Stolen Wishes

by Lexi Ryan

  I shift to catch my balance, and when I settle back down, the hard length of his erection is settled right between my legs. I draw in a breath at how good it feels and flick my eyes back to his sleeping face.

  I’ve wanted to touch him for so long now, and I’ve been too self-conscious. This could be my last chance. I could be leaving at the end of the month. Will wanted us to keep seeing each other while he went away to college, but the nearly two thousand miles between New Hope and Las Vegas is a far cry from the few hours between here and Notre Dame. We’ll be lucky if we see each other a couple of times a year.

  The thought tears through me savagely, and I swallow a sob. I’ll anesthetize the pain of the future with the beauty of the moment.

  I shift back and lower my head to his chest, following the same path my fingers just took with my mouth and kissing my way down that downy-soft hair on his belly. When I reach his waistband, I lift my head to see him staring at me. His chest rises and falls in a rhythm faster than his sleeping breath and his blue eyes have gone smoky. I don’t say anything, just lower his pants down his hips with a light tug.

  He isn’t wearing underwear beneath his sleep pants, and my breath catches at the sight of him. I’ve felt him before—between my legs and through our clothes—but I’m still surprised at his size. But it turns me on too. Seeing how aroused he is. Knowing he’s watching me. That he wants this.

  I put my hand around him, a little unsure and awkward at first, but then he groans—long and low—and I’m emboldened and tighten my hold. I lift my eyes to his face again as I stroke him and he’s still watching me with heavy lids and parted lips. The pleasure on his face is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  I’ve been afraid of becoming my mother. Afraid that sex with William would destroy everything. I underestimated us.

  “Jesus,” he hisses at the first touch of my tongue. “Cally.”

  I might not have done this before, but I’ve read enough issues of Cosmopolitan to have an idea how it’s supposed to go.

  Before long, his hands are tangled in my hair and his moans of pleasure fill my ears, and I’m saying a silent prayer of thanks to all those Cosmo articles.

  ***

  William

  She’s crying. I’m not sure what I did wrong, but it must have been terrible because one second she was snuggling with me on the couch after giving me the most precious gift in the world, and the next her body was shaking and her tears were wetting my bare chest.

  “Sweetie.” I tuck her hair behind her ear and dry her wet cheeks with my thumb. “What’s wrong?” Jesus. Is this about what she just did? Does she think that makes her like her mom? Should I have stopped her? “Talk to me.”

  She draws in a shaky breath, rolls off me, and walks across the room to look out the window. I follow her, my stomach churning and sour. I’ve never seen her this upset.

  “I knew this couldn’t last, but everything was going so well. Now she’s ruining it all.”

  Her words terrify me. I knew this couldn’t last. “You’re not making sense. What couldn’t last?” I already know she’s talking about us, but I don’t want to admit it to myself. I can’t let myself belief she’s ending this. Not now.

  She presses her palm against the glass. “We’re moving.”

  Those were the last words I expected to hear, and at first they don’t even make sense to me. “What?”

  “To Las Vegas. We’re moving to Las Vegas.”

  I feel like the earth has just been yanked out from under my feet, but I make myself take a deep breath. Turning her around, I look into her eyes. “Start from the beginning.”

  “Mom and Dad are getting a divorce, and Mom’s taking us to Vegas to live with this guy she met online.” Her voice shakes and her eyes brim with tears.

  I slide her hand into mine, interlocking our fingers and squeezing. “Can you stay with your dad?”

  She shakes her head, and a tear spills onto her cheek. “He’s going on some spiritual journey in Asia. He’s already left.”

  “You can stay with me,” I blurt. God, my grandmother would pitch a fit, but I ask for so little, and we could make it work. Somehow.

  Cally shakes her head. Another tear escapes. “My sisters. You know my sisters need me. Mom’s cleaning up, but what if that doesn’t last? What if…” She squeezes her eyes shut and her chest shakes with her tears.

