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She shakes her head, and a little part of me is disappointed, because I think I would very much like to keep Callie Thompson in my bed all day.
I’m so fucked.
38
Callie
Lou drops us at my apartment, but I don’t want to leave. Being with Jonah is magical, like a cocoon of wonderful things in a sea of insanity. An anchor in a world that moves too fast. He stares up at the window where Samson watches us with eager eyes. I guess Jonah feels the same way I do, though neither of us broaches the topic. He lingers outside my apartment, even though he could be whisked away in seconds.
“Are you going to invite me up?”
“No way.” I shake my head. Nerves jump in my stomach at the thought of Jonah being in my space, my dad’s space. One time was enough.
“Why not?” His lips press flat. He’s not used to being denied things.
“My dad. And I—” I swallow around the lump in my throat. “I’m not ready.” And a whole host of other reasons, including the fact that while Jonah might want me, he sure as hell doesn’t trust me.
His expression darkens, and for a second I think he’s going to argue with me. But then he says, “Fucking Eric.”
“Yeah.” I give him a sad smile. “Fucking Eric.”
“All right, Thompson. I’ll let you go, for now. But first—” He captures my hand and tugs me against his body, wrapping his massive overcoat around us so I’m cocooned against his cashmere sweater and his delicious warmth.
I’m helpless to resist him when he’s like this. Open and protective. His layers peeled back. So when he dips his head down, I raise mine and I let my eyes flutter shut in anticipation. He presses a light kiss to the corner of my mouth. “I see the appeal,” he murmurs.
“Hmm?” Pleasure is drugging me, along with the heat of his body, his scent.
Another kiss on the corner of my lips. “I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone before. Until you.” He captures my mouth. “And now, I can’t seem to stop.”
My chest cracks at his admission, and I press up on my tiptoes to kiss him back. His arms band around my back, and his mouth moves over my own. For someone who never kisses, he is divine. His tongue is hot and clever. He makes noises in the back of his throat like I’m destroying him. He finally pulls away, his eyes wild, his cheeks a little red.
“Fuck, Cal.” He presses his forehead to mine, inhaling a shaky breath. “See you on Monday.”
I step away and he lets me go. I watch him drive away, then sigh and let myself back into the dreary building. I trudge up the stairs to the second floor, where the worn mat and the shoe rack welcome me back. You love this apartment. Stop. Get a grip. But when I unlock the heavy door, for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel glad to be home.
“Callie?”
“Hi, Dad.”
“There you are.” He appears in his office door, his face creased slightly with worry. “Where were you last night?”
“Ah, with a friend. I texted you.” I sigh, and go to strip off my jacket, then remember Jonah’s sweatshirt is under my coat. “I’m not a little kid anymore.”
“I know you’re not.” His voice is gentle and it makes me want to rage. I’m sick of the non-confrontation and the never discussing things.
“Well, you still treat me like one.” I cross my arms over my chest, looking like the child I claim not to be.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You never listen to my suggestions. I have so many things I want to do with the paper, and you won’t take any of my advice. I could help us. I could expand. And every time I bring it up, you shut me down. Do you even want me involved?” My eyes are hot and scratchy when I finish, and I will myself not to cry.
He regards me uncertainly. This is the first time I’ve ever been so honest. “Of course I do.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “I’m set in my ways, Cal. I’m sorry. You know that. Give me some more time, and I’ll come around.”
All the fight goes out of me. “I know, Dad. I’m sorry.” My shoulders sag. “I can be patient.”
As I strip off my coat in the bedroom, I think to myself, for how much longer?
39
