think of me?”

  “If I’m wrong, why won’t you kiss me again?”

  “Because…. Ugh.” He shook his head and let it fall into his hands. “Jesus, Nat, you have no idea what you do to men. Of course I want you. Anyone with a working cock would want you.”

  My body reacted to the way the word cock passed his lips, and I ached to taste him again.

  “Then why not?” I whispered, leaning forward to touch him. His hands shook as my fingers traced a tattoo on his bicep, and his eyes sank closed. He wants you, he wants you, he wants you, the voice said.

  “Don’t do that,” he choked.

  “What? This?” I continued to caress him, tilting my head and looking into his eyes, searching for an answer.

  When his eyes opened, they were burning and hungry again. Before I could react, he grabbed my shoulders and pushed me on the bed. His knee pressed down between my legs, separating them, and his hands grabbed each ankle and pulled them around him. His intense gaze burned into my eyes as he grabbed my face and brought it to his, kissing me so passionately I couldn’t breathe. My fingers raked through his hair, forcing his mouth to mine.

  I gasped against him, parting my lips, and his tongue slipped into my mouth. His hips grinded against mine, and his fingers dug into my thigh. He pulled me so tightly against him that I could barely breath, and I loved it. The warmth of his
skin on mine and the taste of his breath in my mouth made me starved for him.

  He pulled away for a second, leaving me gasping underneath him. His gaze was on fire.

  “This, Natalie,” he growled, grabbing my hand and pushing it against the crotch of his jeans. I could feel his cock straining against them, hard and throbbing. I moaned, letting my eyes close, drinking in the sensation of it underneath my palm. Jesus, he was big. “This is what you do to me. Do you know how fucking much I want to tear off your panties and show you how much I want you? How much I need you?”