Inspire (17 page)

And just like that … I’m shot back down to Earth.

I turn my blinker on, and let him direct me through the next few turns until we end up in a residential neighborhood. The truth is … I don’t know the first thing about being in a real relationship. Every guy I’ve ever dated (if you can even call it that) came with an expiration date. They were a job. That’s how I had to think of them to keep from getting attached or feeling guilty or letting it all go to my head. Fact is … there are teenagers out there with more experience living and loving than me.

And that might be the most depressing thought I’ve had in ages (literally …
ages
).

I clear my throat. “So … what did you think of everyone?”

Wilder’s eyes flick to me briefly, but he still doesn’t turn to face me. “I like Lennox.”

“Because she’s on your side?”

He does look at me then, but it’s a look so dark and filled with frustration that it cracks something in me. I’m not sure I’ve ever been given a look quite like that before. Even the artists who grew to hate me after I ended things had looked at me with a obsessive passion that didn’t know whether it was hate or love and tended to hover somewhere in between.

Wilder doesn’t look at me with
hate
, per say. But he very clearly wants to be done with me. There is anger and annoyance and possibly a little hurt in that look. But he isn’t addicted to my energy the way men have been in my past. And perhaps without my ability, I’m not quite as desirable as I’ve always believed.

“Slow down. It’s up here on the right.”

I do as he says, even though I feel like I’m shedding layers of my long dormant heart every time I hear the flatness of his voice that used to be so warm and low.

The apartment complex he has me pull into is reminiscent of row houses, but these are boxier, plainer—the knock-off version designed only with cost in mind. He directs me to the third cluster of buildings, and I pull straight into an open parking space right in front of the curb. His seatbelt is undone before I even get the car in park. Then his door is open, and he’s unfolding his long legs, and he’s disappearing.

I’ve never allowed regret a foothold in my life. There’s no point, not when you live as long as I do. If you miss out on something in one century, you’ll catch it the next time history decides on a replay. Forever means unlimited opportunities to get things right.

But now I can taste the regret, clogging up my lungs and lining my throat. I’m very nearly choking on it because this,
Wilder
, is not something that history will ever repeat. It’s now or it’s
never
.

“Thanks for the ride, Kalli.”

The whole car shudders with the thud of his door closing, and his strides up the sidewalk toward the house on the far right are quick, one step down from a jog.

Before I can think about it long enough to weigh the pros and cons, I turn off the car and bolt after him. I run. I’ve never in my existence ran after anything. There was never that kind of urgency. Generally, if I’m running, I’m running away. Maybe it’s the invisible cord around me buzzing with approval, but it feels right that Wilder should be the one that changes that.

“Wait. Wilder, wait!”

He’s ascending the small flight of stairs to the front porch by the time I catch up to him. He turns, and I slow as I climb those last few steps. Time gets away from me then, making a mockery of all my thoughts of it being my constant. The seconds skip like a scratched record, and my heart jerks just as unpredictably in my chest. I take the one final step to put me beside him on the porch. There’s a lantern suspended to the left of the door, and the glow reflects off his face, catching on his blond curls and turning them a reddish gold.

His expression is wary, but it’s not as dark as it had been in the car. His hand is outstretched, paused in the act of reaching for the door handle, and I’m so terrified that he’ll finish the movement and escape inside before I can put my thoughts into words that I step in front of him, blocking the way.

I take a breath, try to ignore the thunderstorm of emotions in my chest and say, “I’m sorry.” When in doubt, apologize, right? “I know that you’re angry.”

His brows knit together, and that darkness is creeping back into his expression and his stance. I rush on to add, “I don’t know how to say this. I don’t know how to
do
any of this. But I—” Oh gods. There’s no turning back after I say this. I’m at the ledge, and I either back away or leap over. There’s no in between. My feet say jump. My knees and my hips and my belly and my breasts—they’re all dying to move forward, to close the distance and reclaim that spot in his arms. But my head holds out.

