Page 73 of Dial L for Lawyer
"Neither of us was drunk." His voice is dangerously quiet. "On each other, maybe. But I remember every second. Every part of you and what we did. What you promised."
"You don't understand?—"
"Then explain it to me." He's fully awake now, eyes intense. "Because from where I'm sitting, the woman who rode my face and fucked me senseless is now acting like I've never seen her naked."
"You haven't! Not really. Not in daylight, not without—" I clutch the sheet tighter. "Last night was different."
"You're right. Last night you trusted me." He runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident. "What changed?"
"The sun came up!"
"And?"
"And you can see everything! Every flaw, every?—"
"Stop." His voice cuts through my rambling. "Just stop."
He gets out of bed—completely naked, completely comfortable—and walks around to my side. I try not to look at him, at the scratches I left on his back, at the way he moves like he owns the world.
"Look at me."
I don't.
"Serena. Look. At. Me."
I finally meet his eyes, and the intensity there makes me shiver.
"Do you think I'm stupid?" he asks quietly.
"What? No?—"
"Do you think I'm blind?"
"Caleb—"
"Because you seem to think I spent hours worshipping your body without actually seeing it. That I didn't feel every curve, every mark, every fucking inch of you." He leans down, hands braced on either side of me. "What kind of man do you think I am?"
"I don't?—"
"You think I didn't see you? When you were on top of me, the city lights on your skin? When I had you spread out on my bed?"His voice drops. "You think I'd fuck you in the dark then reject you in daylight?"
"Men have—" I stop, but it's too late.
"Men have what?" His voice is lethal now. "Who the fuck made you feel this way? Give me names, Serena and I’ll fucking ruin them."
I look away, but my pulse is hammering. "It doesn't matter."
He laughs, sharp and humorless. "It matters to me." He studies my death-grip on the sheet, something flaring hot behind his eyes. "Get in the shower."
"What?" I blink, thrown off by the non-sequitur.
"You heard me. Get in the shower. Sort your head out. Because in five minutes," he pauses, voice lowering into a promise, "I'm coming in there, and I'm going to show you exactly how fucking beautiful you are with all the lights on."
"But…Caleb…" My tongue feels too big for my mouth. I want to argue, or laugh, or throw the sheet over my face and suffocate, but instead I just stand there, gaping.
"Five minutes, Serena. And leave the sheet." He turns away, striding naked to his walk-in closet.
I stand at the edge of his bed, clutching the sheet, and try to convince my feet to move. My brain is a rolling thunderstorm of memory, every time someone told me I was 'almost' the whole package, every doctor who lifted my shirt to pinch skin and tsk, every boyfriend who did what they wanted in the dark and dressed in the morning without a glance in my direction.
