Wish I May (23 page)

Pressing my hand against Cally’s back, I fan my fingers until two dip into the waistband of her jean shorts and under the silky smooth material of her panties. She draws in a breath and snuggles closer.

I’m tempted to brush my fingers over her and tease that sensitive skin of her lower back, tempted to whisper something wicked in her ear. But I don’t. I just move my hips to the music, savoring the moment until the song ends.

Her dark eyes hold arousal and sadness and so much I don’t understand. “I’m going to go back to the table,” she whispers.

I nod but I don’t follow her. I need to catch my breath, to get my head right.

I head to the bar and order a beer. Within seconds, Meredith has joined me. She leans against the bar and frowns. “I thought you were out with the guys.”

She’s smiling, as if she’s trying to make it a joke, but the hurt is in her eyes. Meredith is sweet and pretty and sexy, and if I had any sense at all I’d be chasing her instead of a girl who once shattered my heart.

But Meredith isn’t the one I want.

“Cally and her friends were already here.”

“You should have told me she was here with you. Now I feel like an idiot for showing up.”

“What did you think would happen if she wasn’t here?”

She drops her gaze to her hands. “We were good together. I just…I just want you to remember that.”

“This isn’t fair to you, Meredith. You should find someone who deserves you.”

She frowns, her carefully painted lips drawing into a pout. “You said you didn’t want anything serious, and I didn’t believe you because everyone knows that you want to get married. You want to make a family. It’s part of who you are. Only, you were telling me the truth. You didn’t want anything serious. At least, not with me. Those rules don’t apply to Cally.”

“Meredith—”

“No.” She holds up a hand, cutting off my explanation. “Don’t. We’re just friends. That was the deal.” She shakes her head and tucks her purse under her arm. “I’m not a bad catch, you know? Your grandma loves me, and things were going great between us. But suddenly you’re pushing me away because Cally’s back, and Cally… Cally’s not even staying. She’s heading back to Vegas in a few months. Add to that the fact that your grandma can’t stand her. Never could. Never mind that she dropped you without a thought back in high school.”

“That was a long time ago,” I growl.

She shrugs. “People don’t really change, Will. Not much. I hope you know what you’re doing. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Seven Years Ago

I
’M HEADED
to work when the dark SUV slows alongside me and the window rolls down. A man pokes his head out and smiles at me, a sick, calculating smile. I don’t recognize him, but I know without asking that Anthony sent him. His nose is crooked, as if it’s been broken a few too many times, and his dark hair is slicked back with too much gel. He looks so much like a stereotypical movie bad guy, I almost want to laugh. Only there’s nothing funny about the way he’s looking at me or the fear tearing through my stomach.

“Your little sisters sure are cute,” he says.

I freeze in my tracks, my feet glued to the sidewalk.

“That little one, she sure does like the swing at Tyson Park. And the older one, she’s got potential. A couple years and think of the things she could do.” The man grins. “Boss said you can either work off the loan or your sisters can do it for you.”

A chill whips through me, sharp and angry. “No.”

“Anthony doesn’t do second chances, sweetheart. It’s your lucky day. The client you ran out on took a special liking to you. He wants to see you again, requested you personally. You couldn’t have played it better, actually. That one likes a little bit of the chase, and now he won’t take any of the boss’s other girls. Only has eyes for the sweet dark-haired virgin.” His laugh is more like a cackle. “We’ll pick you up tonight. No fucking around this time.” He doesn’t wait for an answer before his window slides back into position and the car pulls away.

I don’t bother going to work. What’s the point? I head home and stare at my phone, trying to figure out what will happen if I call the police. They’ll help me. I won’t have to go to that man again tonight. I won’t have to do the unspeakable things I’m sure to have to do. But what will happen to my sisters? And how long can the police protect me from Anthony and his men?

So I shower and change and wait for Anthony’s car to pick me up.

When my phone rings, William’s name looks at me from the screen of the phone he bought and paid for to keep us together. I send the call to voicemail and steal two pills from Mom’s secret stash.

Present Day

“You little lying, hooky-playing twerp!” I growl as I tap out the text to Drew:
Where are you?

I burst into William’s house looking for her. After I walked Gabby to school, Drew’s truancy officer called to let me know that Drew wasn’t in her first class. Was she sick today?

I caught her playing hooky once before, and if she’s doing it again, I’m going to ground her for a month. If she thinks she’s going to get away with skipping school just because I’m working all the time, she’s got another thing coming.

I storm up the stairs, my anger growing as I burst into the room she and Gabby share. The room is unoccupied. Empty.

“Drew! Where are you?” I head back downstairs, not bothering to quiet my tear through the house. William was already gone when I left with the girls this morning—heading to the gym to squeeze in a workout before opening the gallery. I avoided him after getting home from Brady’s last night. I shouldn’t have let myself dance with him. It felt too good to have his body close, his breath on my ear. By the time he kissed me, I was already too far gone to make a sensible decision.

After hitting the family room and the kitchen, I still haven’t found Drew. I’m starting to worry when my phone buzzes with a text from her.

I’m at school
.

“No,” I grumble. “You’re a liar.”

Then the shower kicks on down the hall, and I’m darting toward the Master before I think about it. His shower is one of those with showerheads on three walls and Drew has been chomping at the bit to try it out.

The door to his bedroom is open and I’m more incensed with every step. William has done so much for us, and this is how she thanks him? Skipping school and using his freaking shower?

I open the door to his bathroom and blink when Will’s running clothes greet me in a neat pile by the door. I freeze, staring at the rumpled pile of cotton, remembering the look of his sweat-slicked skin when he comes off a run.

Move, Cally.

But I can’t.

Then I hear a long and low groan come from the direction of the shower and what I see when I lift my head has my heart racing and my breath going shallow.

Drew isn’t anywhere to be seen. Only William.

Behind the steamy shower door, he stands under the spray, one hand braced against the tile and the other…
oh, hell
…the other wrapped around his shaft as he moves over it in long, even strokes.

His body is gorgeous—broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips. Hard, sculpted muscles that I want to touch with my hands, taste with my tongue, and test with my teeth.

From the angle he’s standing, with only five steps and the steamy glass between us, I see more than I should and so much less than I want. I need to take these feet—the ones that are glued to the bathroom tile—and put them in reverse. I need to back myself right out of this bathroom and figure out where Drew really is. Or hell, maybe I need a shower of my own. A really cold one.

But what I really want is a better view. I want to see the expression on his face as he works himself over. I want to see the ripple of his muscles as he strains against the need to come. I want to open the shower door and—without a word—drop to my knees and replace his hand with my mouth.

Just the thought of it has my legs unsteady. Who knew the thought of giving a blow job could turn me on so much? With anyone else it probably wouldn’t, but this is William, and my heart slams in my chest as I imagine filling my mouth with him, his hands in my hair as I take him deep, his ass flexing under my hands.

The thought is more than enough to turn me on. It’s almost enough to get me off.

He groans again, longer, lower, deeper this time, and I know this is the moment I have to make my decision. Either get the hell out of dodge or muster up enough courage to join him.

As much as I hate to leave, I’m too much of a coward to stay. I stumble back. My heel hits the trash can and I jump. My hands fly out to the sides to catch my balance and my arm whacks the sink as I go down.