This concerned me because it wasn’t like Callie. She was too responsible, and it fired dread up within me. Perhaps I’d already run her off for good.
I quickly called Bridger, who told me that he’d seen Callie there earlier but that she looked like she was getting ready to leave. Asshole couldn’t have told me that when he was shooing me out the door an hour ago?
Now I’m making the forty-five minute drive back to Jackson, hoping she’s at her parents’ house.
I use the long drive to sift through my thoughts and try to organize them. I reflect on what Bridger told me today, and I focus on his confidence that Callie is good for me. That I wouldn’t destroy her. His money was on the girl.
This time.
I’m still not sure what I hope to accomplish by going to her house. She’s a woman, so I’m sure it will involve talking. I guess we have stuff to talk about, but personally, I hope it involves fucking.
Lots and lots and lots of fucking. While I’m recharging, we can talk.
And that is the dilemma. While I’m confident I can master and captivate her body, I’m not quite sure what to do with her heart. She has a big one. As big as the state of Wyoming, and it’s vulnerable. I’ve hurt it before, I know, and it’s something that’s always weighed on me from time to time.
But mostly I’m worried that I’m not truly cut out for a relationship. I don’t know why I think that, but I do. It’s possible because I’ve never had one, I’m afraid of the unknown. What terrifies me even more is that I love my lifestyle so much—an incredible nonstop orgy since college—that I won’t want anything different.
That Callie would not be enough to satisfy my appetites for the long term.
It shames me to feel this way, and yet I can’t help it. It’s the only thing I know. It’s my comfort.
It’s true that I followed Bridger into the lifestyle. Early on in our college years, he found solace in the depravity of meaningless sex and the thrill of pushing the kinkiest of boundaries. I just liked the meaningless sex, but Bridger truly needed it. It’s true… he’s happiest in his loneliness, and I’ve stood there right with him the entire way. Maybe that’s what makes me happy too?
But maybe something else will make me happier.
A sudden image bursts into my head, filled with bright, dazzling color. Callie and me… with children… walking along the Snake River with fishing poles in our hand.
I shake my head to dispel it, but a lingering warmth remains in my blood.
Fucking weird.
When I pull into Callie’s driveway, I see her truck sitting outside of the garage and a dark green sedan beside it. It could be any number of people stopping by to visit, so I don’t give it a second thought. As soon as I turn off the ignition, the front door opens and Callie steps out onto the front porch with a man.
Instantly, blistering rage rises within me at the thought of her being with someone else.
Callie… another man… walking out of her house.
But then I recognize the dude. Perfectly styled brown hair, sleek dress pants, and a crisp white dress shirt. Her dull fiancé, Will, who apparently has a kinky side under all that starch.
My rage is instantly replaced by fear and jealousy. He’s clearly back here to make amends and get Callie back. This only two days after I fucked her and left her once again, without a fucking peep out of me since. She’s a prime target right now, feeling all used and discarded.
I push the door of my truck open and hop out, walking up toward the porch. Neither of them see me as they stand close together talking.
As soon as my boot hits the bottom porch step, both of them turn to look at me. I spare a brief glance at Callie, whose eyes flare wide with surprise to see me there. Will doesn’t recognize me, and why should he? We met briefly at a Christmas party last year, and he was three sheets to the wind at the time. He gives me an uncertain smile, and I stalk right up to him.
When I’m two feet away, he must take stock of the murderous look on my face and he starts backing up. I keep pounding toward him, backing him all the way up into door. I don’t touch him, my hands hanging loosely by my sides, but then again, I don’t need to. The fact I tower over him by a good five inches and have a solid forty pounds on him, coupled with the menace I’m projecting, has him thoroughly cowed.
“Woolf,” Callie barks at me, but I ignore her.
I lean forward and get in his face. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Will cuts a nervous glance at Callie, his eyes silently begging her to save him.
Fucking pussy. How in the world she ever could have been attracted to this pecker is beyond me?
“Woolf,” Callie says in exasperation as she grabs ahold of my arm and attempts to pull me away. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Will actually gasps when Callie drops the “F” bomb, and my opinion of him sinks even lower.
“Callie,” Will says in disapproval as he attempts to straighten his body.
Only because I’d get no satisfaction out of pounding this twit into the ground, and also because I’m finding it wholly unsatisfying that he’s so scared of me, I back up a step.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Callie says as she lets me go and reaches around me to take Will by the arm. She pulls him away from me, and he looks immensely grateful. “Will… just go get a hotel room and we’ll meet up for breakfast tomorrow like we planned.”
He makes an attempt to be a man. Looks at me, and then back at Callie. “Um… do you need me to stay?”
She rolls her eyes at Will, shoots me a disgusted glare, and then looks back to him. “No, I’m fine. This is Woolf Jennings. You met him last year at Dad’s Christmas party. Normally, he’s not this much of a jackass.”
“That’s right,” I say pleasantly enough. “I’m normally a pretty nice dude except when someone fucks around on one of my friends.”
“Jesus, Callie,” Will snarls at her with a pained look. “Did you have to tell other people?”
I take another menacing step toward Will and Callie steps in between us, placing a soft hand on my chest to halt my progress. With her other hand, she pinches the bridge of her nose and rubs at what I’m thinking is a monster headache.
Created by Will, no doubt.
In a tired voice, Callie says, “Will… just go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Will gives a curt nod of his head and walks down the porch steps. When he clears the last one, her hand falls away from my chest and she watches him get in his car. When he pulls out of the driveway, she gives me a short glare before turning and walking into her house without a word to me.
She even attempts to shut the door on me, but I stick a quick leg out and manage to get my boot in between the door and the jamb before it closes. She looks over her shoulder at me in surprise and then turns away, walking into the kitchen.
“Go away, Woolf. I’ll see you at work on Monday,” she says in a tired voice.
I don’t respond but follow her right into the kitchen. “Are your parents here?”
“No,” she says in surprise as she turns to look at me. “Why would that—?”
That’s as far as she gets before I’m on her, taking her face in between my roughened palms and kissing the ever-loving fuck out of her. I had planned to talk when I got here, but apparently, I’ve got a new game plan that I’m making up as I go along. The terrible warring sensations of rage, jealousy, guilt, and desire overwhelming me, and because I suck at talking and excel at fucking, I decide to try that angle first.
Callie gasps the minute our lips touch, and then a silky moan floats up her throat and settles against my tongue. It tastes better than anything I’ve ever had in my mouth. One hand behind her head, another pressed into her lower back, and I pull her in so I can feel every single beautiful inch of her body flush against me.
I take a few steps, walking her backward into the stainless steel refrigerator, and when she’s good and truly trapped, I pull away from her slightly, drawing my one hand from the back of her head to grip her jaw. Her eyes are filled with lust and wariness, which is a hauntingly beautiful look. It makes my cock even harder.