by Lexi Ryan
“You could go anywhere, do anything.”
He hooks a leg behind mine and rolls us until he’s on his elbows hovering over me and his lips are a breath from mine.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
“That I can’t wait to tell everyone you’re my girl.”
Then he kisses me for a long time, slow and sweet. We look at the stars after, side by side, his fingers tangled in my hair. Then we see it. A shooting star, skating across the sky as if it were put there for us.
I can’t help but wonder if my time with William will be like that. A precious but temporary gift.
Chapter Six
William
Eleven Months Later
“Open it!” Cally says, her eyes bright. She’s grinning at me, and we both know very well what a fat envelope from a college means.
“I don’t want to.” I chuck it to the floor and nudge her backward until the bed hits the back of her thighs. She’s so damn beautiful when she smiles. Just the idea of not seeing that smile every day makes me want to scrap all my plans for college. Ten months ago, the idea of getting a fat envelope from Notre Dame would have sent me over the moon. When it came today, my first thought was of the long drive between here and there. “There’s one more application I’m waiting on.” I slide my hands into her hair.
She frowns. “From where? I thought you’d heard from everyone already.”
“Sinclair.”
She presses her hands against my chest and pushes me back. “No. William. No. Absolutely not.”
I hang my head. This is why I hadn’t told her. I knew how she’d feel about me sticking around for her. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“But you need to,” she protests. “You need to get away from your grandmother and have a chance to live your life without her constant meddling. You told me that’s what you wanted, and I think it’s what you need.”
I grab her hand and bring it to my lips. “That was before you.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “I can’t let you do this. I love you too much.”
“I love you too,” I whisper, then I dip my head to kiss her.
“Don’t change the subject,” she whispers against my lips.
“I wouldn’t dare.” Our mouths meet again, and I sweep my tongue across her lips until she opens for me and makes that little kitten mewl at the back of her throat. I nudge her again, and she lowers to the bed, her dark hair fanned against my blue sheets. “You’re so beautiful.”
She’s wearing cut-off jean shorts that show her long legs, and one of my old practice jerseys. Her back arches as she reaches for me, and the jersey slides higher, revealing a narrow strip of creamy skin right above the waistband of her jeans. The part of me that loves her and understands her hang-ups resists, but there’s a part of me that’s ready to push, a part that wants her too much not to ask for more.
I know my friends think we have sex. Hell, other than Cally and me, I don’t know any couples who aren’t sexually active. But we have more than they do. We have a connection that I’ve craved since my parents died.
When Cally’s around, I never feel alone.
***
Cally
Over the clothes and above the waist. That was my line in the sand at the beginning of our relationship. Lately, it’s a line I want to kick myself for drawing.
When we first started dating, I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s not that I’m a pessimist or something. It’s just that William is so much more than I ever would have imagined for myself. He’s not just the sexy football player everyone loves. He’s smart and kind and thoughtful. And when I told him I wouldn’t have sex with him, he took me at my word and has never pushed the physical side of our relationship. We make out, and when things start to get too heated, when I’m ready for him to ask for more, he slows us down and pulls me back.
Over the clothes and above the waist. My rules, followed to a T.
Stupid rules.
I complained to Lizzy and Hanna about my predicament, and Lizzy laughed at me. “So, strip. You show him some bare skin, and I’m sure he’ll get the idea.”
I was going to wait for our one-year dating anniversary. But lying here in his bed, no one else in the house, my body has other ideas. The way he’s looking at me right now gives me the courage I need. I sit up, and before I can talk myself out of it, I pull my shirt off over my head.
His breath draws in with a hiss and his gaze sweeps across bare stomach, my breasts swelling above the cups of my bra. “You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” he says, but his eyes give him away. He needs this as much as I do. “Cally, I—”
I unclasp my bra, and he stops talking, his chest rising and falling as his eyes rake over me again and again.
“Jesus. You’re beautiful.” He wraps his hand around my side and pulls me close, lowering his mouth to mine.
His fingers are gentle. He sweeps them over my bare skin, cups a breast in his palm. I gasp at the brush of his callused hand. He’s touched me here before, and I always liked it, but this is different. There’s no comparison, and this simple contact makes me want more. Skin to skin, everywhere.
“So damn beautiful.” He drops his mouth to my neck. Pleasure jackknifes through me when he rolls my nipple between his fingers and scrapes his teeth over my collarbone. “Let me kiss these. Let me make you feel good.”
I’m almost tense, coiled tight and needy, waiting for his mouth on my breasts. I want to feel his tongue against the sensitive flesh of my nipple. He kisses the sensitive crook of my neck and teases me with his thumbs. What will it feel like to have his mouth there? What if I don’t like it?
“Relax, baby.” He lowers me to the bed and runs his hand across my abdomen. His fingers dip into the hollow of my navel then up between my breasts. He follows with his mouth, hot and wet against my stomach, his tongue skimming under the band of my jeans and sending wild flutters through my belly before he kisses his way back up.
