Wish I May (25 page)

W
HEN
I climb out of the shower, the house is still. The last of the homework is finished, dinner put away, the television turned off. The giggles from the girls’ room have quieted.

I pull on my robe and wrap my hair in a towel before heading to my room, stalling at the staircase halfway there. He’s down there. Maybe tinkering with his photos on his laptop, maybe sitting in the living room with his feet up, grading student papers. Maybe taking a shower of his own. My eyes float closed as I conjure up the image of him under the spray, muscles taut as he strokes himself.

Maybe he’s in bed. Maybe he’s thinking of me, of my mouth on him this morning. Maybe he knows I’m thinking of him.

I pad to my room, closing the door quietly behind me—for privacy or to put another obstacle between us?

Over the last few nights, I’ve found myself heading back downstairs after the girls go to sleep at night, just hoping I might run into William in the kitchen. I love the way his eyes roam over me every time we’re in the same room, as if he’s trying to memorize me, and I find myself craving those moments, looking for them.

I could throw on some clothes and go down to find him, but I won’t. Not tonight. Not when the girls are in the house and I’m so close to giving in to temptation. Every day I’m realizing it’s not a question of
if
I’ll acquiesce the attraction between us. It’s a question of
when
.

My phone buzzes, vibrating against the nightstand, and when I pick it up, I see William’s number on the screen.

“Hey there,” I whisper.

“How was your shower?”

“Wonderful. Hot. Long. Water pressure to die for. Much needed.”

His hum of approval carries over the line and rumbles through my body, vibrating through my core and settling between my legs. “You could have taken it down here. You’d like my shower.”

“And have it ruin me for all other showers?” I grin and plop onto the bed. “Hardly.”

“I had a good time hanging out with you and the girls tonight.” His voice drops low, seducing me with treble alone. “I like having you around, Cally.”

I like being around.
“I owe you so much for all of this. I really can’t thank you enough.”

“You’re welcome. It’s been my pleasure.”

The silence rises up between us. It’s not an empty silence, eating up space in our conversation. Instead, it’s this loaded silence, charged with attraction and unfulfilled desires. Fantasies. Memories. Unspoken secrets.

“Remember our phone calls after you first moved away?”

“I remember.”

“Lock the door, Cally.”

“Are you trying to keep me in or keep yourself out?” Even as I ask, I turn the lock on the handle.

“You don’t have to worry about me coming up there.”

“I don’t?” Why am I disappointed?

“No, sweetheart. Your sisters are up there, and when I’m finally inside you, I want to hear you scream.”

My knees turn to jelly, and I sink onto the bed.

“The lock is so you won’t be interrupted while I’m listening to you touch yourself.”

“William.” His name comes off my lips like a plea.

“I left you something on the dresser.”

“Wine,” I whisper, standing to pour myself a glass.

“Strawberry wine,” he corrects. “I sprung for the kind with the screw-off cap.”

“Classy.” I giggle and take a sip. The taste and the smell work together to snare my senses and carry me back in time. The dock behind the old warehouse on Main. The moonlight reflecting off the water. William’s tongue circling my navel….

“Are you nude?”

His words pair with my anticipation and send a thrill up my spine. “I have a robe on. I believe it’s the one your ‘friend’ Meredith was wearing the other day.”

“Jealous much?”

“Maybe a little.” I smile. “Maybe I should send you more dirty texts. I can’t have your phone thinking she’s better at that than me.”

“Maybe you should.”

I could. I like the idea of sending him a dirty message while he’s teaching.

“What are we doing?”

I’m talking about
this,
about
us
, but he says, “I’m not sure, but let’s start with that robe and see what happens.” His voice has gone deep, gravelly. “Untie it for me, Cally.”

My hands shake slightly as I obey. I let the ties fall to the side and slide my hand down the flat of my belly. “What about you? What do you have on?”

“Boxers.”

I lick my lips. I’d tell him to take them off, but I like the image of him in nothing but boxers. “Since I started staying here, I’ve been wondering how you sleep,” I confess.

“Honestly, I haven’t done much sleeping at all. I think about you sliding between those sheets, your body laid out on the same bed I used to touch you on.”

My breath hitches. “How am I supposed to resist you when you talk to me like this?”

“You’re not.”

“There are so many reasons we shouldn’t do this.” But I already know we will. I surrendered the moment I locked the door. “I’m afraid I’ll hurt you again.”