  I gather her against my chest and smooth her hair. “Shh,” I whisper. “Shh.”

  I guide her back to the couch, where I pull her into my lap and hold her.

  I keep my thoughts to myself and let her cry. She needs this as much as I need to hold her, to feel her in my arms while I still can.

  My brain is scrambling to come up with reassurances, plans for how we’re going to make this work—because there’s no alternative. We are going to make this work. Anything else would be like rejecting a piece of me. She’s my heart, my breath.

  We’re connected. Tied together by something bigger than ourselves. Like the moon brings the tide back to the shore, the stars will always bring me back to Cally.

  Chapter Nine

  William

  Her room is empty. Her walls are bare, the posters and knick-knacks taken down and packed into the boxes now filling the moving truck parked in her driveway. Her dresser and bed are gone, and her chair and reading lamp with them.

  All that remains is a makeshift sleeping spot on the floor, a small pile with tomorrow’s clothes, and a tiny toiletry bag.

  The sight tears me right in two, but I don’t let on how much I’m hurting. I can’t. I’ve done everything to make the most of our last weeks together, and tonight will be no different.

  “You should get home,” she says. “Get some sleep.”

  We’ve been sitting here most of the night, cuddled into the corner of her room listening to NIN on my iPod. I don’t intend on going anywhere without her tonight, and I certainly don’t intend on sleeping.

  Her mom announced they’ll be leaving at sunrise, and I won’t miss a second with her.

  I stand. “Come with me.”

  She takes my hand and follows me out the front door. I can’t take another moment sitting in that house, watching her eyes scan the bare walls, the empty closet, the spot where the bed used to be. Besides, I have a surprise waiting for her.

  Hand in hand, we walk to town and behind the old factory and onto the dock. I have everything set up for us here. We’ve made a habit of this since our anniversary. Blankets, candles, strawberry wine. From the moment she told me she was moving, I knew this is how I wanted us to spend our last night together.

  She gasps when she sees it, her steps slowing. “You didn’t have to do anything like this.”

  Thunder rolls overhead. The whole weekend has been gray and gloomy, only threatening rain. I say a silent prayer that the downpour that’s sure to come will hold off until morning. I planned for stars. That’s all I wanted for her. For us.

  I light the candles and open the wine. The crystal goblets I snagged from my grandmother’s hutch glint in the candlelight.

  Cally shivers and lowers herself onto the blanket across from me. She avoids my gaze as she sips the wine, and I know she’s trying not to cry.

  “I have something for you,” I say softly. I grab my backpack from where I’d stowed it by the edge of the building and pull out a small red box wrapped in white ribbons.

  She takes it carefully. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “Just open it.”

  She pulls at the ribbons with shaking hands and takes off the lid. I hear the catch in her breath when she sees what’s inside. “But I won’t be here,” she whispers.

  “Yes, you will,” I promise. “One way or another, I’m going to get you here. I don’t want to go to prom with anyone else, Cally. I want to go with you. Tell me you’re on board with that. Tell me I can look forward to dancing with you in my arms.”

  Her face softens and her shoulders sag as she drops her gaze back to the
prom tickets in the box. “Of course. We’ll make it work,” she whispers. And relief rushes through me like fresh air because I know she’s talking about more than prom.

  ***

  Cally

  The night sky is dark with thick rain clouds, blocking the clouds and clogging up my throat as I try to prepare myself to say goodbye. “I can’t see the stars.”

  He turns my face to his. The candlelight flickers in the wind and casts shadows across his gorgeous face. I’ve been living a dream with William. Over a year of a life I never thought I’d get to live, receiving love I didn’t realize existed.

  He presses his lips just below my ear and trails kisses down my face. I melt a little, my defenses falling when I need them most. “We don’t need them tonight.”

  I wish he were right, but I feel like a wish and a dream is all we have. How many high school sweethearts stay together? A few, maybe. But how many high school sweethearts weather the storm of a long-distance relationship and stay together? Maybe in movies. But this is real, and William deserves more than some long-distance girlfriend.

