Meeting Mr. Wright

by Cassie Cross

  He searches my eyes, and maybe he knows. Maybe he can see all the doubt inside of me.

  “You flipped a switch in me that had been off for a long time,” he says. “That night, with you, everything just…lit up.”

  My heart skips, and the air around me feels so heavy all of a sudden. I don’t care about cleaning up or about the trash we’re going to leave out here, I don’t care about anything other than Nate’s smile, and the warmth of his hand, the way his skin feels against mine. I want to feel his hands on me, everywhere.

  I slide my fingers through his and we just go together, like my palm was made to fit against his. I lead him across the yard and into the house, through the living room and down the long hallway that leads to our rooms. We pass mine, and walk into his. I turn on the light and close the door.

  Nate looks a little surprised, and I want to kiss that surprise right out of him. He has questions, I know he does. I don’t have many answers, not yet. Maybe I never will, but I think he understands that about me. He understands a lot about me without really knowing all that much. He’s brought back some of the confidence I lost when I found Ethan cheating on me all those months ago. He’s made me feel desirable again; it’s something I’ve been missing for far too long.

  I untangle our fingers and bring both of my hands to rest on his chest, using his body as leverage as I push myself up on my tiptoes to press my mouth against his. The kiss is soft and tender; very slow, and exactly what I need. Nate’s hands come to rest on my hips, steadying me, his fingertips slipping beneath my shirt, branding the skin there. I pull away for just a second to unzip his sweatshirt.

  “Callie,” Nate says, his voice very tight. “What…” My fingertips stretch across the taut muscles on his abdomen, up along his chest, and the question gets caught in his throat.

  As I slide the sweatshirt off his shoulders and into a puddle on the floor, I whisper, “You flipped a switch.”

  NATE CRADLES my face in his hands, his eyes locked with mine as he gently drags the pads of his thumbs along my overheated cheeks. There are specks of gold buried under all that blue. I’ve never noticed them before, even though I’ve been close enough to see them. Maybe I never truly looked for them; maybe I’ve been too afraid to really see them, been too afraid to look deep enough to see the emotion that hides beneath the surface of Nate’s beautiful, expressive eyes.

  The air between us holds a current; it’s charged with something that’s making every single nerve in my body stand on end. Every time Nate touches me, the electricity doubles, creating this sublime, almost unbearable surge of energy around us. It’s so completely unlike our last time together, but still incredibly familiar. Everything about this feels amazing, wonderful.

  It feels inevitable.

  Nate’s hands slide back and cradle my head as he gives me a gentle, tender kiss. Then those soft, perfect lips ghost across my cheek and brush against the shell of my ear. He buries his face in my hair, breathing deep, and I cling to him, running my fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck, tugging gently the way I know he likes. One of his arms bands around my back, the other around my waist, and he holds me so tight. Tight enough that I think he’s trying to imprint my body with his, tight enough that I think he might be afraid to let me go. Like if he lets me go, I’ll disappear.

  I want to tell him that I’m here, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, but I can’t tell him that. Trying to convince him otherwise would ruin this anyway.

  He lifts my shirt over my head, tossing it to the side and then he unclasps my bra, sliding it down my shoulders. His fingertips gently ghost across my collarbone, down the valley between my breasts. His palms slide up and down my sides, cupping the swell of my breasts before the pads of his thumbs tease my nipples. He touches me very slowly, testing out all the ways he can make my body respond to him, and he watches me like he’s trying to commit every single second of this to memory. Then his mouth and tongue follow the path his hands have just taken.

  I let my hands explore his chest. I memorize the ridge of every muscle, the raised plane of every scar. I taste the salty sweetness of his skin, licking and sucking and nipping him with my teeth, doubling my efforts whenever he gasps or sighs or groans, which is often.

