Wish I May (29 page)

“Could I ask you for something?” I whisper.

“Of course.”

“Would you book a room at that hotel where we were together for the first time? You remember? With the view of the mountains? I want our first time being together again to be special.”

His hands still. “It will be.”

Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I cut my eyes away from his. “Yes, but I’m on my...my monthly,” I lie.

He growls and pushes me off his lap. “Why’d you go and get me all worked up then?”

Righting myself on the cushion next to him, I bow my head and look at him through my lashes. “I guess I was too anxious to touch you again. Not so long ago, I thought we were over.”

His fingers grab my wrist and wrap tight. “We will never be
over.
You can’t get rid of me.”

“You left me for four years,” I say, trying for a pout. “And then there was Quinn. I thought you wanted
her
now.”

He yanks me forward and the skin under his fingers burns. “How can I prove myself to you? She was a passing fancy. You are the only one I ever wanted as a permanent fixture in my life.”

Fixture.
What an appropriate word choice. “Give me two months with the girls. Then I’ll be home and everything can go back to the way it was before.” I place my hand over the one he has wrapped painfully around my wrist. “You can stay with me.” The offer is a gamble, but one that I must take.

“I can’t stay,” he growls, and there’s something like anger in his eyes. “Damn parole officer doesn’t want me leaving Nevada at all. I have to get back before he realizes I’ve gone.”

“We’ll make up for lost time when I get home,” I promise.

“Stay my good girl. I’d hate to have to replace you.”

I couldn’t be so lucky
.

He insists I let his driver take me back to New Hope, and I have him drop me off at Dad’s because I can’t risk Brandon finding out I’m staying with William.

I have two months of borrowed time. But I won’t be heading back to Vegas when it’s over. I
won’t
go back to Brandon. But I can’t be here when he comes back for me either. If I don’t want to be forced back into a life with him, I’ll have to hide.

I
T’S NEARLY
midnight when Cally walks in my door. The girls knew she’d be late and had dinner with their dad. Drew took care of all the necessary bedtime rituals with Gabby. But I didn’t get the memo, and I sat in my dark living room, watching the front door, willing her to come through it. I’m foolishly hoping she spent the evening with Lizzy and Hanna, but I know better.

She’s in a high heels and short black dress that shows off her long legs. Oblivious to my presence, she goes straight to the kitchen.

I catch her at the sink, splashing water on her face, and I spin her around and slide my hands into her hair, pressing my mouth to hers. She lets out a little squeak and lifts her hands to my chest as she opens her mouth under mine.

Her kiss is so sweet, so full of something that feels like love.

My hands go to her ass, and I pull her hard and fast against my body, needing to feel her close to me. When that’s not good enough for this raging need inside me, I draw her skirt up around her waist and lift her onto the counter. She spreads her legs and tugs me forward by my shirt. I break the kiss to trail my mouth to her neck. A sexy moan of protest slips from her lips as her hands slide into my hair.

Closer,
something primal demands. I nearly forget everything but our bodies. Everything except this roaring need to own. To claim. To
keep
. Because that’s what’s there at the root of this desire—my fear that she’s going to leave me again.

I try to catch my breath and slow this down. Tracing her lips with my thumb, I skim my hand down the side of her neck before tangling it in her hair.

She tilts her head to the side to give me better access to her neck. I kiss and nip there as I find her zipper and peel the dress from her shoulders. I go to work on her bra, releasing it at the back and throwing it across the kitchen.

Her breasts are full, her nipples already hard. I take one into my hand and tease her nipple. With my other hand, I trace down the column of her spine and dip into the waistband of her panties.

She’s panting in my ear and tugging on my hair to pull me closer. Moaning, she wraps her legs around me. The stiletto points of her heels dig into my back.

“Be mine, Cally. You belong to me.”

She cools in my arms and presses me away. “What did you say?”

“I need to know you’re mine. The asshole in the gallery. He’s here for you. I can tell.”

Her whole body stiffens. “How did you know?”

“Aside from the fact that he was two seconds away from whipping it out and pissing on you to mark his territory?” I take her thumb between my teeth and bite gently before releasing it. Then I place my mouth to her earlobe and treat it to a similar torture until she’s pressing into me again. “You were with him tonight, weren’t you?”

“Let’s not do this, William,” she whispers. “Not now.”

She doesn’t deny it and that tears me apart, but I need her too much. “Forget about the past. Forget about the future. You’re here now, and what’s happening between us is inevitable. You’re
mine
.” I roll her nipple between my fingers and pinch until she cries softly, rocking her hips into me. “Say you’re mine.”

“No,” she says in a harsh whisper. She shoves away my hands. “I’m not.”

I stagger back. “I’m supposed to believe you belong to him? After last night?”

The sadness in her eyes makes a vice around my heart. “I’m not anyone’s. I’m a human being, not a possession.” She tugs off her heels and hops off the counter. Pulling her dress back up, she grabs her bra off the floor and is headed to the stairs when I stop her.

“Cally?”

She hangs her head but keeps her back to me. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you what you want to hear.”

Seven Years Ago

The Indianapolis Airport is buzzing with late Saturday morning traffic, and I wait for Cally at baggage claim, pacing, too nervous to sit.

Her plane from Las Vegas arrived twenty minutes ago, and I haven’t seen her yet, but I refuse to assume the worst.

I rented a little cabin for after prom, and I already have it set up with rose petals, candles, and strawberry wine. We’re going to be together tonight. For the first time.

But it’s not the sex I’m looking forward to the most. It’s having her in my arms again, smelling her hair, reassuring myself that I haven’t lost her.

The people around me reunite with their loved ones and I try to shake this sense of impending disappointment. A mom drops her bag as she sinks to her knees and gathers a little girl in her arms. A young woman with bright eyes wraps her arms around her pierced and tatted boyfriend. I scoot back to get out of the way, scanning the crowd for her face.

The traffic around the baggage carousel clears, person by person. My heart turns stony in my chest and sinks to my gut as I watch the shiny conveyor belt turn.

All the bags are gone. Cally is nowhere to be seen.

My hands are unsteady as I pull my cell phone from my pocket and punch in her number. It rings once and goes to voicemail.

I try again. This time it goes straight to voicemail.

I’m ready to dial again when her text comes through:
Something came up. I’m sorry I can’t come.

I sink onto a bench and cradle my head in my hands. It’s over. I ignored the signs because I didn’t want to believe it, but I can’t deny it anymore. I’ve lost her.

How am I supposed to let her go when she still has ahold of my heart?