By the time he brings his mouth to my breast, pleasure twists inside me, greedy and impatient and more intense than anything I’ve ever felt before.
His tongue circles my nipples, one then the other. He closes his mouth over the taut peak and sucks, his other hand pinching the opposite breast.
The spiral of desire pulses harder, more insistent, and I squeeze my thighs together tight as he teases and sucks. I cling to that sensation—the tight, twisting ache. I tug at his hair because I need more, and I’m so close to something but I’m not sure what it is. Suddenly, he sucks again, and that aches twists impossibly tight before shattering and rocking through me in a violent spasm of pleasure.
I cry out, and he sucks harder until the spasm recoils and releases again, and I’m arching into his touch, holding on to his hair and the back of his neck.
Finally, my body lightens and releases, and I drop my hands to my sides. When I open my eyes, William is looking down at me, his blue eyes hot, his face searching mine.
When the realization of what I just did clicks into place in my sluggish brain, my cheeks burn with embarrassment. I held his mouth to me like I was afraid he was going to stop. I—Oh my God. Who has an orgasm from a guy touching her above the waist? “I don’t know why that happened. I’m sorry.”
He smiles but it looks a little pained. “Are you seriously apologizing for the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life?”
“I… You thought that was sexy?”
His lips quirk. “Baby, I made you come just by kissing your breasts. Not only was it sexy, I feel like Superman right now.”
“Superman?”
“Maybe Houdini is a more appropriate comparison, but yeah.” There’s so much intensity in his eyes that I can practically feel the weight of his gaze as he runs it over me again. “You’ve pretty much made my life.”
I bite my lip. “It’s a little embarrassing from where I’m sitting.”
He draws me up against him and nuzzles against my neck. “God, there’s absolutely no
thing for you to be embarrassed about. The only thing embarrassing here is the way I’m about to come in my jeans without you even laying a finger on me.”
“Really?”
He groans. “You have no idea how much I want you. It hurts like hell.”
That sobers me, and I pull away. “William, I’m sorry I—”
“Please don’t apologize. It’s a good kind of hurt.”
I guess I know what he means. I’ve been feeling the good kind of hurt for months. I’m just not sure how much longer I want to feel it. My gaze drops to his jeans before I realize what I’m doing and tear my eyes away. I looked long enough to see some very impressive tightness at his fly that wasn’t there earlier.
He pulls off his shirt and snuggles next to me, wrapping his arms under my breasts and pulling me close. “Let me hold you like this,” he whispers in my ear.
I breathe in his scent and my eyes slowly drift closed. The sun slants in through the window and warms my skin, relaxes my muscles.
I’m nearly asleep when he says, “I love you, Cally.”
I’m getting used to hearing those words. He told me for the first time months ago, and I was in awe that someone as amazing as William could love me. I never doubted his words. They are like him—honest, pure, and easy. But when he first said them, I was struck by the vulnerability in his eyes. I used to think William had everything, but I was wrong. He didn’t have love. Not as much as he deserves. And maybe his grandmother’s love for him is unconditional, but he can’t see it when she puts so many conditions on her approval. My parents might suck at being parents, but I’ve never doubted their love. I would never have guessed that William needed my love more desperately than I needed his.
“I love you too,” I reply softly now.
“If I leave for school, will visit me? Will you wait for me?”
I twist, turning in his arms so I can see him. “Notre Dame isn’t that far. A few hours on the bus, and I’ll be there.”
Relief washes over his face and he slides his hands into my hair and pulls me close for a kiss. When he releases me, I settle into his chest again. “Thank you,” I say—to him, to the universe or whatever desperate stargazing wish brought us together.
Chapter Seven
Cally
He forgot.
I wrap my arms around myself and pace my bedroom. I can’t believe he forgot.
My phone rings, and I practically jump across my bed as I scramble to grab it.
I don’t bother to read the display. “Hello.”
“Hey, chica!” Lizzy says from the other end.
My shoulders sag in disappointment, and I look at the clock. It’s after eight p.m. “Hey, Liz,” I mutter.
“Any word from lover boy?”
“He texted me to let me know his grandma had roped him into a card game and he’d try to stop by later.”
“He’s with his grandma!” she howls, outraged.
“No way!” I hear in the background. Hanna, no doubt.
Normally, I wouldn’t be bothered by Will playing cards with his grandma instead of spending the evening with me. Because William is just that kind of guy. He plays poker with his grandmother and her friends every week or so. I’ve never gone (though he’s tried to convince me on several occasions), but from what I gather, the women get rowdy drunk and play a cutthroat game.
But it’s our one-year anniversary, and I had hoped for more. I’d planned for more. I guess this is what I get for not reminding him of the date. Honestly, I didn’t think I needed to, and it hurts, realizing how wrong I’d been.
“You need to call him and let him know how disappointed you are,” Lizzy says. “If you don’t, I will.”
“Please don’t.” I walk over to the window and look outside, half expecting to see him waiting with roses and a smile. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Liar,” she says.
“You know how his grandmother can be. I’m sure she laid on quite the guilt trip, and he didn’t feel like he could leave her.”
