Vote Then Read: Volume I

by Carly Phillips

  His hands dropped to his waist, crossed again in front of his chest, grabbed at his hair, then went back to his hips, constantly moving like he didn’t know what to do with them. His gaze was equally erratic, moving all over the place, landing everywhere but me.

  “Fuck this,” he muttered to himself. He grabbed some keys off a table by the door, and started out without even bothering to put on shoes. “I need to take care of something down by the dock. You can see yourself out.”

  “Will!” I called as I jogged down the steps after him. “Will, wait!”

  “Go home, Maggie!” He waved a hand in the air, not even bothering to turn around.

  “Will!”

  Will’s shoulders tensed like they were bearing some unseen load, but he kept going down the long staircase toward the water.

  “I thought we were having fun,” I called out as I followed, pushing errant branches of pine and alder out of my face. “I thought we were actually having a good time tonight. You picked me up. We went out for a show. Had a drink or two and danced, like normal people.”

  Will whirled around, four steps from the bottom. “Is that what you think tonight was? A normal date with a normal guy? Should I have brought you flowers? Opened your door for you? Bought you a drink instead of clinging to your hand like a fucking psycho?”

  “I—I didn’t say that,” I said, with less strength than I wanted. I cleared my throat awkwardly. “Will, I didn’t say anything like that!”

  “I am not a normal guy, Lil. I’ll never be that guy. I haven’t been normal since I was seven years old, and now I’m more fucked up at my age than most people will ever be their entire lives. I’ll never, ever be fucking normal, so you can drop-kick that idea out of your pretty little head.”

  He didn’t wait for me to reply, just turned and practically ran the rest of the way down the hill, taking a sharp right into the trees. I followed, struggling to track him in the dim light.

  “Stop following me, Lil,” he called over his shoulder as he strode to a small boathouse close to the dock. It was shrouded in trees, but he moved about the property like he’d done this many times in the dark.

  “Stop running away,” I retorted as I ducked under a big pine tree branch, eventually coming to a stop behind him, just short of running into him.

  Will pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and they jangled loudly as he struggled to unlock the door to the boathouse.

  “You kissed me,” I stated to his back. “Twice. You kissed me. And then you showed up to take me to that show even though I never said you had to go. You asked me to dance. You cut in. And then you kissed me. Again.”

  “And why do you think I did that?!” he exploded, smacking his hand hard against the door. “It’s not healthy, the way I feel about you! Every time I see you, I want to pick you up, take you away from this place, these people—anyone who says the things they say to you. I want you for myself and no one else because I’m a selfish bastard. Does that sound like something a good person would think?”

  “You would never do that,” I said. “I know you, Will. You’re not like that.”

  Will froze. He shoved his keys into his pocket, and his other hand braced the wall. His head fell.

  “I’m not good for you,” he said in a voice I almost couldn’t hear, muffled as it was by his posture and the woods. “I don’t know why you haven’t run a mile away from me, Lily, but you should. I won’t come by the house anymore. I won’t help out or run or bike or swim with you. You walk away right now, and I’ll do the same. We’ll just leave each other alone.”

  The muscles of the arm braced against the door shook visibly, even in the scattered moonlight. I stared for a moment, feeling more than ever as if Will were some kind of wild animal, desperate to be tamed, but terrified of being trapped. With a light, careful touch, I placed my hands on his arms, and when he didn’t move them—in fact, seemed to sag into my touch—I turned him around, guiding him in a circle so that he was leaning back against the door and watching me with wide, worried eyes.

  “I don’t want to leave you alone,” I said softly as I stepped up onto my toes. “And I don’t think you want me to either. I think you think about this, imagine this, want this just as much as I do.”

  Our lips weren’t quite level, but it was close enough. Will stared down at me—at my lips—with his mouth slightly open, like a starving man looking at a row of pastries kept behind glass. I understood it because I felt the same way.

  Well, I was tired of starving. I was tired of looking at a buffet when all I wanted to do was splurge. To hell with doing the right thing. If kissing Will Baker was wrong, then I was well on my way to hell and happy to be there.

