His dark eyes dart to his brother, and he jerks his chin, ordering Noah away.
I hear Noah shift on his feet. “You okay with this?” he asks me.
Without taking my eyes off Kaleb, I nod.
I’m sorry, Noah. Some lessons can only be learned the hard way.
Noah lets out a sigh and walks into the shop to join his father as Kaleb threads my fingers through his, leading me up the stairs. I’m sore, I’m tired, and I feel guilty, like I should be confused about a lot right now, but I’m not. All that matters is the next five minutes. The next hour. However long I’m with him.
Instead of leading me to his room, he pushes the door open to my room and pulls me inside, swinging me past him. I stumble as he releases my hand, stopping myself.
What the hell?
I spin around and look at him standing there. He looks to my bed, his eyes suddenly hard, and jerks his chin, ordering me.
What?
It takes a minute to figure out what he wants.
“Sleep?” I ask.
He wants me to go to bed?
“It’s barely nine o’clock,” I argue.
He points his finger at me and then the bed, ordering me again, this time with a scowl on his face.
Then he twists around and leaves the room, slamming the door shut behind him. What the fuck?
And then I hear it. Metal against metal. A bolt sliding. My eyes widen.
I run to the door, twisting the handle. “Kaleb?”
The door won’t open, and I pound with one palm and jiggle the handle with another hand. “What is this?” I shout. “Are you serious?”
I knew that was too good to be true. His calm downstairs was bullshit. He was pissed.
I yank and pull on the door, beating it with the hand of my healthy arm. “This isn’t funny!”
He bolted my door? There wasn’t a bolt on it this morning. When did he put it on? Is he kidding? Oh, my God.
“Jake!” I shout. “Noah!”
But they can’t hear me, because they’re in the shop.
I hear his footfalls down the stairs, but instead of tears, anger boils my blood. I’m going to fucking kill him. Jealous, immature, batshit son of a bitch. I’m going to kill him!
I kick and pound the door. “What if I have to go to the bathroom?” I bellow.
Ugh!
He circles the bed, not taking his eyes off her dark form under the covers. She exhausted herself. She bellowed for a fucking hour in here when he locked her door, and now she’s passed out.
Streams of moonlight glow across her floor, the silence in the house making the snowfall against the glass doors almost like a metronome. Tap, tap…tap. Tap, tap…tap.
He climbs on the bed, hovering over her on his hands and knees as she sleeps.
Thankfully, his father and brother never knew what happened. They were in the shop, far away from her little tantrum, but even if they weren’t, he was ready if they decided to come to her rescue.
He’s sick of her slutting around. Fucking him today in the barn, letting his father touch her and kiss her tonight, and then about to give it up for his brother when his back is turned.
He’s sick of seeing her smile when she works on her dumb shit in the shop.
Sick of her excited by the snow or happy when she feeds the horses.
Sick of seeing her hair fall across her cheek as she reads at the dinner table or how she twists her lips to the side when she’s concentrating on an assignment.
Sick of her cries at night and how pathetic she sounds during her nightmares.
He stares down at her, cocking his head as her breathing turns shallow and she fists her shirt up at her collar. Her face tenses, and she jerks. The nightmare is starting.
Leaning in, he brushes her nose with his, closing his eyes and feeling her panting and how her body tenses and flexes as she dreams. Her brow creases, and her chin trembles, and part of him wants to do what he always does. Take her in his arms, calm her, and put her back to sleep right.
But this isn’t who she is when she’s awake. She’s mean, and he’s done forgetting that.
Sinking his mouth to hers, he kisses her, her whimper disappearing down his throat as her body tenses and then eases. He almost laughs. He could be anyone right now. He’ll drop her panties and slip inside her, and she won’t even open her eyes to tell which one it is, because it doesn’t really matter.
He trails kisses along her cheek, her eyes still closed, not awake yet. He hovers his lips over her skin, moving his mouth but unable to voice the words. Pretty little cunt.
He grinds on her once. That’s what she is. Cunt.
Climbing off her, he watches her face as he gently pulls her shorts down. He drops them on the floor and comes back to hover over her, watching her face as he slides his hand inside her fucking panties.