  Curling my fingers around the waistband of his jeans, I pull him with me as I walk backwards, falling onto the bed when the backs of my knees hit the mattress. Nate laughs, god it’s my favorite sound, and I make quick work of his zipper, pulling his jeans and boxers down until they fall around his ankles. I skim my fingernails along Nate’s upper thigh, across the dips in his hips, drawing a light hiss from his mouth and making goosebumps bloom all over his tanned skin. I slide my palm down his erection and his head tilts back as he exhales in complete satisfaction. I can’t help but smile, and I’m driven by this newfound power that I feel just knowing that I have this gorgeous man completely at my mercy.

  My hands slide from his hips to the curve of his ass, and I spread my legs as I grip him, giving him room to come closer. I lick him from shaft to tip, gently taking him into my mouth. I hollow out my cheeks, taking him as far into my mouth as I can, and every muscle in Nate’s body seems to tense up, although he still seems very relaxed. His hands tangle almost lazily through my hair as he watches me sucking him, his eyes a little unfocused and his lids hooded to the point where I can only make out the faintest hint of blue. Just when he’s on the brink of coming—I can tell by the way his breathing speeds up and the way my name is falling from his lips, like he’s praying and begging at the same time—he gently pushes me back on the bed, sliding me up towards the headboard. He holds himself up over me as he reaches over and grabs a condom out of his nightstand, then he finds a pillow somewhere behind me, fluffing it up before he lifts my head and slides the pillow underneath it.

  Nate smiles down at me, one hand gripping the sheets beside my head, the other one possessively splayed across the side of my neck. I reach up and brush my fingers along the corner of his mouth, luxuriating in the feeling of his stubble beneath my fingers. He turns his head, kissing my palm, then he kisses a trail down my wrist, my inner arm, across my breasts, down my stomach. He kneels between my legs and clasps his hand around my ankle, bringing it up to rest on his shoulder. He kisses the inside of my calf and I laugh, which makes him smile against my skin. He kisses his way down to my knee, where he nips a bit of skin between his teeth, then continues down the inside of my thigh, brushing his whiskers along the spots that he knows will make me squirm. I reach up and thread our fingers together, my right hand, his left, and he squeezes my fingers before letting them go.

  “Nate,” I whisper, so desperate to feel him in the one place he’s so purposefully ignored. I expect him to tell me to be patient, but he doesn’t. He spreads me open and licks my clit, slowly at first, but he speeds up to match the quickness of my breath. He pushes his fingers inside of me, curling them up when I arch my back. We are an endless circuit of action and reaction; he intently watches me, adjusting his plan on the fly. He doubles-down on the moves that bring me closer to the edge and does away with the ones that don’t. I’m so close, so close, but when his blue eyes meet mine as he lovingly strokes my hip with his free hand, a pang of affection strikes me deep in my chest, swelling up and wrapping itself around my heart.

  I realize that over the last year or so I’ve allowed myself to become accustomed to fucking; I’ve settled for the simple rush of release, of following a checklist. Do this to get that, get that to feel this. I haven’t been so intimately connected to someone in so long, the feeling is overwhelming. I reach down and run my fingers through Nate’s hair, pressing my head back against the pillow as my orgasm slowly washes over me, warm and wonderful. He slowly rubs his hands up and down my thighs, pressing kisses there as my breathing slows and my heartbeat stops thundering in my ears.

  I sit up and unwrap the condom, unrolling it down the length of Nate’s erection. He’s looking at me strangely, like maybe something’s wrong,
and absolutely nothing is wrong, but everything is different. I don’t think I have the words to explain it, no matter how much I wish that I did.

  “C’mere,” I tell him, crooking my finger.

  He leans down, hands planted firmly on either side of my hips. I gently take his face in my hands, letting the tip of my nose skim across his cheekbones, his chin. And then our lips barely touch and we breathe each other in until I move forward little and he does too, our mouths connecting in a kiss that’s long and deep. I pull him down on top of me, letting him settle between my legs.

  He looks down at me, eyes swimming with so many emotions. “Callie-”

  “Put your arm around me,” I whisper, just wanting him to do what I say without asking me any questions. “Around my back.”

