Meeting Mr. Wright (17 page)

Right now, the only thing I want in this world is to kiss him. So that’s exactly what I do.

“W
HAT IS
this?” Nate asks, lifting my purse into his lap, examining it like it’s some kind of science experiment. He’s perched on the edge of my bed, waiting impatiently for me to finish getting ready so that we can head down to the rehearsal dinner. I keep telling him to go ahead without me, but he refuses. Even though he’s being kind of a pain in my ass right now, I can’t deny that I like having him nearby.

“That’s my purse,” I say, laughing at the confusion on his face.

“It’s bigger than you are, Callie.”

It’s a black leather hobo bag which is a little too big, yes, and admittedly it does have a lot of…well, crap in it.

“It is not,” I tell him.

He opens the clasp and peers inside. “Hello…hello…hello,” he says, each word getting quieter as he imitates an echo.

“You can be a smartass or you can be nosy. You can’t be both at the same time.” I dab some perfume behind my ears and on my wrists before I lean over the dresser to get a good look in the mirror so I can apply my lip gloss.

“How do you find anything in here?”

I shrug. “Sometimes I can’t. I’ve been known to throw things in there and find them months later. I’m a bit of a slob,” I say as I spread a glossy pink across my lips. “It’s one of my flaws.”

Nate nods as he snaps the bag shut, seemingly filing that information away for later. Then he leans back on the bed, his hands splayed out on either side of him, holding him up.

“You should go down, I’m going to be a few more minutes.”

He’s sitting behind me; I can only see him through the reflection in the mirror, but I watch the sly grin that spreads across his lips, and I recognize that look in his eyes. It’s almost predatory; it sends a shiver up my spine. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Why would I leave when I’ve got an excellent view right where I am?” I feel Nate’s fingertips trailing up the back of my leg, underneath the hem of my skirt. It’s a tingling, light feeling that spreads throughout my body. I can’t really put a name to it, but I feel it every time he touches me, every time he looks at me, and I know he hears my breath catch. When he does, he presses his hands to the sides of my legs, turning me until I’m facing him. He stands, sliding his hands up, up, up until they grip my waist, and he lifts me up onto the dresser.

“Nate,” I whisper, just to hear his name.

He starts at my neck, peppering kisses across my skin before he drags his lips down along the neckline of my dress where he plants his lips again and again. His hands are still gripping my waist and he pulls me forward to the end of the dresser, until he’s settled between my legs. His stubble is rough against my skin, and I know it’ll leave red splotches everywhere, but I don’t care,
I don’t care
as long as he keeps his mouth and his hands on my body. He doesn’t remove my dress, doesn’t so much as slip his hand beneath the fabric. He just ghosts his hand down the valley between my breasts, and it’s like every single inch of me is on fire.

Then he kneels down, bringing my right leg to rest against the dresser and my left to rest over his shoulder. He drags his teeth along the sensitive skin on the inside of my thigh, nipping and kissing his way further up.

“We’re going to be late,” I whisper, and when he opens his eyes, they’re dark and intense, clouded by challenge. I skim my nails along the sides of his head and down the line of his jaw, scratching the stubble there. It’s prickly against my fingers, and Nate sighs as my hands fall away.

“We’ll be late then,” he says, his voice all gravely and low.

“But it’s your brother’s rehearsal dinner.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Callie, do
not
talk about my brother right now.”

I run my fingers through his hair again, and when he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, I can tell I’ve made up for my mistake.

“Still,” I whisper, cupping his cheek. “Late.”

“I bet I don’t even need five minutes.” Nate gives me this cocky little grin, and I decide to challenge him, even though I know he’s probably right.

“That’s not something to brag about.”

“I beg to differ,” he says, sliding his finger along the edge of my panties, making me squirm. “In this situation, it says nothing about my stamina and everything about how much I turn you on.”

I know it won’t take five minutes, but I like the determination in his eyes as he bunches my skirt up around my waist. He pushes my panties to the side and I feel his breath on me, right before he takes one long, decisive lick. I let out a sigh and rest my head against the mirror, running my hand through his hair as my breathing speeds up.

“
Oh
. Nate,” I whisper, and I can feel his smile as his mouth moves against me, sucking and dragging and licking. His other hand creeps up my thigh, and I lace my fingers with his, just wanting to be connected to him in some other way. The pad of his thumb moves in slow circles along the back of my hand, mimicking the torturous movement of his tongue. I grip his hand tighter as I feel that rising tide of pleasure welling up inside of me, and I press on the back of his head so that his mouth is just where I want it, where I
need
it to be. Just when I’m ready to fall apart, there’s a knock on my door.

“Callie,” Shelby says, practically yelling. “Dinner’s starting, are you going to come?”

“Yes,” I breathe, not talking to her at all. Because yes…
yes.

Nate laughs with a gentle hum that nearly undoes me.

“Callie?”

“I’ll be there in a few,” I yell, hoping she doesn’t catch the wavering in my voice.

“You’re going to be late.”

“I said I’m coming!” I yell, and I could laugh at the absurdity of it all, because I
am
coming, I am, I am, and I feel the sparks from it all throughout my body. My breaths are ragged, and Nate’s mouth is still on me, pushing me along as I ride out this wave. Our fingers are still entwined, my hand rubbing lazy circles on the back of his head. It’s not long before he presses tender kisses along the inside of my thighs, and he reaches up and lowers my dress.

I want to kiss that smug smile off his face, so I pull him close and I smile too as our lips meet slowly and softly. He’s still grinning when he pulls away, and I swipe the pad of my thumb along his bottom lip to wipe off the pink gloss that’s smeared there.

