CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER 8

Caleb appeared to figure out the direction of her thoughts. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against the soft skin just behind her ear. "Don't overthink this, babe," he said in that deep, gravelly voice that never failed to pique her interest. "We both got exactly what we wanted today. There's no need to ruin the mood with unnecessary details."

Yuria shuddered as his husky tenor caressed her senses, making rational thought difficult. Perhaps he was correct; why concentrate on possibilities that could go nowhere good? For the time being, she should simply enjoy the private conversations they had while Miranda was away.

Yuria turned in Caleb's arms, determinedly ignoring her anxieties, until she was straddling his lean hips, her tumbling hair creating a leather curtain around them. "You're right," she whispered, laying a line of feathery kisses across his muscular chest. "No need to ruin the mood with unnecessary drama."

Caleb gasped in approval, his hands finding grip on her waist and pulling her flush against him. "That's my girl," he rasped, seizing her lips in a scorching kiss.

And in the tangled bliss that ensued, Yuria allowed herself to become lost in the frighteningly intimate rhythm of hindered gasps and muttered endearments, clinging to the hope that this moment, this connection, could transcend the terrible deceptions that foreshadowed its eventual sad conclusion.

The afterglow of their company encounter lingered on Yuria like an oppressive fog as she hurried from Caleb's home. Any transient feelings of guilt for abandoning her best friend Miranda were quickly replaced by the bone-deep thrill of another successful seduction.

This wasn't the first time she gave in to Caleb's roaming hands and whispered endearments behind his girlfriend's back. The initial sorrow over betraying Miranda's confidence had faded to a chronic, dull ache, easily disregarded in the face of the electrifying rush of doing something completely immoral.

As Yuria's hired car pulled away from the curb, her mind was filled with vivid memories of the blazing caresses and passionate screams they had just shared. In those sublime moments, she became the sole focus of Caleb's smoldering intensity, rather than Miranda's bothersome companion or another forgettable conquest. She was wanted, desired, and completely possessed.

A wonderful thrill of triumph rushed through her as she imagined sweet, innocent Miranda staying unaware of the terrible depravities happening behind her back. Yuria couldn't deny the dark, twisted pleasure she had from keeping such filthy secrets right beneath her best friend's nose.

*** CALEB POV ***

Caleb's shoulders relaxed somewhat as the front door closed behind Yuria's departure. He raked a hand through his disheveled hair, attempting to restore his composure after their hot encounter.

A slight smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he assessed the ruined state of the living room: throw pillows scattering, blankets tossed carelessly across the floor. Signs of their desperate passion could be seen everywhere, from the unsteady lampshade to the abandoned bra dangling over the sofa arm.

He couldn't help but laugh at the memories that specific fragment of lace brought up: Yuria's frantic screams, her fingers scrabbling at his back as he hauled her up and pinned her against the wall...

Caleb shook his head, dismissing the tantalizing pictures before they could take hold and rekindle his smoldering need. As wonderful as their brief encounter had been, he wanted to get his ass in gear before his family returned. The last thing he needed was for his parents to discover the aftermath of his recklessness.

Caleb moved fast, scooping up the discarded blankets and tossing them into an unceremonious heap in the hallway before tackling the disorganized couch cushions. Yuria's bra immediately joined the pile, but he couldn't help but admire the lacy strip of cloth with a devious grin.

"Dad's going to have questions if he finds you just lying around," he said under his breath. Caleb gave the satiny cups one final lingering caress before slipping the bra into his pocket for later...inspection.

Within minutes, the main living area had been restored to some sort of order, with any traces of his and Yuria's activities destroyed by careful straightening and frenetic shoving of trash into handy corners. Caleb viewed his job with a sense of male pride; who needed a maid when you were a master of speedy damage control?

A harsh knock on the front door had him frozen in place, his pulse racing as he imagined Miranda arriving early to catch him in the deed. But a familiar young voice spoke up from the opposite side of the entrance, calming his nerves.

"Caleb? Are you home, Bro? "Let me in!"

His youngest sister, Julia. Of course.

With a grumble, Caleb stepped over to the door and removed the locks, pulling it open to see the little twelve-year-old waiting on the front stoop with a spiteful groan. Her arms were crossed over her chest in an exaggerated irritation pose, with her lower lip jutting out mutinously.

"Well, it's about damn time!" she growled, pushing past him without ceremony. "I've been stuck out there knocking for like, five whole minutes!"

"Easy there, pipsqueak," Caleb drawled, suppressing the impulse to tease her frizzy curls. He knew better than to set off his baby sister's famed anger. "I didn't realize you'd be back from Mom and Dad's errands so soon."

Julia rolled her eyes dramatically as she flopped into the recently straightened sofa, her scuffed trainers proudly displayed on the coffee table - an unspoken challenge to him to call her out on it. "Yeah, well we would've been back sooner if Mom didn't spend an hour and a half browsing random garage sales across town instead of just sticking to the stupid grocery list."

Caleb smiled at his sister's typical flair for drama. At twelve, she had mastered the ability to infuse even the most routine chores with an unhappy, put-upon air. Mom was picking up second-hand crap at yard sales, and Julia's over-the-top delivery made the unfairness seem like a human rights violation.

"Fair enough," he chuckled, grabbing a pillow from the floor and throwing it at her face with exact accuracy. She squawked in outrage before grabbing the objects and returning fire with a furious barrage.