by Erika Kelly
“Obviously.” He chuckled.
Caught staring at his package, heat swept up her neck and flooded her cheeks. “Oh, get over yourself. Goodnight, Fin.” Just as she reached for the door, she realized she couldn’t leave flustered and speechless. She had to pull herself together. Prove she was in no way lost. “Look, let’s just focus on the exhibition and forget tonight happened. Starting tomorrow morning we’ll just be cordial to each other.”
“Cordial’s not really in the Bowie playbook, but I gotcha. No more kissing.”
“No. No more of that.”
“I’ll get my community service changed.”
A slow roil in her stomach churned out sickening heat. The idea of losing him—not seeing him every day—sent her into a panic. She would miss his laughter, so loud, so genuine, it made everyone join in even if they weren’t in on the joke. Those strong, capable hands that could fix anything. The boys had grown up relying on their bodies, wits, and instincts to get them out of scrapes. There wasn’t anything they couldn’t fix. That’s hot.
She cut a wary look to him. “You don’t want to work with me anymore?”
He sat up, big hands on his thighs. “I think it’s pretty clear I can’t be around you and not touch you.”
She understood that. It was exhausting to fight against her natural impulses around him, but they couldn’t go there again. Not when she was leaving town so soon.
“You know that big bang theory Mrs. Summerville taught us in Astronomy?” he asked.
The fluttery feeling in her heart made it hard to respond. She barely nodded.
“You and me.” His casual slouch belied the intensity of his tone. “We’re two particles that got split in half. And no matter how far away you are, I feel you.” He tapped his heart. “In here. You’re my sun. And you could be in New York or on Jupiter, and I’m still going to feel the pull. The closer you are, the stronger the pull.” He shrugged. “It is what it is.”
Her heart punched the lights out of its jailor and broke free. “Fin.” Emotion saturated her voice.
“Yeah, wild thing. I’m right here.”
When he pushed himself up to a sitting position, she took off, skin tingling from the rush of affection for this man.
He had just enough time to get to his feet, when her body hit his. He grunted with the impact, but those strong arms came around her, enveloped her.
“Callie.” He breathed her name, just as he dropped back onto the mattress, taking her with him. Nothing—nothing—on this earth felt as good as being in his strong, powerful arms. As his warmth seeped into her cold and lonely bones, he pressed kisses to her temple, her forehead, her cheek, everywhere his mouth could reach.
Yes, she was lost. And she only knew that because of this connection. No matter how she tried to cover it with a busy schedule and never-ending goals—to get straight As, to graduate, to get into a master’s program, to get the fellowship—no matter how fast a pace she set, she couldn’t outrun her feelings for him. We’re two particles that got split in half.
She’d thought her inability to let him go meant she was weak, but it had never been as simple as missing him—missing the habit of him. No, he was embedded in her. And she knew that because being in his arms felt exactly like coming home after living out of a suitcase and sleeping on strange, uncomfortable mattresses for far too long.
A strong hand cupped her chin, aligning their mouths. That first hit of contact—the heat and indescribable softness of his tongue—made her blood sizzle. His hands swept down her back, cupping her ass, and pressing her hard against him.
He kissed her deeply, lavishly, like he thought she might leave and he had to get in as much of her as he could. And that drove her wild. His possessive grip told her he wanted her with every fiber of his being. The same way she wanted him.
Her heart pounded so furiously it hurt, and she needed to feel him everywhere. She ran her fingers through his scruff, cupped the back of his neck, and rocked her hips against him. Desperation clawed at her, the need to get closer, deeper, be swallowed up so they could finally join with their whole bodies and souls.
His hand pushed under the elastic waistband of her leggings and gripped her bare ass.
“You better want this, wild thing.” The growl in his voice set her on fire. “Tell me right the fuck now.”
Her blood raced so fast she could hardly find the breath to speak, but he wouldn’t touch her until she answered, so she pushed out a, Yes.
