Текст книги "Wicked Fall"

Автор книги: Sawyer Bennett

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Fuck. How in the fuck did I—?

“Are you on the Pill?” I ask her quickly as I stuff her soaked panties in my back pocket.

“Yes, but—” she says.

“Then you don’t have anything to worry about,” I tell her with relief. “I swear I’m clean. I never, and I mean never, Callie, have gone without a condom. That was the first time ever.”

She winces and chews on her lip for a second before saying, “I appreciate that, but um… I don’t know if I’m clean. Will was the only man I was ever with, but he was cheating on me.”

“Christ,” I mutter as I swipe my hand through my hair. I just gave into overwhelming lust, stuck my dick in unknown territory, and who knows what that fucker could have passed on to his unsuspecting fiancée. It never crossed my mind to distrust Callie, and there’s no harm in that. This is Callie. Sweet Callie I’ve known all my life. But it also never crossed my mind to distrust the person she was with, and that’s totally out of character for me. I don’t give trust easily, and I’m usually very protective of myself. It’s just further proof that Callie drives me out of my mind, and that is not a good thing.

I reach down and take her hand, give it a short squeeze. “I’m sure it’s fine. And I’m sure he wore protection, but I want you to go to the doctor tomorrow and get tested.”

She nods at me as tears prick her eyes. “I’m sorry. I should have done that already, but I never thought this would happen, and I should have stopped you but I swear, Woolf… I wasn’t thinking straight.”

I pull her roughly to me and kiss her quiet. When I draw back, I murmur, “Stop. I’m sure it’s fine and give yourself a break. I’ve heard that I’m impossible to resist.”

She gives me a shy smile and blinks the tears quickly away from those beautiful eyes.

Jesus… what in the fuck am I getting myself into here? Tonight I’ve broken so many rules, I don’t even know who I am anymore.

I know one thing for sure though.

Even though my common sense is telling me to cut this shit off right now and break ties, I could no more stop with Callie Hayes than I could give up oxygen.

Chapter 10

Callie

I glance at the clock and when I realize it’s half past noon, my stomach gives a loud grumble, reminding me that it hasn’t been fed yet today. I make a command decision to go ahead and take the rest of the day off. This decision comes easy because I don’t have a damn thing to do, and I don’t like twiddling my thumbs. Woolf hasn’t seen fit to direct any work my way, and there’s no sense in me staying here any longer. There’s no telling when, or if, he’ll show up to the office.

I log off my computer and reach into my bottom desk drawer for my purse. Just as I start to stand from my chair, the office door opens. A jolt of adrenaline spikes through me as I think that it might be Woolf, but it immediately recedes, leaving my skin tingly when I see Bridger walking in. He’s dressed in the standard western wear, but he’s not wearing a hat. It gives me the opportunity to take in his dark brown hair that he wears a little long like Woolf and golden brown eyes that appear outgoing and friendly. He’s a very good-looking man, if you just take in a quick glance. Pretty face, hard, muscled body, and confident swagger. But when you look closer, he just radiates this weird vibe that’s equally compelling and dangerous. Just when I think I could be comfortable in his presence, I realize I’m not sure I ever will be.

He’s got a toothpick sticking out of his mouth that he lazily rolls with his tongue. He gives me a short smile, and I tell him, “Woolf’s not here.”

“Know where he is?”

“Nope,” I say succinctly as I stand straight from my chair. No fucking clue where he is. Haven’t seen him since night before last when he fucked me up against The Silo while apparently one of his employees watched, and then walked me to my car where he mumbled good-bye to me. When I got into work the next morning, feeling pleasurably sore from his huge dick, I was greeted with a handwritten note that said “Meetings in Cheyenne. Be back Friday.”

And that was it.

Haven’t heard a damn thing since.

No email directing me to do something here at the office.

No text to see how I’m doing.

No call to say, “Hey, Callie. I fucking loved what we did other night. Want to do it again?”

Just… nothing.

And I. Am. Pissed.

I am totally being blown off, and I’m actually really, really pissed.

He knows.

That fucker knows that I’ve crushed on him almost my entire life. I offered him my virginity. I let him finger me twice and then leave me. I let him fuck me in public while someone watched. He has got to know that I’ve got some feelings brewing up inside of me that might just need discussed.

He knows alright, and that’s why he’s cut out of here. So he doesn’t have to deal with little Callie Hayes’ tender sensibilities.

Asshole!