  I leaned in and closed my eyes. But just before our lips met for that ferocious yet sweet connection that I knew was waiting for me, Will spoke.

  “Pine cone.”

  I blinked. “Wha-what?”

  His eyes, which were currently glued to my lips, slowly dragged up to meet mine. They held them for a second or two before he opened his mouth and articulated the word loudly and clearly: “Pine. Cone.”

  I shook my head, but before I could ask him what the hell was going on, Will ducked away and started back the way we’d come, across the bank and up the stairs again.

  “Where are you going?” I called as I scrambled after him. God, my thighs would be burning in the morning. I’d been up and down stairs all damn day. “Hey, I thought you had to take care of something down here.”

  “Pine cone, Lily,” he called over his shoulder. “Go the fuck home!”

  “What is this, Chutes and Ladders?” I yelped as I tramped up the stairs behind him, trying my best not to slip on the mounds of dried pine needles collected everywhere. “Stay in one place, Baker, and have a conversation like a grownup!”

  He didn’t respond, just ran back up the stairs two at a time, to the point where I couldn’t keep up with him and shout at the same time.

  “Will!” I cried as we finally reached the top of the stairs. “Will, stop and talk to me!”

  He whirled around, shaking and red in the face.

  “Pine cone!” he roared. “I said pine cone, Lily! Jesus fucking Christ, what good is a safe word if you’re not going to use it!”

  I took a step toward him, but as I did, my toe brushed something sharp and pointy. I looked down: it was, of course, a freaking pine cone. I stared at it, then picked it up, and with everything I had, hurled it at Will. It hit him square on the forehead, and he backed up a few steps, pressing a hand to his head.

  “Hey!” he yelped. “What the hell was that?”

  “Fuck the pine cone!” I cried back. “And fuck the safe word! I’m not hurting you here, and you’re using it as a crutch. What is so triggering about my songs, my kiss, huh? You have to run off because I sang a song that you pressured me into playing in the first place! Was it really so bad you had to sprint up a goddamn hill?”

  My voice trembled on the end of the sentence. I hadn’t realized I’d felt that way until I said it. That maybe, deep down, my music wasn’t that good. That maybe that’s why I’d failed, why I’d never be anything more than a girl who was uncommonly good at mimicking others, but who couldn’t create anything worth hearing on her own. Maybe that was why I’d let go, had found it so easy to allow a man to consume my life and push my dreams aside.

  “Well, it’s better than seeing you dance with Lucas Forster,” he spat, like I hadn’t just asked him a direct question. “Just looking at that ogre’s hands on you, I felt violent, Maggie. I wanted to break both his fucking arms so he physically couldn’t touch you anymore.”

  I shook my head and looked up. Where was this coming from? “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Believe me, I wish I were.”

  “You’re jealous? That’s what this is about? You came over there to help me!”

  Will took a few steps toward me. “I didn’t know. Maybe you liked it. Maybe you wanted him to grab your ass in the middle of the
room like you were his cheap date. All I knew was that I couldn’t fucking deal with it!”

  “Stop it,” I said, stepping backward.

  “I don’t know, Lil. Maybe it’s familiar. Maybe you like the way he treats you like an old baseball glove he forgot in his basement. A toy he used to have, and now he wants to play with because some other kid wants it too.”

  “Be careful, Baker,” I warned him with a pointed finger. “That’s some sexist crap you’re spouting right now. I’m no one’s toy.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re amazing. Too good for him, and certainly too good for me.” He bent over, like it physically hurt him to say all of this. “You loved him at some point. Once, Lucas Forster had something to offer, didn’t he?” He pushed his hands through his hair and clenched his jaw so tightly, a vein popped out in his forehead.

  “Stop it,” I whispered, though my heart wasn’t in this fight anymore. I just wanted to stop the pain I saw etched across Will’s face.

  “Tell me what it was,” Will commanded as his gaze burned up and down my body.