Because this …
experiment
isn’t just about me. He should have a say in this. But I can’t explain, and even if I could, he wouldn’t understand. If I’m wrong, if I’m unable to keep the two halves of my life separate … he’ll be the one to pay the price.

“I—” The words won’t come. They just won’t. I look at him, lost and sorry and wanting, and then he takes the choice from me.

One large hand presses into my stomach, pushing me back against the outer glass door. The glass is cold even through the layers of clothes, but his hand is warm as it slips from my abdomen to my side. His body crowds mine, and I love the way he towers over me. The thread between us is nearly electric now, and it winds tighter and tighter as he moves closer. He plants a hand next to me on the door, and dips down enough that his forehead rests against mine. This close, our noses touch and our gazes collide, and I can feel his exhale on my lips.

I feel the urge to beg. For what… I don’t even know. For something. For
him
.

“Yes or no, Kalli. You don’t get it one moment at a time. Not anymore. I can’t fucking take that. You’re in or you’re out.”

I think
YES
so forcefully that it hurts. But my mouth remains stubborn. “First, you have to know that I’m not like other girls you’ve been with.”

“Don’t I fucking know it.” His fingers fist at the back of my sweater, pulling it tight against my belly and lifting it just enough that the cool winter air nips at my waist.

“I mean it. There are things you don’t know. I wasn’t lying when I said that I’m not good for you. I’m really not. But I think I might be selfish enough not to care.”

The hand at my back slides down until it rests just shy of the curve of my behind, and his other hand takes hold of my jaw. Tipping my head up, he drags a heavy thumb over my bottom lip. It stretches and pulls under his attention, and he touches my teeth, followed by the soft, wet inside of my lip.

“And I’m selfish enough to want you all to myself. This mouth … I want to be really fucking selfish with your mouth, Kalli. I want to kiss and lick and bite it. I want to feel it on my skin. I want
to
use
it
and
worship
it, and I want to do it a lot. Every day. Who knows if anyone is good for anyone else? There might be someone out there better for you than me, but I’m selfish enough to hope you never meet him. All we ever know is who we want, and I think you want me just as badly as I want you.”

I tilt my chin up, my whole body straining forward to meet his. My underwear grows damp and my nipples tight—my body begging for more since my mouth took too long. Against his lips, I whisper, “Yes.”

“Don’t say that unless it’s your answer for the whole thing. We’re talking all or nothing, baby.”

My eyes catch on the Atlas tattoo on his arm. And maybe it’s a sign that I’m doing something worthy of punishment. But I choose to think of it as a suggestion. If he can hold up the heavens, keep the worlds separate and safe, then I can keep the same distance between Kalliope the muse and Kalliope the woman.

“All,” I answer. “I want it all.”

Then his tongue is in my mouth, and he tastes like alcohol and heat and everything I never let myself want. His lean, hard arms wind around my middle, pulling me so far into him that I have to bow my back to keep our mouths connected. His legs are braced wide, and my own press tight between them so that I can feel him hard and heavy beneath the confines of his jeans. The contact sends a shudder through me, leaving me
honest to gods
weak in the knees.

I slide my hand over the nape of his neck, and up into his hair, and he groans into my mouth. I soak up the sound, overwhelmed with a frantic energy that can only be joy. Supreme, complete, life-altering joy. Every part of me is humming with it—my body as it remembers the shape of his, my mind as he eclipses every other thought, and the indefinable connection as it jumps and pulses between us like it carries a heartbeat of its own.

Fate. Destiny. Whatever it’s called … I’ve never been so grateful for mine. And as I allow myself to admit that Wilder is part of that destiny, I feel a tear coast over my cheek.

“God,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Kissing you is even better than I remember.”

I laugh, positively giddy at his words. “Could be the alcohol.”

“No, it’s you. There’s something about you. About us together …” he groans. “I don’t have the words, and I hate that. I hate that I can’t tell you exactly how beautiful you are or how good you feel because everything feels pale in comparison to the reality. If there are words that do it justice, I don’t know them. But I swear I’ll learn them, invent them if I have to.”

I breathe in, and he pulls me closer. “Maybe we don’t need the words. Maybe it’s enough that we both know.”

