Wish I May by Lexi Ryan Read Free Book Online

decisions I wish she handled differently, I’m proud of her for leaving that man.
    A black BMW pulls up in the spot before me, and William steps out, wearing dark dress pants and a grey button-up Oxford. The sight of him flips a switch in my body and I’m instantly buzzing with awareness.
    “Hey, beautiful,” he says softly, and with one slide of his eyes over me, all my concerns about this dress fizzle away.

T HE LITTLE tapas restaurant north of Indianapolis is the perfect setting for a secret date with this man who makes me forget myself. There’s candlelight and soft music, and we’re sitting in the corner at a booth that puts us at a little round table sharing the same curved seat.
    We’re eating brie and fresh fruit, seared ahi tuna, and miniature crab cakes, and already coming to the bottom of our first bottle of wine.
    “So, what are you doing these days?” His voice has gone deeper and husky, and for a minute I’m so tied up in the sensual pull of the sound of his words that I don’t actually register what they mean. 
    I blink when I realize he’s staring at me expectantly. “Oh, I…I’m a massage therapist?” I hate that the answer makes me uncomfortable. In most contexts, I’m proud of what I do, but William knew my mother. I resist the urge to get defensive and explain that she may have taught me to love her trade, but I don’t get big tips she did for the reasons she did. Not that I have any room to judge her anyway. I have my own secrets.
    “Is that a question?”
    I smile and shrug. “I don’t know. I like what I do, but there are always people who assume the worst.” People in New Hope. People who have already made up their minds about me and my family. “What about you? Do you still like photography?”
    “I do. I teach it over at Sinclair.”
    “You’re a college professor? Seriously?”
    He grins. “I landed a fellowship after I finished my MFA. I like teaching, but I’d rather actually be a photographer than teach other people how to be.”
    “You were always so talented,” I say softly. “I’m glad you didn’t leave that behind.”
    “What about you? Did you go to college?”
    “I got my massage certification at a community college and I’ve taken a few classes since, but I haven’t managed to finish any kind of degree.” I won’t any time soon, either. I need to work as much as possible and send money to Dad to help with the girls.
    Reaching across the table, William catches my fingers under his. “Why did you call, Cally? What made you change your mind?”
    Why am I here? Because I want him? Because I’m trying to forget Brandon? Because I’m lonely as hell and needed an adult to talk to?
    “I guess that’s as much a mystery as why you would want to be here with me. After… Should we just acknowledge the elephant at the table and talk about how I stood you up for your own prom?” I let out a breath, relieved to finally say the words to his face. “I’m sorry. I’ve always been sorry. I hope you know that.”
    He drops his gaze to my mouth. “Come here.”
    Biting my lip, I slide around the booth so I’m next to him. The lights are so low, I can barely make out his expression, but I don’t need to in order to feel the heat between us. Is it in my head? Can he feel it too? Whatever it is—hormones, memories, the knowledge that this is temporary and I’m leaving soon—the pull between us is magnetic, and I let my bare thigh press against the soft fabric of his pants. 
    “That’s better,” he whispers, his hot eyes on me.
    “I think so, too.”
    He lowers his head and glides his lips over my neck in a movement so sweet, so simple, my breath leaves me in a rush. “I’m supposed to be pissed at you,” he whispers. “You broke my heart.”
    “Then why aren’t you?”
    “When I saw you again, there was no room for my anger. I want you too much.”
    Under the table, his hand settles against the inside of my knee, making little circles that send