“What’s with the face?” I ask.

He shrugs as he leans in close, planting his hands on either side of my hips. I nuzzle against his neck and breathe deep as his lips brush the shell of my ear.

“Two minutes and sixteen seconds,” he whispers.

A
FTER DINNER
we’re all gathered around the patio, spread out in different groups, talking and laughing. I find myself orbiting Nate without really meaning to; I just feel this intense desire to be close to him, and for once I’m not over thinking it.

“So, no to the cliff diving,” he says, laughing through a smile as he brings his beer bottle to his lips. “I kind of figured you’d say that after your tire swing-slash-eel experience. You either love the feeling of falling or you hate it.”

I lean against the short brick wall that lines the patio, splaying my hands out on either side of me as Nate steps forward, blocking my view of the crowd. It’s like he wants me all to himself, and tonight, I’m all too happy to let him have me.

“It’s not the falling that I have the issue with,” I tell him, tilting my head back until our eyes meet. “I love that hollow, tingling feeling as my stomach drops. At that point you’ve already given up the control, and you can enjoy it. It’s the standing on the edge of the solid, safe earth and deciding to jump that drives me crazy.”

Nate looks at me for a long while, a sad smile pulling at his lips. His hand cups my cheek and I snuggle against it before he runs his fingers through my hair, cradling the back of my neck as he touches his forehead with mine.

“Not everything needs to be planned out, Callie. Fly by the seat of your pants for once,” he says softly, and I know he’s not talking about cliff diving. Maybe we never were. Our lips connect for just a few seconds, and even though it’s a sweet kiss—innocent, even—it puts every nerve in my body on overdrive.

I turn to my right and see Gabby. She’s standing with Ben, Marco and Emily, but her eyes are on Nate and me. When she excuses herself from their conversation, I touch Nate’s forearm and nod in her direction to let him know that I’m going to talk to her. We meet in the middle of the room, and she quickly takes my hand and leads me over to the corner, near the hammock. She gives me a knowing smirk, and my stomach sinks because I know what I’m in for.

“He’s got it so bad,” she says in a singsongy way, like we’re on the playground back in grade school. “And he’s not the only one.”

I glare at her, partly because she interrupted us and partly because she’s right. “You promised no matchmaking, Gabby.”

“I didn’t!”

“You did too, you promised that morning in the truck,” I remind her.

She smiles, and there’s something gentle about it that makes me relax. “I meant that I didn’t do any matchmaking. This is…it’s all you two. Everyone can see it.”

“See what?” I ask, playing innocent.

“The way he looks at you, Callie. The way you look at him. If you think this is just some fling-”

“It is a fling,” I say, interrupting her. “And I’m enjoying it while it lasts. Don’t ruin the two days I have left by trying to make this into more than it is.”

“Callie,” she sighs. “Don’t be stupid. What do you think is going to happen when this is over?”

“What I
know
will happen is that you and Ben will go on your honeymoon. I’ll go back to Dallas and Nate will go back to Boulder, and I’ll look back on this fondly.”

“QUIET EVERYBODY!!!” Madeline yells. Nate’s holding her, and she seems embarrassed by the sudden attention as the room quiets, so she tucks her head into his neck to shield her face. He walks up the few steps that lead into the guest house so that everyone can see him, and his eyes are drawn to mine in the crowd. He winks at me, and I know he’s doing whatever he’s about to do in order to break up this conversation because he can see how uncomfortable I am. I could (and would) kiss him for it if it wouldn’t send Gabby into a frenzy.

Nate clears his throat. “Mad here has something she’d like to say to her Uncle Ben and new Aunt Gabby,” he says with a smile, gently nudging Madeline with his chin.

Gabby, never one to abandon an unfinished conversation turns to me before motioning in Nate’s direction, like she wants to remind me of what I have right there in front of me. “You’re really going to make yourself miserable to prove a point?”

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” I tell her, and it’s the truth. She thinks I’m going to be miserable if I don’t give myself a shot to be with Nate, but misery I can deal with. It’s the inevitable broken heart that kills.

I
T’S GETTING
late, and all the guests are beginning to say their goodnights and go back to their rooms to prepare for the big day ahead of us tomorrow. At the same time tomorrow I’ll be standing here with all the same people, wearing a beautiful dress, and Gabby will have tied herself to Ben for the rest of her life. The remarkable thing—to me, at least—is that she isn’t even the slightest bit nervous about it. Sure, she’s worried about the ceremony, but the commitment part of the equation doesn’t even make her break a sweat.

I’m self-aware enough to admit that I’m jealous of her in that regard. Not that I
want
to get married, but I always wanted it to be an option. Now it seems as unattainable to me as winning a lottery jackpot. I think back to what Nate told me earlier this morning about telling the people who have hurt me what they’ve done. Maybe there’s some benefit to doing that beyond helping those people to not make the same mistakes again. Maybe the closure would help me move on. To what, exactly, I don’t know…but maybe that’s not important right now.

Across the yard, Ethan’s sitting on a bench by himself. His elbows are resting on his knees, and he’s got the neck of a beer bottle clasped between his thumb and index finger, gently swinging it back and forth. It occurs to me that while I’m not ready to talk to my father about how I felt when he left my mother and me, I am ready to talk to Ethan about our breakup. Maybe it will help him as much as it would help me, and as much as I shouldn’t want to help him, I do. Once upon a time he was my friend, and sometimes I do miss that, even if the sting of betrayal does taint those memories.