Rolling her onto her back, he pushed off the bed and yanked the towel off.
Dear God, that magnificent body was all hers. She took him in, from his muscled thighs to his thick, hard erection, all the way up that powerful torso. When she reached his handsome face he cracked a cocky smile.
“Oh, get over yourself.” Laughing, she reached for the waistband of her leggings, but he grabbed her ankles and dragged her toward the edge of the mattress.
“Can’t help it if I like the way you look at me.” Yanking down her leggings and panties, he tossed them aside. “Top off. I get all of you. Every single inch is mine.”
With shaky fingers, she unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged out of it. Next went the tank top underneath, but when she reached behind her for the bra clasp, he lunged. Straddling her waist, he sat on his heels and skimmed his hands across her ribs and under her back. With one flick, he watched greedily as the bra loosened, and he flung it aside it. His big, warm hands cupped her breasts, and his features melted into pure, raw relief. Thumbs flicking her nipples, his gaze lifted to hers. “You feel this?”
She nodded, bones melting, toes curling with the sensations his touch stirred up.
He leaned over until his mouth was at her ear. “There’ve been days when I couldn’t stand it, being so far from you. Thought I’d lose my mind. But right now?” He drew her breasts together, licking first one nipple and then the other, and then lazily, sensuously caressing the sensitive tip with his tongue. “I’m full. This is all I need. Us.”
Desire roared through her body, making her jittery. But he didn’t give her a moment to get her bearings. With firm pressure—as if he didn’t want to miss a single curve or valley—his hand glided down her body until he found her wet, aching center. She arched into his touch, a flash fire racing across her skin.
His thumb rubbed a steady, maddening circle on her clit, while his fingers stroked her inner walls, making her cry out. He sucked on her nipple, tongue flicking the tip, sending a blaze of electric heat along on her limbs. “Fin.”
She wanted his slick, hot mouth between her legs, his tongue swirling all over her sensitive nub, so she nudged the top of his head, her hips shifting restlessly. He responded instantly, pressing kisses down her stomach and along her inner thigh. Pushing her legs apart, he licked into her wet heat before taking the time to discover all the hidden places that made her hips rise and her fingers grip the sheet.
Erotic sensation spread, swirled, in a rising tension that had her desperate for release. It felt so good, so delicious, and it was Fin. She thrilled at the sight of his long, dark hair gleaming in the soft light, his powerful shoulders spreading her legs wide. His big hands pushed under her ass, lifting her to his hungry mouth. It was all so unbearably exciting that desire whipped into a frenzy until she burst wide open. Freefalling through a space filled with light, heat, and sparkling color, she chanted, “Oh, God, oh, my God. Fin.”
One last lick, and he rose above her like a predator. “I want you bare.”
A shock of lust spiked through her at his gravelly voice, that fierce look in his eyes. “You can have me any way you want.” She was on the pill, and she knew Fin would never compromise her safety.
“Fuck, wild thing. Fuck.” Lowering himself, he took possession of her mouth, his kiss urgent, wild, like he was mad with lust.
She tore her mouth away. “God, Fin.” It was just so intense.
His head lifted. “What?”
“Nothing. It’s just…the way you kiss me. No on
e’s ever wanted me the way you do.”
“That’s right. Because it’s fucking us.” He sat back on his heels, gripping her thighs and pulling her onto his lap. Grasping his cock, he gave himself a few hard tugs. “I want to watch.” Planting a hand by her ear, he leaned forward and pressed at her opening. Slowly, gently, he eased inside. Color bloomed on his cheeks.
Every inch of her lit up as he pressed inside, sparks flaring. “You feel so good,” she said.
From the sound deep in his throat, she knew he agreed. He watched himself slide out and back in a few times, excruciatingly slowly, the strain building in his biceps, his jaw, and his neck.
The want became unbearable. “Now, Fin.”
His gaze flicked up to her.
“I want to feel how much you want me.”
