Page 118 of Untouchable
Caleb felt the surge of cold air flood into the car interior and sat perfectly still. He watched Kelly’s pale, breathlessdesperation silently. A kind of dread started building in his gut, replacing his crisis response, which gradually faded when color bled back into Kelly’s face.
Caleb didn’t think. He couldn’t really process thought. Just knew something had happened that couldn’t be good.
After a few minutes, Kelly rolled the window back up. Gave him a fleeting, embarrassed look and shifted back to lean against the seat. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Felt sick all of a sudden.”
Caleb had known that and thought he knew why, but he was still trying to avoid admitting it. “Do you need something?”
Kelly was trembling now. Violently, helplessly. Her teeth were actually chattering. “No. I must have… eaten something bad.”
It was a flimsy excuse. And Caleb was only occasionally a fool.
He knew it wasn’t true.
He felt stupidly helpless all of a sudden. He had absolutely no idea what to do.
“Do you want something to drink?” he offered, feeling that same nauseating heaviness in his stomach and on top of it a tearing ache in his chest. She looked so small, so fragile, so incredibly miserable. And he had somehow made her so.
“I wouldn’t say no to a ginger ale or something,” she murmured, hugging her arms across her chest as if she was now cold.
It was the most bizarre shift of mood and experience. Caleb had been primally roused. Then in a frenzy of lust and dominance.
And now suddenly ill—almost as ill as she looked—and the air in the car was cold and thick and heavy.
Caleb leaned over to check the compartment in the car where there were usually some drinks stocked. “No ginger ale,” he said. “Just a couple of Cokes.”
“That would be great. Thanks.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Sorry about this.”
Caleb felt like someone had kicked him in the gut but didn’t say anything as he pulled out a can of Coke, opened it, and handed it to her.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, taking a sip and looking oddly young and vulnerable. Almost like a little girl, which made Caleb wonder how he’d been fucking her so roughly a few minutes ago.
He stared at her for another minute, trying to push all the unsettling experiences of this evening to the back of his mind.
The worst thing he’d ever done—years ago now—coming back to haunt him.
Kelly, ghost white and trembling, because she’d let him fuck her.
When she obviously hadn’t wanted him.
He shrugged off the jacket of his tux because he couldn’t stand how violently she was shivering, and he wrapped it around her shoulders, pulled her against him, and waited to see if she’d pull away in disgust or in fear.
She didn’t. She just huddled against him, shivering.
Caleb could feel his own stomach churning and tried to process something—anything—that was happening here.
After an extended stretch of dead silence, he finally forced out, “Why did you let me do that?”
Kelly gasped and turned to look up at him. “I wanted it,” she insisted, her eyes wide and innocent. “It was good. I just got… carsick or something.”
Another pitiful excuse. Not even worth countering.
“Why did you let me do that?”
She wasn’t looking at him now. She was staring straight in front of her, seeing… nothing, as far as he knew. “I wanted it,” she repeated blankly. “I asked for it.”
“Why?”
A long pause. Then, “I’d never had sex in the back of a car before.”