“Do we? You feel it, too?” His voice is ragged and raw, and the intensity in his eyes makes me shiver.

“I feel it.”

With a growl, he claims my mouth again, pulling me in so tight that he lifts me up onto my toes. I bury my other hand in his hair, too, holding tight to him and this moment and a future that I’m suddenly terrified to lose. Wanting to be closer, needing to feel more of him, I wrap my legs around his waist. He slides one arm down from my waist to my bottom to brace me, and just as he leans me back into the front door, a brighter light washes over us from behind. A creaking noise tells me that the regular door behind the outer glass one has just opened. We’re both reluctant to break the kiss, to end this moment, but when we do, I glance over my shoulder to see a middle-aged woman in scrubs. She’s pretty and has Wilder’s light hair and expressive eyes. With one hand on her hip, her eyes skim me briefly before settling on Wilder with a frown.

My head is still wrapped up in the chaotic excitement of giving in to our attraction, so it takes me a few seconds to remember than my legs are wrapped around his waist, and I immediately let them fall. He keeps his arm bracketed around my waist until my feet are back on the ground, and then he pulls away. His hand goes to the nape of his neck, and he gives a tentative smile.

“Hey Mom. I was just about to come inside.” She makes a noise that sounds distinctly disbelieving and raises her eyebrows in response.

This can’t be happening. I cannot meet his mother like this.

“This is Kalli. I’d had a few drinks so she gave me a ride home.”

My eyes get stuck on a smudged handprint Wilder left on the glass, and I see her eyes track there too. Oh gods. It just keeps getting worse.

“Well.” I clear my throat. “I should probably get going. It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”

She smiles, and though it looks a little stiff, it seems genuine. “Nice to meet you, too.”

Wilder grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together. “Don’t leave yet. Stay.”

My eyes widen, and my cheeks flush. He can’t possibly think it’s a good idea to bring me inside after
that
. Before I can devise an answer that will please him and prevent his mother from hating me, a high-pitched squeal distracts us all.

Gwen appears at her mother’s side, two small hands pressing onto the glass door a few feet below the mark that Wilder and I left.

“Kalli! You’re here. I asked Santa for you to come to Christmas, and you’re here!”

“Well,” Wilder’s mother says, her expression unreadable. “It seems I’m the last to meet you, Kalli. Come on inside before I have a mutiny on my hands.”

“Really, I don’t want to intrude.”

“Nonsense, Wilder could probably use some help getting Gwen settled down and back to sleep once I’m gone. She can be a handful.” She says this with an almost vindictively sweet smile, and I can imagine that she thinks a few hours with a five-year-old will act as a deterrent to what she saw when she opened the door.

But all I can think about is that first day in the grocery store, how jealous I’d been of Wilder and his relationship with Gwen. And I know I’m not just in danger of falling for him, but falling for all of it.

Him. His family. His life.

This is what it’s like to crave something. To get addicted from one tiny taste.

Chapter Sixteen

Wilder

Probably not the brightest move, asking Kalli to stay after Mom caught me practically dry humping her against the front door. Okay, so there was no
practically
about it. But then again, I hadn’t made a lot of bright moves tonight period.

Funny, though, how I don’t regret any of them.

I open the door, and Gwen tumbles forward in her eagerness. I barely manage to throw out a hand and catch her before she falls over the threshold and onto the concrete porch.

“Easy, girl. Why don’t you just step back so Kalli and I can come inside?”

She does, bouncing on her toes like it’s broad daylight instead of the middle of the night. I wonder if she’s just woken up or if she’s been awake for a while. I start to ask Mom as I usher Kalli inside with a hand at her back, but the look she’s wearing silences me.

I expected the awkwardness. It doesn’t matter how old you get, it’s still weird to make out with someone anywhere near your parents, let alone with them watching. I’m surprised by how upset she seems, angry even. She’s quick to hide it when Kalli looks back at me over her shoulder.

“I really need to get going,” Mom says. “But can I speak to you first? In the kitchen?”