  I didn’t know how he did it. I was absolutely furious with him, and at the same time, two seconds from yanking off my clothes and tackling him.

  He stepped toward me, and I took another step back. It was like we were back on the floor at the tavern all over again, a fucked-up dance of intimidation that turned me on and made me want to run at the same time.

  “Tell me what he has,” Will ordered. “I want to know what a guy like that does to deserve someone like you.”

  This time neither of us moved. And one thought—only one—echoed through my head.

  “Lucas Forster isn’t scared of me,” I said.

  The wind rose through the trees, like it was whispering my words back to us.

  Will cocked his head. “Is that so?”

  I forced myself not to cower, straightening to my full five feet and five inches tall. “Y-yes,” I managed, trying to sound stronger than I felt. “That’s so.”

  “Lucas Forster,” Will growled as he took another step, then another until he had me trapped against the long counter of an old outdoor kitchen wrapped around the house, “is absolutely terrified of you. Lucas Forster wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like you if he had the fucking manual.”

  His eyes dropped to my lips. He took a deep breath. I couldn’t breathe at all.

  Then…then Will attacked. And to my surprise, I fought back. Our mouths, hands, limbs—everything—clawed, grappled with each other. Pushing away, yet trying to get closer. Will kissed me like he was engaging a battle for his life. His soul. Daring me to fight it, and fight it I did. I grabbed a handful of his thick hair—that erratic mane I both wanted to comb and cut, depending on my mood—and yanked, forcing him to look at me.

  “Oh?” I panted, already breathless. “And you do?”

  Will reached past my ass, and in one brusque move, scooped me up from the ground and set me on the counter. His broad hands pushed up the tops of my thighs, then wrenched them apart as he conquered my mouth with another vicious kiss that left me gasping for breath. He ground against me in slow, measured strokes, letting me feel just exactly what he had packing under those pants of his. And…yeah. Let’s just say it took him some very nice, long movements to get from one end to the other. I squirmed against him, and he devoured me all over again.

  He sucked hard on my lower lip. I moaned. Will grunted. “I knew how to do this before I met you, Lily pad. I was born knowing how to kiss you. How to touch you. How to fuck you.”

  His harsh words made me shiver. But still, I fought. “And is that all I’m worth to you?”

  I bit his earlobe, and my fingernails dug into the curve of his shoulder. Will hissed, but didn’t stop kissing me, back and back again, tongue dipping deeper inside, like he couldn’t get enough.

  “One fuck?” I gasped. “And then you’re gone again, right? Isn’t that what you do?”

  Still squeezing my thighs hard enough that I thought he might leave bruises, Will froze. He stood back up, his full mouth half open, his green eyes intense and bright, and inhaled sharply, enough that his shoulders and chest rose and fell with the movement. My hand slid up his shirt, feeling his solid bones, smooth skin, the light sprinkle of hair over his impossibly hard chest. He caught it—over his heart—and trapped it there.

  “You want to know why I ran away?” he asked.

  I licked my lips, unable to help myself. Our mouths were maybe a half inch from each other, close enough that our breaths, our scents mingled, harbingers of what our bodies longed to do. I wanted more, wanted it so badly my chest hurt. I was panting, a sheen of sweat built across my brow from pure desire while my eyes were squeezed shut.

  “Y-yes,” I managed, trying and failing to ignore the way my lips throbbed with want. With need.

  “Lily.”

  The anger in Will’s voice was gone. Instead, all I heard, right on pitch, was a curious harmony of confusion. Resignation. Desire.

  I opened my eyes and found Will staring, his mouth half open in that same pucker of want I knew was on mine. But his eyes, those deep green, gold-flecked pools of sadness that I couldn’t quite reach, didn’t waver or shutter. For once, it felt like he was wide open.

  “I was scared, yeah,” he said. “But your song…goddammit, it was stunning, Lil. It was so fucking beautiful, it scared the hell out of me. Just…just like you.”

  He shook his head and pushed a hand through his hair, yanking at the ends meditatively. But his gaze didn’t move.