  He slides his hand just below my shoulder blades until I can feel is fingers pressing into my side, then he pushes a strand of hair off my face with his free hand. “Are you okay?”

  I nod, trying not to cry. I’m okay. I’m more okay than I’ve ever been, actually, but I just need this, my way.

  I push my hips up, taking Nate by surprise as he slips inside me, and I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him deeper. My arms wind around his shoulders, and he lets out a small, shaky breath as his eyes meet mine.

  “Like this, okay?” I say, clinging to him. He barely has any room, but he’ll make it work. “Just like this.”

  He nods, not really able to say anything, or maybe there just isn’t anything to say. He presses his forehead to mine as he moves, and my breath catches in my throat as I start to ask him to kiss me. But he knows, he always knows what I need, so his lips meet mine as we rock together, and I hold him like I’m never going to let go. Like I wouldn’t let him go, like I can’t. And I love the way his skin feels against mine, the way his kisses are a little unfocused because I’m making him feel so good that he can’t catch his breath. I love the way he makes my whole body lock up right before I come, but he keeps going, keeps pushing me until I’ve taken every ounce of pleasure from him that I can and my bones are like jelly. He follows soon after, and when we’re both completely sapped of energy and lying in a breathless mess of limbs and bodies, Nate rolls over onto his back, pulling me on top of him. I lie draped across his chest, my head coming to rest in the crook of his neck. I pull myself onto him until every single inch of our skin that can touch is touching.

  I want to melt into him, want to fill all the empty spaces inside of him. He kisses my forehead as I draw tiny hearts across his chest with my fingertip. His breathing slows and evens out, but he wraps his arms around me, snuggling me against him, wanting me closer even in his sleep.

  I close my eyes and smile. Unlike our first night together in Dallas, this time there isn’t a single part of me that wants to run. Worse than that, I want to stay.

  Wanting to stay is the scariest feeling of all.

  ONCE AGAIN, daylight seems to come much too quickly when I’m lying in Nate’s arms, but this time I’m not running from it. I’m snuggled against his chest, my head resting in the crook of his neck. His fingers run through my hair, gently pulling in a way that would put me back to sleep if I wasn’t so desperate to remember every second of this morning. Our legs are tangled together beneath the sheets, and everything about it feels so natural that I can’t imagine there was a time when I ever felt comfortable anywhere else. But I only let myself dwell on that thought for a second, because it tends to lead me down roads that make me think too much.

  “What’s your favorite breakfast food?” Nate asks, twirling the ends of my hair around his finger.

  “It’s a tie,” I tell him, enjoying the beat of his heart beneath my hand, where it’s splayed across his chest.

  “Between what?”

  “Between my desire for delicious food and my desire to live past forty.”

  “So what are they?” He presses a kiss against my forehead, his stubble deliciously rough against my skin.

  “Well, first there’s bacon, I mean…obviously.”

  “Mmmm, bacon.”

  I like the way Nate’s voice sounds with my ear pressed against his chest.

  “Bacon for breakfast, bacon for lunch, bacon for dinner. Bacon for snack time,” I say. “Bacon, bacon, bacon.”

  “So what’s the other favorite?” he asks, quietly laughing.

  “Raisin Bran. I love it, I can’t help myself,” I say, reaching over to twine my fingers with his. Everything about him is so warm, it’s impossible for me to not touch him, not want to be near to him. “It’s good for a healthy heart.”

  “Fiber is important,” he agrees, bringing my fingers up to his lips. He presses a kiss there, and I look up at him just in time to catch his smile.

  “Regularity and all that. Plus, raisins are pretty awesome.”

  Nate laughs. “I can tell this conversation is taking a Wright family turn,” he says, and I think back to the conversations I’ve witnessed with his family that inevitably go somewhere gross.

  “Ask me something else then.”

  “Is anything off limits?”

