Stolen Wishes by Lexi Ryan Read Free Book Online Page B

me, I don’t know any couples who aren’t
sexually active. But we have more than they do. We have a
connection that I’ve craved since my parents died.
    When Cally’s around, I never feel alone.
     
    ***
    Cally
     
    Over the clothes and above the waist. That
was my line in the sand at the beginning of our relationship.
Lately, it’s a line I want to kick myself for drawing.
    When we first started dating, I kept waiting
for the other shoe to drop. It’s not that I’m a pessimist or
something. It’s just that William is so much more than I ever would
have imagined for myself. He’s not just the sexy football player
everyone loves. He’s smart and kind and thoughtful. And when I told
him I wouldn’t have sex with him, he took me at my word and has
never pushed the physical side of our relationship. We make out,
and when things start to get too heated, when I’m ready for him to
ask for more, he slows us down and pulls me back.
    Over the clothes and above the waist. My
rules, followed to a T.
    Stupid rules.
    I complained to Lizzy and Hanna about my
predicament, and Lizzy laughed at me. “So, strip. You show him some
bare skin, and I’m sure he’ll get the idea.”
    I was going to wait for our one-year dating
anniversary. But lying here in his bed, no one else in the house,
my body has other ideas. The way he’s looking at me right now gives
me the courage I need. I sit up, and before I can talk myself out
of it, I pull my shirt off over my head.
    His breath draws in with a hiss and his gaze
sweeps across bare stomach, my breasts swelling above the cups of
my bra. “You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” he says,
but his eyes give him away. He needs this as much as I do. “Cally,
I—”
    I unclasp my bra, and he stops talking, his
chest rising and falling as his eyes rake over me again and
again.
    “Jesus. You’re beautiful.” He wraps his hand
around my side and pulls me close, lowering his mouth to mine.
    His fingers are gentle. He sweeps them over
my bare skin, cups a breast in his palm. I gasp at the brush of his
callused hand. He’s touched me here before, and I always liked it,
but this is different. There’s no comparison, and this simple
contact makes me want more. Skin to skin, everywhere.
    “So damn beautiful.” He drops his mouth to
my neck. Pleasure jackknifes through me when he rolls my nipple
between his fingers and scrapes his teeth over my collarbone. “Let
me kiss these. Let me make you feel good.”
    I’m almost tense, coiled tight and needy,
waiting for his mouth on my breasts. I want to feel his tongue
against the sensitive flesh of my nipple. He kisses the sensitive
crook of my neck and teases me with his thumbs. What will it feel
like to have his mouth there? What if I don’t like it?
    “Relax, baby.” He lowers me to the bed and
runs his hand across my abdomen. His fingers dip into the hollow of
my navel then up between my breasts. He follows with his mouth, hot
and wet against my stomach, his tongue skimming under the band of
my jeans and sending wild flutters through my belly before he
kisses his way back up.
    By the time he brings his mouth to my
breast, pleasure twists inside me, greedy and impatient and more
intense than anything I’ve ever felt before.
    His tongue circles my nipples, one then the
other. He closes his mouth over the taut peak and sucks, his other
hand pinching the opposite breast.
    The spiral of desire pulses harder, more
insistent, and I squeeze my thighs together tight as he teases and
sucks. I cling to that sensation—the tight, twisting ache. I tug at
his hair because I need more, and I’m so close to something but I’m
not sure what it is. Suddenly, he sucks again, and that aches
twists impossibly tight before shattering and rocking through me in
a violent spasm of pleasure.
    I cry out, and he sucks harder until the
spasm recoils and releases again, and I’m arching into his touch,
holding on to his hair and the back of his