  “You make me feel…like a dying man in the desert. And you’re the fresh spring, the oasis. The water for my parched fucking soul.” He shuddered, a movement that spread through his whole body. “But I’m terrified,” he whispered, “absolutely fucking terrified…that you’re just a mirage.”

  The wind rose again through the trees, blowing around us in a chorus that echoed through my soul. The lust I’d experienced just moments before wasn’t gone, but it was second to whatever else this was that I was feeling. Like it or not, I was connected to this man. I didn’t know why or how, or what it meant, but I knew that. And I wanted him to know it too.

  “I’m not a mirage,” I said softly as I framed his face with my hands, brushing his cheekbones with my thumbs. “I’m very real, Will. And I’m right here. For you.”

  Will’s eyes closed, as if he were wincing, so I leaned in and delivered a soft kiss onto his lips. His mouth opened to me, welcoming me while he pressed closer, aligning our bodies at every point.

  “Stay,” he rumbled, low and fierce, into my mouth. He kissed me again, tasting my lips, savoring every bit of me. “Stay. And show me.”

  17

  He carried me effortlessly into the house and down the stairs. I wasn’t a big person to start with, but I wasn’t particularly tiny either. Still, Will’s lean muscles kept me firmly wrapped around him as our lips remained fused, our eyes half shut with longing, so I barely registered the row of closed doors we passed on our way to his bedroom, and hardly noticed the open space with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out into the darkness of forest and water, but which would be flooded with light come morning. Will laid me on the bed, his arms still firmly wrapped around my back while he drifted his lips around my jaw, down my neck, and just below the collar of my shirt.

  His mouth was warm, almost sweet, and addictive to the point where it genuinely scared me that I wouldn’t be able to stop kissing him when it came time. And it would. People like me and Will always had expiration dates. Our issues were too much to put on another person. But right now, I didn’t care.

  Then Will stood up. My eyes popped open at his sudden absence.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Wait here,” he said, then disappeared, leaving me in darkness.

  I stared up at the exposed rafters of the ceiling, trying to convince myself that this wasn’t a bad idea. That getting involved with Will and his metric ton of intimacy problems didn’t spell a load of tro
uble. That kissing him didn’t feel like the best thing in the entire fucking world.

  I failed. Miserably.

  “Close your eyes, Lil.”

  Will’s deep, sonorous voice broke through my doubts, and I did as he said, smiling as I covered my eyes with my hands. I heard the sound of shuffling, but kept my hands firmly in place, not wanting to spoil whatever surprise he was preparing.

  “All right. You can open them now.”

  When I did, the first thing I saw was a balance of shadows and light dancing on the ceiling. Will had set up candles around several corners of his bedroom, and the effect illuminated the open space with a warm, yellow glow that cast every edge, every line under a softly moving haze. Chiarascuro, I thought to myself, remembering for a moment the paintings one of my Cultural Foundations professors had showed us in college, referencing the paintings of Caravaggio—a master of light. His use of light, the contrast between light and dark, had made his paintings of the body even more lifelike than so many of his contemporaries. He was known for making a painting seem like it was a person in the room with you. More than just paint and canvas. His work was raw. Real. Immediate.

  But Caravaggio’s work had nothing on the gleaming Adonis who stood in front of me. I had never met anyone more immediate than Will. More physical. More…present. When Will was around, I had a hard time sensing anything but him. Everything else seemed to fade away—the lake, the bar, my friends, my mother. And now, in this room, between four enclosed walls when it was only him and me, our lips still throbbing from the kisses we’d given and the kisses we had yet to give, he simply overwhelmed me.

  I gasped. And then I did the only thing I could think of to ease the strange tension. I joked.

  “Candles?” I giggled. “Really? What are we, in some cheesy romance movie?”

  His hopeful expression faltered, and immediately, I regretted my words. Shit, he was trying to do something nice, and here I was making fun of him. Again. It was all right to do when he was being too serious for his own good, but this was my issue.