  I can feel the change in his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest. Maybe that should be a warning to me to say that yes, there are some things off limits, but I feel like an open book to him. I don’t know why exactly, but I don’t feel compelled to hide anything right now.

  “Nope, nothing,” I reply.

  He hesitates for a few seconds, and I feel my pulse quicken.

  “Tell me about your family,” he says quietly. “You know all about mine, but I don’t know anything about yours.”

  “To be fair, I just kind of stumbled into your family,” I reply, trying to buy myself some time.

  “My mom told me that she wants to take you with her on a trip to New York. That’s a little more than a stumble.”

  “I think she felt bad because I was standing there when she asked Gabby to go.” I hope he can’t hear the undercurrent of disappointment in my voice.

  “Nah,” he says, skimming his fingertips along my spine. The simple action makes all of my nerves stand on end, makes it difficult for me to concentrate. “She’s not swayed by guilt. If she asked you to go, it’s because she wants you there. And you’re avoiding my question.” He plants another kiss on the top of my head. “You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.”

  Strangely enough, the fact that he gives me an out makes me want to give him an answer. “What do you want to know?” I ask, looking up and meeting his gaze.

  “Everything.”

  That would be his answer. “My mother was born Ella Mae Sampson in Plano, Texas during a heatwave in the summer of nineteen sixty-five.”

  Nate laughs. “Smartass.”

  I take a minute to gather my thoughts before I start talking again. “My mom, she’s short like I am, and we look kind of alike. She’s got this pretty blonde hair that’s kind of wavy, and she always wears it pulled back, away from her face. She’s crazy smart, and she worked really hard to put herself through college after my dad left us. She’s a vice president at a marketing firm. Actually, she was going to come this weekend, but she had to go on a trip for work at the last minute.” Even though I’ve only been gone for a few days, talking about my mother makes me miss her so much that it hurts.

  “She sounds amazing.”

  “She is. She’s one of the most dynamic people I’ve ever met. I honestly don’t know what my life would be like if I didn’t have her.”

  “Your dad, he left?”

  I nod. “He did. He hung around a while after the divorce. He came to see me every other weekend for about a year. Then one day I waited for him to pick me up, but he never came. I haven’t seen him since.”

  I can feel the hitch in Nate’s breathing, and his arms tighten around me. “How old were you when this happened?”

  “Eleven. It was difficult for me to accept at the time,” I admit. I’ve never told anyone this, not even Ethan. “I didn’t want to believe that he could just pick
up and leave me like that. So I used to pretend that he realized he made a mistake and came back, and that he would watch me from afar. Like, I pretended that he was in the crowds at the mall, in the throng of parents that sat in the bleachers during my softball games. It was really pathetic.”

  “It’s not pathetic,” Nate says, his voice kind of broken. “But I’ll never understand how anyone could abandon their child like that.”

  “I think it’s easy for some people.” I trace a tiny heart on his chest with my fingertip to distract myself.

  “How could it be?”

  “I don’t know,” I tell him. “But the scary thing is that sometimes you don’t know who those people are until it’s too late.”

  “Callie,” he whispers, so quietly that I almost can’t hear it.

  “He tried to get in touch with me a couple of years ago,” I admit. This is yet another thing that I haven’t told anyone, not even my own mother.

  “What’d you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything.” There’s an unexpected wave of shame that hits me when I admit it; it comes from nowhere, nearly taking my breath away. “I just never called him back.”

  “Not even to tell him how much he hurt you?”

  I let out a small laugh. “Why would I want him to know that?”

  Nate shifts onto his side and slides his hand down until his arm is wrapped around my waist. Even though our bodies aren’t in contact the way they were before, this position seems much more intimate. I can’t hide from him here; his eyes are searching mine.

  “I think it’s good to let people know when they’ve hurt you,” he says, and there isn’t a hint of judgment in his tone. “How else do they learn?”

  “Why is it my responsibility to get him to be a better person?” I try not to sound as hateful as I feel.