“You look like you want to castrate someone right now,” Bridger comments casually as he takes the toothpick from his mouth.

I school my features, try to hide my feelings, and shrug my shoulders. The last person I would talk to about my feelings regarding Woolf is his best friend. I’m not in the mood to listen to him defend his buddy.

“Well, it was nice seeing you,” I tell him as I step around my desk and head toward the front door. “If you want to hang around, be my guest. No telling if he’ll show up.”

“Actually, he’ll be here in about an hour. Texted me a bit ago,” Bridger says with a smirk.

I glare at him. “Then what was with the dumb act when you walked in?”

He shrugs, but his eyes are filled with mischief. “Just wanted to see if you knew where he was.”

I narrow my eyes at him and reach out toward the door. “You knew when you walked in here I didn’t know where he was, and I don’t appreciate you trying to rub my nose in it.”

“Whoa, wait a minute,” he says with raised eyebrows and holding his hands up defensively, the toothpick still gripped between a thumb and forefinger. “I was just trying to get a read on things so I could offer up my expert advice to you.”

My hand drops from the doorknob. He’s put the bait out there, and I’m thinking about taking it. “What are you? A relationship expert or something.”

Bridger snorts and looks at me like I’m the dumbest person on the face of the earth. “Fuck no. I don’t do relationships.”

And he actually shudders in what I think might be revulsion when he says the word “relationships”.

“Then why would I want your advice?” I ask caustically.

“Because I am a Woolf Jennings expert,” he says with a wink. “I know him better than anyone on this planet, and it’s your lucky day that I feel like sharing.”

Turning to face Bridger, I cross my arms over my chest. I look at him skeptically, but he has me hooked.

He knows it too, so there’s no sense in dancing around. I take the bait. “Okay, oh wise one. Lay it on me.”

Bridger walks over to the secretarial chair I just vacated, considers sitting in it but then reconsiders because there’s no way his frame would fit into that thing, so instead, he chooses to lean back against the wall.

“Let me make sure I have the entire story.” He pauses and gives me a confident wink before he says, “You crushed on Woolf your entire life. You wanted him to take your virginity. He refused but did give you your first orgasm. He also broke your heart, but you still retained a part of it for him. Now you’re back and Woolf doesn’t know what to do with you. You’re not the same girl he knew. You’re different. You want more in your life, and the type of “more” you want is exactly the type of “more” that Woolf can give you. The only problem is that now that he’s fucked you… felt that sweet pussy… he’s hooked dangerously on a woman he wants but doesn’t really think he deserves. You, on the flip side, felt that amazing cock inside of you and realized it was the best feeling in the world, but you’re also a woman with feelings and emotions. You want more from Woolf. You want his cock and his heart. And today… well, you’re just pissed he hasn’t called you and reassured you that when he fucked you the other night at The Silo with Cain watching, that was something a bit more intimate than just casual sex.”

He finally shuts up.

My head is spinning.

I blink hard at him.

“How in the fuck do you know all that?” I ask in amazement, not even mortified he knows intimate details like that and is throwing around ‘cock’ and ‘pussy’ like it’s nothing. “I mean… okay, clearly, Woolf tells you everything, which is a testament to your friendship. But how do you know me? I mean… how could you possibly know that was my first orgasm? It’s like you read my mind.”

Bridger gives a soft snort of amusement but his eyes are serious. “It’s just something I do. Read people, that is. As to that being your first orgasm, Woolf suspected it and now you just confirmed it for me. Now, do you want my advice?”

“Let me guess,” I say lightly. “You’re going to tell me to leave your buddy alone. He doesn’t need the crazy that comes with trying to form a relationship. Or wait… actually, you’ll tell me that Woolf doesn’t do relationships. He’s too closed off. It’s not his thing. He likes fucking around. He thinks monogamy is for fools.”

Bridger pushes off from the wall, straightening up his massive frame. In two long strides, he’s in front of me… staring down with an impassive face. I feel like I’ve angered him, and there’s a definite menacing vibe around him, yet his face is a blank slate.

I resist the urge to back away. My voice is raspy though when I say, “Isn’t that what you’re going to tell me? To stay away from Woolf?”

He stares at me for what seems like forever, but then he says, “No. That’s not what I was going to say.”

Bridger then puts the toothpick back in his mouth, turns toward the door and opens it up, steps out onto the wooden porch, and then shuts the door softly behind him. I’m frozen in place for just a moment, and then I’m scrambling out the door right behind him. I hastily lock up and then run down the steps, catching him before he opens the door to his Corvette.