He hesitates a beat. “That’s a chance I’m willing to take, Cal. Let me make that choice, okay?” Then, before I can reply: “Are you nude under the robe?”

“Yes.”

He groans. “You’ve got the upper hand here.”

“How so?”

“You saw me naked in the shower. It’s been too damn long since I’ve seen your bare body. I want to see those curves I felt at the restaurant.”

I shift back on the bed and fan my fingers over my belly.

“Touch your breasts for me. Touch them like I would. Let me hear you as you play with your nipples.”

Desire ripples through me as I lift one hand to my breasts, cupping them, teasing my nipples with my fingers.

“God,” he groans. “I love hearing you breathe when you’re aroused. You’re so damn responsive. It is such a turn-on.”

“It’s not….” I hesitate, embarrassed to say it but needing him to know, to understand. “I’m not always like this. It’s you. No one else does this to me. No one else could ever turn me on this fast.”

“How aroused are you? Slide your hand between your legs and tell me.”

My breath comes faster as I trace my hand down my body to the needy spot between my thighs. My body is humming with arousal. Greedy with desire. When my fingers find the slickness between my legs, I whimper because my hand is a sorry substitute for his, the quiet of this empty room a poor consolation prize when I crave the weight of his body on me, his breath in my ear. “I can’t,” I whisper. “I want
you
.”

He moans softly. “It’s good to hear you say it.”

I shake my head and remove my hand. This is too much. And I’ve reached my breaking point. “Will, I have to go.”

Then I hang up the phone.

What the hell just happened?

I blink at my phone, try to make sense of the words telling me the call ended.
Fuck.

I squeeze my eyes shut and throw my head back on my pillow.

Not that I’ll be sleeping much tonight. Not with Cally in my head. Not with the image of her just upstairs, parting her legs at my command. Not while I’m remembering the soft, barely audible almost-purr that she makes when she’s close to coming. I keep thinking of how soft her lips look before I kiss them. How swollen they are after.

At the first knock on my bedroom door, I think I’m imagining things. But it sounds again, and then someone whispers my name quietly. “William?”

After I pull open the door, I have to blink a few times to be sure my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me. Cally’s standing there in nothing but a white terry cloth robe.

“Cally.”

She just looks at me with those big brown doe eyes. Then her hands are in my hair and her mouth is on mine. And holy hell, her lips are so damn soft, her taste so damn sweet that I’m lost.

Cupping her face in my hands, I kiss her back without hesitation. I pull her bottom lip between my teeth, and she lets out this little kitten mewl that makes me crazy. My thumb skips down her jaw until she opens under my mouth, because I have to get inside. I need to taste her, to explore her.

Mine.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“I promise to be quiet.” She rubs a thumb over my lips, and I have to resist the instinct to pull it between my teeth and suck, to watch those expressive eyes of hers flare with desire. “Please,” she says softly. “Please, William. I need this. I need someone good to touch me. Please.”

I drop my hands to her waist and tug her close. The slide of my hand in her robe and I’m skating my thumb across her navel. “I’m not good, Cally. I’ve screwed up so many times.”

“You are,” she breathes. “So good you can’t even see it.”

I yank her robe open and crush my mouth down on hers. I mean it to be a warning—because I’m not letting her go without a fight this time. But she doesn’t withdraw. She moans and rocks her hips. She meets my brutal desire with her own, tugging at my hair, biting my lip.

I kick the door closed and back her against it, as if a solid surface might contain this wild and dangerous hunger pumping through me. When I move to her neck and suck that tender skin, she gasps and presses harder into me.

Another wave of lust slams through me, and suddenly I need to see her eyes, to see the pleasure on her face as I touch her.

When I pull back, she’s watching me. Her lips are red and swollen, her lids heavy with desire.

I move my hand up her torso. As I brush the underside of her breasts, her eyes float closed and she arches into my hand.

“God, you’re beautiful.” My words are thick with arousal, gritty with the desperation I’ve felt since she watched me stroke myself in the shower. Fuck. I’m lost.

I dip my head to her breast, wetting it with my tongue. Cupping her in my hand, I draw her nipple into my mouth. She cries out against my neck and digs her nails into my shoulder blades as I suck and bite, rough and soft by turns. Maybe too rough, but I can’t help it because she’s moaning and I am desperate to claim her, to brand her.

She rocks into my thigh. I run my hands down her legs and draw her knees up, lifting her between me and the door until my cock is nestled right between her legs, only the thin fabric of my boxers between us. She wraps her legs around me and squeezes me tight.