His expression said, You don’t know?
“No one touches me the way you do, and I miss it. I miss you. You fill me up. And I just…I need it. I need you.”
His thighs pulled out from under her, and her bottom hit the mattress. Palms braced at either side of her head, he gave her a look filled with want and lust and so much love, and she reached up to run her fingers through his silky hair. “My Fin.”
For a moment, his gaze caressed her features, and then he closed his eyes and snapped his hips. Sensation exploded, and her back arched off the mattress, as he powered into her. A sheen of perspiration broke across his skin, and his eyelids fluttered as if he was forcing them to stay open so he could watch her as he unleashed all his pent-up desire.
He slid a hand under her ass, tilting her hips, and her body burned as the friction drove her wild.
When he tucked his face into her neck, his skin turned hot and damp, and his powerful thrusts reawakened her craving for him. That frantic need for more, harder, deeper. She wrapped herself tightly around him, never wanting to lose this connection, this intensity.
His breathing grew ragged, and every time he drove home, he let out a grunt. With perspiration trickling down the side of his face, he shifted so he could watch her and, instead of the badass, confident, daredevil, she saw a vulnerable, wary man.
And that knocked her right out of the moment.
He’d told her he didn’t want this kind of intimacy until she was ready. He’d worried it would scare her off.
“Wild thing?” His thrusts slowed, but she could feel the tremble in his arms. “You with me?”
Fear slid into her bloodstream. She’d gotten carried away, because yes, she was in it with him right now, but it wasn’t like it could lead anywhere, right? She was going back to New York. She’d be stupid to give up everything she worked for to stay with him.
And as much as her heart screamed, God, yes, I’m with you all the way, she couldn’t ignore the warning flares shooting out from the rational part of her brain.
This isn’t going to end well.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“May I come in?”
Callie turned to see a petite, elderly woman in high-waisted khakis and a pale blue Polo shirt standing in the entryway. “Of course, but we don’t open to the public until tomorrow.” She climbed down the ladder and headed over, reaching for a postcard on her way. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
Her wrinkled hands tightened on her purse, as if she didn’t want Callie to see inside. “I read in the paper there’s a wall.” She took a slow scan of the room, her gaze lingering on particular objects.
She seemed an odd mix of confused and determined, so Callie figured she should explain the exhibition. “This is the Exhibition of Broken Hearts. It—”
“Yes, I know what is. I read there’s a wall where we can connect with people.”
“Hm. I don’t know what you mean by connecting with people, but we do have one called ‘Show Me Your Heart.’ It’s a curated selection of stories people sent in, along with a symbol of the broken relationship.” She reached for the empty branch above her head. “This tree is for visitors to hang their own stories. Is that what you meant?”
The woman barely spared it a glance, so Callie kept talking. “The wall back there is where people can post a question to the ex who hurt them.”
The woman lifted her purse. “A question? Okay, I’d like to do that.” She looked at once hopeful and anxious.
“Good. I’m Calliope Bell, by the way.”
The woman tore her gaze away from the back wall. “Helen.”
“Let’s head back there, Helen.” She started off. “You see that basket?” She’d set up a long console table in front of the wall. On one end she had a basket full of numbered papers. “You write your question and pin it to the wall. That basket”—she pointed to the opposite end of the table—“has papers with correlating numbers. If the person who broke your heart happens to show up here, he can pin his answer next to yours.”
“Oh?” Helen perked up.
“We don’t expect to get answers, of course. It’s more about voicing that one question we keep asking ourselves since the break-up. We all want to know why they did what they did, but most of the time we never get the chance. And I think if we ever want to heal, we need to finally say it out loud, you know? Even if the person never hears it, it helps to just say it in this public forum, this…community we’re creating.”
But she wondered if anyone could really answer such a complex question. Why did you fall out of love? When? Why did you open the door to someone else—instead of ending our relationship first? Thankfully, that hadn’t been her issue with Fin.
