Chapter 149
Elena's POV
My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it.
"We could... sleep together. Like before." The words came out smaller than I intended, almost a whisper.
Caleb lifted his head. Those eyes caught the light for just a second, something flickering in them before his expression smoothed back into calm.
"You don't have to worry," I added quickly, heat climbing up my neck. "I won't—I'm not going to do anything to you."
A sound escaped him. Not quite a laugh, but close. "What could you possibly do to me?"
I bit my lip. "So... will you come?"
He stood without a word. I turned toward the guest room, hyperaware of his footsteps behind me, the shift of air as he followed. Every step made my pulse kick faster.
Once inside, I locked the door behind us, then immediately felt stupid for it. The small bedside lamp cast a warm glow that made the space feel smaller, more intimate than it should.
The bed was huge. Big enough that when Caleb settled on the far edge, his back to me, it felt like an ocean stretched between us. I lay down on my side, staring at the rigid line of his shoulders, the way he held himself tense, like he was bracing against something.
Two feet. Maybe more. The distance felt wrong.
I didn't understand. He'd agreed to this. So why was he trying to disappear into the mattress?
"Are you upset?" I asked softly.
Silence. Then: "No."
"You haven't really talked since we got back."
More silence. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, careful. "If Vivian takes that job in Starport... what's your plan?"
My breath caught. So that was it. He thought I'd leave with her.
I shifted closer, the sheets rustling too loud in the quiet. "I'm not going anywhere."
He didn't respond. Didn't move.
Frustrated now, I slid across the gap between us. When he finally turned to face me, his eyes were dark and unreadable.
"Even if she goes," I said, steadier now. "I'm staying. With... with the person I want to be with."
His body went rigid. Those eyes locked on mine, searching, like he was trying to find the lie. "You're sure about that?"
I nodded, my throat tight. "I choose you, Caleb."
The words hung between us. I reached out, my hand finding his, fingers threading together. My palm was damp with nerves. "I won't leave again. Not for anyone. Not for anything."
Something shifted in his expression. The lamp went out.
In the sudden darkness, I felt him move. Then his weight was over me, one hand braced beside my head, the other cupping the back of my neck. His grip was firm, almost desperate.
When his mouth found mine, there was nothing gentle about it. This wasn't like before. This was hunger, possession, something raw and barely contained. He kissed me like he was trying to prove something, or maybe punish me, or maybe just confirm I was real.
My mind blanked. I couldn't think past the heat of him, the urgency of his lips moving against mine making my chest tight. When he pulled back slightly, his mouth brushing softer over my lower lip, I finally remembered to breathe.
My hands moved on instinct, fisting in his shirt, holding on tight because I didn't know what else to do. My heart felt like it would burst from my chest.
He pulled back a little, breathing hard. I could barely make out his face in the dark—just the shadow of his jaw, the faint gleam of his eyes.
The kiss left us both breathless, suspended in that dangerous space between wanting and restraint.
My fingers were still twisted in his shirt when I managed to gasp out, "We can't—Hector's right next door."
The words came out shakier than I intended. I wasn't sure if I was trying to convince him or myself.
Caleb pulled back just enough that I could see his eyes in the darkness. Something flickered at the edges of his pupils before he forced it back down. His throat worked as he swallowed hard.
"I know," he said, his voice rough and low.
But he didn't move away. His forehead rested against mine instead, our breath mingling in the small space between us. His hands gripped my waist like he was physically holding himself back from something.
The restraint radiating off him was almost tangible. He was choosing to stop, not because he didn't want me, but because he wanted me too much.
That realization sent heat flooding through me that had nothing to do with his body temperature.
"Goodnight," I whispered, because if I didn't say something I was going to do something stupid like pull him back.
He made a sound that might have been agreement, might have been frustration. Then he pulled me closer, tucking me against his chest with my head beneath his chin. His arms came around me tight enough that I could barely move.
I should have felt trapped. Instead, I felt safe.
Exhaustion caught up with me all at once. The adrenaline crash, the emotional whiplash of the past few days, the simple relief of being here with him—it all pulled me under faster than I expected.
---
When I woke, pale morning light was filtering through the curtains. For a disorienting moment I couldn't remember where I was—then I felt the solid warmth at my back, the arm slung heavy over my waist, and everything came rushing back.
Caleb.
And judging by the way he was still holding me like I might bolt at any second, he hadn't moved all night.
I shifted slightly, testing if he was awake. His arm tightened reflexively, but his breathing stayed deep and even. Still asleep, then.
Carefully, I turned in his grip until I could see his face. In sleep, the usual hardness was gone. He looked younger. Less guarded. The morning light caught on his dark lashes.
This is real, I thought. This is actually happening.
A week ago, I would have been looking for the nearest exit. But now, watching him sleep with his forehead nearly touching mine, all I felt was this overwhelming sense of rightness.
Like this was where I was supposed to be all along.
His eyes opened slowly, irises focusing on me. For a heartbeat he just looked at me, expression unreadable. Then something shifted—not quite a smile, but close enough that it made my breath catch.
"Morning," he said, voice rough with sleep.
"Hi." My own voice came out embarrassingly breathy.
Neither of us moved, staying there like that. Until Hector's voice drifted up from downstairs.