“But it’s your anniversary,” Lizzy whines.
The sound of dishes crashing echoes down the hallway from the kitchen. Shit. Mom must be cooking drunk again. “I have to go,” I say quickly. “I’ll call you later.”
“You better,” she says.
I hang up and slide the phone into my pocket before heading to the sound. I’m met in the kitchen with the sight of my mother putting dishes into boxes. My heart skitters to a stop. “What are you doing?”
“I’m packing.” She looks up at me and smiles. It’s a real smile. Not one of those Vicodin-laced plastic ones. Her eyes are clear, like maybe she’s sober for the first time in months. “You girls and I are about to begin an adventure. A new life in Las Vegas.”
“What are you talking about?” Maybe she is high. She’s not even making sense.
“In a few weeks, we’re moving to Las Vegas. Aren’t you the luckiest teen in the world?” She grins at me like she really believes what she’s saying.
“I’m not moving anywhere. My life is here. You can’t seriously expect me to just throw away everything because you want to follow some whim.”
Glass clatters as she slams the platter she’s holding onto the counter. “This isn’t a whim. This is me taking control of my life, making something of it. That’s what you told me you wanted, right?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“You know, your sisters are excited. Don’t ruin this for them.”
My sisters are too young to understand what moving away means. “What about Dad?” I manage.
She winces then hides her face behind tissue paper as she resumes packing. “He’s the reason this is happening. He wanted to quit his job and go on some spiritual quest in Bali. I decided it was as good a time as any for us to divorce. We haven’t been happy together in a long time. This divorce is giving us what we both want.”
“Well, I’m staying here.” My voice sounds pathetic, desperate.
“You’ll love it in Vegas. The lights, the excitement. It will be a fresh start for all of us. Everybody wins.” Her smile doesn’t look so sure anymore, though.
“Except me,” I whisper. “I don’t win. I don’t want a fresh start.”
“Well, it’s time you grow up enough to understand things aren’t always going to go your way.”
Fear sits like a stone in the bottom of my stomach. It leaks its toxins into my limbs, making my arms and legs heavy. I can’t move. I’m frozen in this spot until she fixes what she’s broken. Until she unsays what she just told me.
“Don’t look at me like that. I deserve happiness too.”
“You’re hijacking my life. You get that, right? You’re taking something good and destroying it for your own purposes. That’s the opposite of what a mother is supposed to do.”
Her eyes fill as she stares at me, and I feel like I’ve just slapped her. “I know I haven’t been a good mother, but I’ve done what had to be done. The girls at the bowling alley told me what the boys at school said about you, the rumors they spread.”
“One boy spread one rumor. It’s over now.”
“I know that’s my fault. I’m doing something right for once. I’m cleaning up and fixing my life. I’ve met someone and I’m ready to move on. So either help me pack or go to your room.”
“You’re going to change your mind,” I say, maybe more for myself than her. “Packing is a waste of time.”
I wander back to my room in a daze and shut the door behind me. The soft knocking on my bedroom window pulls my attention from my thoughts. In the darkness, I can barely make out William’s face on the other side of the glass.
My chest hurts at the thought of leaving him, but I push the ache aside—there’s no way Mom’s going through with that—and hurry to open the window. “You have something against the front door?” I ask.
He grins. “I didn’t want to wake up your sisters.”
Just the sight of him makes me feel better. His smile warms m
e all the ways down to my toes, and I return his grin as his fingers lace through mine.
“How was poker night?” I ask, determined not to let my disappointment from earlier ruin our time together tonight.
“They’re still going, but I excused myself after a couple hands.”
“By which you mean you’d already lost all your money to the sharks?”
He chuckles. “Maybe I lost on purpose so I could see my girlfriend.”
Oh, God. It’s silly and childish, but I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of him calling me that.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask. I want him to.
“Nope. I want you to come with me.”
I squelch my disappointment and climb out the window to join him. I’d been thinking of locking the door and lying with him in my bed, touching, kissing, letting things go too far. I’m ready to go too far.
He helps me hop down from the window and onto the grass. Unlike when we started dating at this time last year, the weather has been warm. And tonight the sky is so clear, the thick crescent of moon is enough to light the night.
“I missed you.” He steps closer and places his hands on my hips before lowering his mouth to mine. His kiss starts patient and slow. When I fist my hand in his hair and press my body against his, it changes, growing hungry and impatient. When we break the kiss, we’re both breathing heavily.
“You sure you don’t want to come into my room?” I say, grasping on to my courage before it fizzles away. “You could lie down with me.” On me. The idea of the weight of his body on mine sends a shiver through me. The good kind that has my imagination on fire.
He groans, fingers curling hard into my hips. “You’re killing me, Cally. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted me to break your rules.”
“Rules were meant to be broken.”
He blinks at me. “Are you sure?”
Am I? My heart slams in my chest. Nerves. Anticipation. Desire, low and heavy in my stomach and sinking to between my thighs. What if this is my last chance? What if Mom is serious about Vegas?