“Wait,” I practically shriek at him. He turns to face me with a knowing smile on his face, and I have the grace to blush over my assumptions. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. Will you give me your advice?”

He considers my request, making me wait for it. He’s doing that to torture me, but he finally shuts the car door, takes the toothpick back out of his mouth and throws it to the ground, and then places his other hand on the hood of the car to rest. “My advice is simple. Stick with Woolf. He needs what you have more than you can ever imagine.”

“I don’t understand,” I say, even though what he told me was indeed simple. “What makes you say that about him?”

“Let’s just say that Woolf sort of got sucked into this lifestyle because of me. He followed me in and has had a ball fucking his way through a bevy of beautiful women. He’s never had a serious relationship in his life, and he’ll tell you that’s the way he likes it. But he’s wrong. He’s the type of man built for monogamy, but he’s gotten too sidetracked by me. He sees me and feels a bond toward me, and so he thinks this is the life for him. But it’s not. He may want those things that The Silo offers, but he doesn’t need it. Not like me. The sooner he realizes it and let’s it go, the happier he’ll be. And you, Miss Hayes, are just the woman to do that.”

Wow. Just wow.

Bridger keeps his gaze on me, giving me an opportunity to digest what he’s said. He wants to make sure I understand, and I do. I give him a nod of my head and a smile, and he gives me a tentative smile back as he opens the Corvette door. Just as he’s lowering himself in, I think of something else.

“Wait,” I call out, and he pauses. “Why do you need it?”

Bridger’s lips flatten out, and there is no trace of the smile left on his face. “That, Callie Hayes, is none of your business.”

He then drops down into the bucket seat of his car and shuts the door. I watch as he fires the engine and pulls away, leaving me with all kinds of confusion even though I clearly understood what he said.

The credits to Iron Man 2 start rolling, and I get up from the couch. Time to start Iron Man 3.

I decided when I got home this afternoon that I was going to consider Bridger’s advice. It’s an admitted fact on my part that I’ve carried a torch for Woolf Jennings for years and I have feelings invested. It’s also a fact that he desires me, and well duh… I’m hot for him too. That experience the other night at The Silo, from the moment I walked in until the moment Woolf was stuffing my semen-soaked panties in his back pocket, was the most exhilarating experience of my life. Woolf… inside of me… the most sensuous, erotic, naughty, and sinful thing ever. That one experience almost wiped the slate clean for me. It’s like no other sexual encounter has ever counted. It’s like I was a virgin and he made me new.

What I don’t know, though, is whether my heart can take the beating that Woolf would be sure to hand it if he’s really only wanting a sexual relationship. Or even worse yet, that the other night is all there will ever be. I would hope not. The mere fact that Bridger sought me out to tell me that told me something else.

It told me that Woolf must have some type of feelings for me or else Bridger wouldn’t be pushing this. That gives me the confidence to sit back and wait.

I slide the DVD out and put the next one in. Nothing makes me feel better than some super hero action and it will keep my mind occupied. I hit Play and then walk toward the kitchen to make some popcorn while the opening credits roll. My mom and dad are back in residence in Cheyenne so I have the entire house to myself. It’s not as grand as Woolf’s home, but at six-thousand square feet, it’s more than big enough to hold our family. My mom tried to talk me into coming with them, but I hastily declined. Part of it was because of Woolf, but the other part? Well, Jackson is my home. There’s no finer place in the world to be, and I never felt settled at the Governor’s Mansion. My goal, however, is to find a place of my own, but only after I find a more stable career than working as an assistant for a man that doesn’t bother to show up for work.

The doorbell rings just as I hit the kitchen and for a few seconds, I consider ignoring it. But then I think to myself… maybe, just maybe, it’s Woolf. He’s come to apologize. With flowers and to tell me that he misses me.

To tell me he wants me.

To tell me he needs me.

To beg me to make love to him.

I snicker to myself as my thoughts turn romantic and sweet, which is ludicrous. Woolf Jennings doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body and he’s about as sweet as a rattlesnake. Still, the prospect that maybe it is him has me walking toward the door, Iron Man and popcorn forgotten.

When I open my door, the heavy feeling of disappointment fills me so quickly, I almost buckle under the weight. The black-haired, blue-eyed devil I was angry at but was still hoping to see isn’t standing on the porch.

“Hello, Callie,” Will says softly with pleading eyes.

Soft, brown eyes I once thought were the answer to my broken heart, now begging me for something.