  “She’s being so selfish, taking us away from our life here. Taking me away from you.” I sound petulant even to my own ears, but it’s as if I believe giving voice to my frustrations will fix them. Not true.

  William’s eyes narrow. “Don’t give up on us.” He smoothes my cheek with his thumb. “She can make you move, but she can’t take you away from me. You’re mine. In New Hope, in Nevada, in Timbuktu, you’ll always be mine.”

  He rolls over so he’s hovering over me, his body on mine, his hips pressed to my hips, and he traces the lines of my face with his fingertips. My jaw, my cheeks, my lips. Despite all his bravado, he knows this is goodbye.

  I pull him down to me, press my lips to the side of his neck, his jaw. “Can we really survive a long-distance relationship?” I hate how much I need his reassurances, but I want to hear them. Because even if he’s wrong, his belief in us is the only thing that’s getting me though this.

  “It’ll only be long-distance when we’re apart. You’ll be back for prom. We’ll see each other this summer.”

  “Prom.” The prom his grandmother wanted him to attend with some rich friend’s daughter. Instead, he’s holding out for me. How selfish have I been? He should be with someone better, someone here.

  He slides his hand into my shirt and brushes my breast with his thumb. The single touch sends shivers of pleasure through me that gather in a needy knot of impatience between my legs.

  “Prom,” he repeats. “Just like we planned. Then when school starts, you can visit me at the dorms.”

  And always be scraping for money to buy my next plane ticket or, worse, letting him pay my way time after time. “You deserve better.” But as I say it, I part my legs, wanting to feel him there where I ache. He brings up his knee until his thigh is firmly pressed between mine, and I moan against that delicious pressure.

  “There’s nothing better than you.”

  I blink back tears. “I don’t want to wait for prom night,” I murmur. Because I know now what I need to do. What I need to give him. “I’m ready now.”

  His nostrils flare and his eyes darken. “Are you sure?”

  I wiggle under him and wrap my legs around his waist. I feel him pressing into me. I have to do this. I should have done it a long time ago.

  A tear slips from my eye and rolls down my cheek, and he freezes. “Not tonight. Not while you’re so sad.”

  I feel like I’ve already lost him. “So this is what goodbye feels like.”

  “No,” he growls, and his fingers tighten their hold at my sides.

  “We have to say goodbye. I leave in a few hours.”

  With his thumb against my cheek, he wipes away my tears. “We aren’t going to say goodbye because this isn’t the end of us. It’s only the beginning.”

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I just lie there while he kisses away my tears. “If we don’t say goodbye,” I whisper, “then what do we say?”

  “Look at me.” His voice is firm and strong, but his eyes are soft when I look into them. “This isn’t goodbye.”

  “We can’t pretend that everything is going to be the same.”

  “Hello, Cally.”

  “William—” The intensity of his love breaks my heart. Because even if he can’t see it, I know what’s coming. I’ll be in Las Vegas and he’ll be here. It will be fine at first, but then his grandmother and his friends will pressure him to spend more time out. Eventually he’ll meet someone, because that’s what happens to amazing people. They fall in love with other amazing people.

  “It doesn’t need to be the same,” he says. “I love you, and I’m telling you hello. Hello, Cally.”

  The candlelight catches on a tear on his cheek, making it glisten for a fraction of a second before it falls away. Maybe I’m not the only one who understands what we’re up against.

  Wrapping my arms around him, I pull him to me and he buries his face in my neck, his breath hot and a little shaky. And because I can’t bear his sadness, I whisper, “Hello.”

  THE END

  This is the end of Cally and William’s prequel, but it’s not the end of them. Follow them when they’re reunited seven years later in Wish I May. You’ll find the opening chapter on the following pages.

  Excerpt from Wish I May

  CHAPTER ONE

  Cally

  “In one hundred feet, turn left onto Dreyer Avenue,” my GPS instructs.