Fin. The thought of him hit like a shock of ice cold lake water. In a million years, she’d never imagined doing the walk of shame away from his house. She’d crept out the door before anyone had awakened, and then, instead of dealing with the fact that they’d slept together, she’d kept him busy all morning with a list of errands.
Coward.
“I don’t have a question.” Helen’s firm tone drew her back to the moment. “I just want to leave a note for someone. Can I do that?”
Well, this woman had certainly aroused her curiosity. “A note?”
“Yes. I’d like to leave a note in case he stops by.”
“We don’t have a place like that.”
The woman looked crestfallen.
“Maybe if I understood a little better. What kind of message are we talking about?”
“I want to explain why I didn’t choose him.” Anguish seemed to live in this woman’s joints. She dug into the purse and pulled out an envelope. It shook with the force of her determination. “I want him to read this.”
“Oh.” Callie had designed everything for the people who’d been wronged. She’d never considered hearing an apology or explanation from the person who’d done the hurting. “That’s…that would be incredibly powerful. I like that idea a lot.” She looked around the room. “I don’t know where we’d put it.” They’d taken such care in arranging the exhibition to leave empty spaces. She took a moment to scan the room, and a rush of pride hit her. It looked good. Really good. She could never repay the Cooters, Mr. Martin, the donors, and Fin for all their help in putting this amazing show together in just two weeks.
She turned back to the woman. “What if we set up an easel with a corkboard on it? You could tack your note to it. We’ll call it Connections. Does that sound good?”
Helen’s chest rose as she drew in a breath. “Regret. Can we call it that?”
“Yes.” God, this woman. “That’s even better.” This petite woman packed so much raw emotion, such determination, that Callie knew she’d do anything to help her find the person she’d hurt.
“Will it be up by the time you open tomorrow morning?”
“Actually, the preview for donors and press is tonight, so you can leave it with me. At lunchtime, I’ll stop by the store and pick up an easel. It’ll be all set for tonight.” She reached for the letter.
But Helen quickly stuffed it back into her bag. “No, thank you. He wouldn’t come for that.” Busy with snapping her purse closed,
she said, “He might not come at all.” She started for the door but hesitated. “His wife passed a few years back, and I hear he’s retiring. I think he’ll leave town. There’s nothing for him here anymore.” She looked up at Callie. “I want him to know that I’m here. That I made a foolish, stupid choice.”
Every hair on Callie’s body shot upright, as she waited for more. Tell me.
“He had to stay here. His mother, his siblings, they needed him. And I had to go.” She took in a sharp breath, the fingertips on her purse yellow with the pressure of her grip. “I should’ve stayed.” Her shoulders pushed back, as she cleared her face of regret. “Will it be crowded on Saturday?”
“I believe so.” Beyond the announcements in newspapers and social media, she knew word-of-mouth from Marla and her art-loving friends would have an enormous impact.
“I’ll be here when you first open.” Helen finally met her eyes, hers drenched with sadness, and she said a quiet, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She watched the woman pull open the door and leave the building. She couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand that woman’s pain and regret. Wanting to do something—anything—to ease it in some way, Callie grabbed her phone off the library table. Forget lunch hour, she’d ask Fin to pick up an easel right now.
Really? You’re giving him one more errand?
But as soon as she swiped the screen, she noticed a pile of messages. She hadn’t checked in a while. When she saw Julian’s name, she got a surprising zing of fear. Because what did they have left to talk about? If he’d forgotten to send her something, he could just mail it. Or, better yet, hold onto it until she got back in a few weeks.
Just read it. She touched the screen with the tip of her finger to open the text.
Please return my grandmother’s bracelet at your earliest convenience.
Her hand went immediately to her wrist, but of course she’d taken it off that morning before her shower. She’d been in such a rush to get to work—after sleeping with Fin last night—that she’d forgotten to put it back on.
At your earliest convenience?