To forgive him?

To come back?

“What are you doing here?” I ask in surprise. Never in a million years would I think Will would have come here. He’s an incredibly busy and important man at his law firm. We had to plan vacations and trips at least a year in advance, and outside of the ten days he allotted himself every year for a vacation—on which I will point out he still worked—it practically needed a papal decree to get leave approved.

Will Tynnick simply didn’t drop everything and hop a plane to fly across the country.

“Can I come in?” he asks politely.

I automatically step back to give him entrance. While I didn’t think I was ready to have this conversation, the fact that he’s here and confronting me has sort of changed the game plan. Giving myself a silent pep talk, I shut the door behind him. I walk into the family room, and he follows me. After I pick up the remote control from the table and turn off the TV, I take a seat in one of the single armchairs done in thick blue leather.

Will looks around and murmurs, “I still can’t get over the amount of animals hanging in here.”

My eyes do a brief sweep of the room, taking in the various mounted heads. Typical western flare, the big, bad hunters showing off their skills. Elk and moose heads dot the walls with a large bearskin rug in front of the fireplace, all mementos of animals killed through the years by my mom and dad. There’s not one stuffed mount up there killed by me, because even though I’m a Wyoming girl to the core and a meat eater to boot, I just can’t harm an animal. I can’t even kill the trout I catch and have to turn my head from my father as he breaks their necks after he takes them off the hook. My father thinks it’s adorable, my mother just shakes her head, I think slightly disappointed I’ve apparently not inherited that caveman strand of DNA that makes our people bring home sustenance.

Will takes a seat on the matching blue, leather couch which is overstuffed and cushy. It’s my favorite place to lay and watch TV, which is something I should be doing right this very minute.

He’s nervous. His gaze fluttering all around, until he finally gets the nerve up to look at me. Will swallows hard and says, “I’m so sorry, Callie. And I’m embarrassed and humiliated. I don’t even know quite what to say to explain what you saw.”

“I think I understood what I saw,” I tell him, not unkindly, but to speed this up. I don’t need a play by play.

“I don’t think you did,” he says urgently. “That was only the second time I’d done that and I was just—”

“Did you wear protection?”

“Yes,” he says quickly. “Of course I did. I would never put you at risk like that.”

I’m not surprised by this answer. I had assumed as much and I did, in fact, go see my former OB/GYN yesterday to get tested. The office called me just this morning that the results were all negative, and I almost broke down and cried. I don’t know what I would have done if I had put Woolf at risk. Probably murdered Will, but that’s moot now.

Woolf and I were both so stupid the other night. Thinking with those anatomical parts below our waist and not with our heads.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

But oh, so damn good.

“Callie, I swear that will never happen again. I was doing it out of curiosity, and Judge Lane… she came on to me. You have to believe me, I didn’t initiate that. She came after me.”

“Will,” I say carefully… making sure he hears the sincerity in my voice. “I don’t think—”

“Please,” he wails and surges off the couch to drop to his knees before me. He takes my hands in his and squeezes them desperately. “I’ll do anything to get you back. I love you so fucking much and I made the biggest mistake of my life, but I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

“Will, I can’t—”

“Callie,” he almost barks at me hysterically. “I’ll do anything. I’ll even move here to Wyoming if you want. I know you hated Connecticut—”

“What?” I ask in astonishment.

“Yeah… I’ll move here. We can make it work.”

“Wait. You knew I hated it in Connecticut but weren’t willing to make me happy before, but you are now.”

“Well,” he says hesitantly, realizing just how moronic that sounds. “I mean… I’m sure I would have offered to do that before—”

I stand up from the couch, pulling my hands from his. “Will, I’m sorry. But I just can’t go back. I can’t unsee that and the trust is broken. I just don’t think I could ever let that go.”

Will rises up from the floor and steps up to me. His brown eyes are swimming in misery, and I feel a tiny spear of hurt punch into me. The first time, really, that I’ve felt the loss of what we had. While I may have had all kinds of doubts, clearly, there was some part of me that loved him. And I think I’m feeling the weight of that now.

“Can we please just talk about this?” he asks softly.

With a sigh, I nod my head. I’ve got years invested with this man. I love him even as I detest what he did. I owe it to him to at least listen to what he has to say. The Old Callie… the one who could easily slip back into a molded lifestyle, is making the decision to hear him out.

Or maybe that’s the New Callie who is going to hear him out only because she knows she has the strength to turn him down when it’s all said and done.