Page 37 of Dial L for Lawyer
"What?" The word is barely a whisper.
I lean in, slow enough that she could stop me, close enough that I can see the sun creating gold flecks in her brown eyes, the way her lashes flutter.
"That I didn't kiss you that night when you asked me to."
She goes completely still. Even her breathing stops. Her fingers find the door edge behind her, gripping tight enough to turn her knuckles white. I can see her pulse hammering at the base of her throat, wild and fast.
I shift closer, eliminating another inch between us. Now we're sharing air, nose to nose, and I can feel the warmth of her breath against my mouth. She smells like vanilla and coffee and the faint sweetness of the iced tea we had with lunch. I can practically taste her already, and my whole body goes tight with want.
"You said it was because I'd been drinking," she whispers, and her breath ghosts across my lips.
Every muscle in my body screams at me to close that final distance. To take what I've been craving since that night I first saw her. She's right here, lips parted, eyes half-closed, practically begging for it.
"You were." My voice is gravel. "And you deserved better than a drunken mistake you'd regret in the morning."
Her eyes search mine, and I see the moment she understands. The moment she realizes I wanted her then as much as I want her now.
"I'm sober now."
Christ. The way she says it—half invitation, half challenge. My control frays to threads.
"Yes." I lift my hand from the car roof, bringing it to her face. My thumb brushes across her cheekbone, feather-light, and she closes her eyes, leaning into the touch. "But now you're upset. Scared. Vulnerable."
Her eyes flutter open at that, confused and dark with want. I can feel the heat radiating from her body, see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. It would take one tilt of my head to own her mouth, to ruin her lipstick, to brand her with me. I could, and she’d let me. Christ, she’d let me.
Instead, I force myself to step back. Just an inch. Just enough that we're not sharing breath anymore. It feels like ripping off my own skin.
"When this happens—and it will happen—it needs to be your clear-headed decision." The words physically hurt to say. "Not because you're grateful or overwhelmed, but because you want me as much as I want you."
Her eyes flutter fully open now, searching my face. There's confusion there, and frustration, and something else that looks like hunger.
"Caleb—"
My name on her lips nearly undoes me. I step back completely, putting real distance between us even though every cell in my body protests.
"I'll call you tonight," I say, and my voice sounds wrecked even to my own ears.
She blinks hard, then ducks into the sedan. I watch it pull away, hands fisted against the urge to chase after it.
The instant she's out of sight, I check my watch. Ten minutes until I meet Bennett. Just enough time to splash cold water on my face and remember how to think with my brain instead of my dick. Fuck.
CHAPTER 12
Serena
I’m still vibrating from Caleb’s touch when I collapse into the backseat of his car, breath short, body buzzing like I’ve been set on fire from the inside out. My skin still burns where he touched me, my lips still tingle from his almost-kiss, and there's a persistent ache low in my belly that has nothing to do with stress. I immediately open the group chat.
Me:
Emergency wine summit. Can you guys meet me at Lockwood in an hour?
The car pulls into traffic, and I stare out the window without seeing anything. All I can think about is the heat of Caleb's body caging me in, the rough edge to his voice, the way his thumb felt against my cheek—like he was studying the texture of my skin.
My phone buzzes immediately.
Layla:
Everything OK?? Is this about the meeting?