  I inch forward, peering out my windshield and scanning the manicured lawn to the left for any sign of a road where there is nothing but grass.

  “Recalculating,” the computerized voice tells me. Her tone suggests frustration with my inability to follow simple instructions. “In one hundred feet, take a U-turn, then turn right on Dreyer Avenue.”

  “There is no Dreyer effing Avenue.” I pound on my steering wheel. This is the fifth time since I returned to Middle-of-Lots-of-Cornfields Indiana that the fucker has tried to turn me into someone’s yard. Thirty minutes ago, she repeatedly directed me to drive right into the damn river. Good thing I decided to drop the girls off at the hotel when we got to town, lest they see their big sister go homicidal on an electronic gadget.

  Yanking at the wheel with unnecessary force, I pull the car over and throw it into park. My chest is tight and my eyes burn with tears I swore I wouldn’t shed today. I made it through the last month without crying. I won’t cry now.

  It’s bad enough that I’ve been reduced to this. Bad enough that I have to rely on my estranged father at all. Bad enough that I have to track his hippie ass down since he’s too goddamned paranoid to carry a cell phone. But here I am.

  “You shouldn’t hate him so much,” my mom told me six months ago. “He hasn’t had an easy life.”

  “I don’t hate him. I’m ambivalent.”

  But that was before Mom’s “heart attack” (code for drug overdose that may or may not fool my sisters). That was before the funeral and the grief and the bills. That was before my life disintegrated around me, as if it were built of nothing but dust.

  I’m exhausted, one sister hates me and the other isn’t speaking, and my ass is sore from being stuck in this car.

  Fresh air. That’s all I need. Then I’ll follow the road back toward the highway and ask a gas station attendant for help.

  I unbuckle and step out onto the paved street. God, it feels good to stretch.

  I can’t get over how green everything is. It’s as if I’ve forgotten the color can exist in nature. The scent of cut grass is almost as rejuvenating as a solid night’s sleep for my state of mind. The air is warm and sticky, and children are playing in the sprinkler on a front lawn down the street.

  I remember doing that as a kid. Before the move. Before the end of our world as we knew it. Is it too late to give my sisters a chance at that childhood?

  Doubt lodges like a soggy lump in my throat.

  “Can I help you?”

  I snap m
y head up, startled. “No, I’m good. I—” My eyes connect with the owner of the voice, and I lose my capacity for speech.

  “Holy shit.” The Adonis from my past narrows his eyes. “Cally?”

  The sound of my name on his tongue catapults me back in time and suddenly I’m sixteen again, his cool cotton sheets sliding against my skin as his fingertips trace the line of my jaw, the hollow of my neck, the curve of my hip. I’m sixteen again and licking sweet strawberry wine from his lips.

  Time has been kind to William Bailey. Bare-chested and glistening with sweat, he has an iPod strapped around his thick biceps and a T-shirt tucked into the side of his running shorts. He’s bigger than he was at eighteen, more built, which is saying something since he was New Hope High School’s star football player back then. My gaze drifts south but gets snagged at the ripple of his abs and the trail of blond hair disappearing into the band of his shorts.

  Sweet Jesus.

  The sound of him clearing his throat has me yanking my eyes back up to meet his.

  “Look at you. You’re all grown up.” He grins, and my knees go a little weak. How could I have forgotten the effect this man’s smile has on my knees?

  “I could say the same for you.” I bite my lip. Hopefully no drool has escaped.

  That knee-killing grin grows wider. I’m toast.

  This isn’t what I expected. Not that I expected anything from William. I hoped to make it through my few days in town without seeing him, but of course not. Here he is. Looking for all the world like he’s actually glad to see me when he should hate me.

  “You live here? I mean around—” Shit. How am I supposed to construct a coherent sentence while looking at his bare chest? And that’s not even taking into account the memories flooding my mind at the sight of him. I may have never had sex with him, but I have enough memories of doing everything else to rival even the most creative fantasies.