Kiss the Sky (Calloway Sisters, #1)

by Krista Ritchie

I was Connor Cobalt. The kid who always did right. The kid who always knew when to shut up and when to speak. I bit my tongue until it bled.

Three. I was nineteen. At the University of Pennsylvania, an Ivy League. And I sprinted down the student center, slowing to a brisk walk as I reached the girls’ bathroom. I pushed open the door, and a brunette girl with four-inch heels and a conservative blue dress stood by the sink, scrubbing a stain with wet paper towels, her eyes bloodshot with anger and anxiety.

I LOVE THAT ROSE IS INCLUDED IN THE WAY HE DICTATES TIME IN HIS LIFE

Her excessive exaggerations always reminded me of a rumor I’d heard around Faust. That during a health class at Dalton Academy, her prep school, she took her baby doll and stabbed the stuffing with a pair of scissors. Another person said she scribbled over the baby’s forehead and handed it to the teacher. The note: I won’t care for an inanimate object unless the boys do it too. People thought she was nuts—in a genius “I will devour your soul” kind of way. I thought she was fucking fascinating.

But Rose Calloway was different. She was fashionable. But not a sorority girl. She was a genius on paper. But not a team player. She was quick to loathe others. But not against loving. She was a complicated equation that didn’t need to be solved.

“You’re different around certain people,” she told me. “I’ve known you long enough from academic conferences to see it. You act one way with them and another with me. How do I know who the real Connor Cobalt is?” You never will. “I’m as real with you as I can be.”

We had somehow drawn towards each other. I towered over her, taller than most men and built like an athlete. I never hunched. Never recoiled. I wore my height with pride. She raised her chin to combat me. I pushed her to be the best that she could be. “I know exactly who I am,” I said with every ounce of confidence I possessed. “What unsettles you, Rose, is that you have no idea what kind of guy that is.” I stepped closer and she stiffened. “If people stare at me and see my problems, then I’m useless to them. So I give them exactly what they want. I am whomever or whatever they need.” I held out my blazer again. “And you need a fucking jacket.” She reluctantly took the blazer but hesitated. “I can’t be you,” she said. “I can’t internalize all of my feelings. I don’t understand how you can do that.” “Practice.” Our eyes met for an extended moment. There was so much between us that I wasn’t ready to uncover right then. I wasn’t prepared for the deep conversations that she would force me to have. Rose Calloway couldn’t stand me because of what I was—a guy who wanted to reach the top. The irony was that she wanted the same thing. She just wasn’t willing to do what I was to get there. She slipped on my blazer that dwarfed her frame. “What part of you do you show me?” she asked. “The best part.”

But love? That was an illogical concept, something as fictional as the Bible, Katarina Cobalt would say. When I was a child, I thought love belonged in fantasy with witches and monsters. It couldn’t exist in real life, and if it did, it was just like religion—only there to make people feel good. Love. That was fake to me.

“Rose,” I began. And she turned to look at me. And her gaze was like the depths of hell. Ice cold. Bitter. Tumultuous and pained. I wanted to bear it all. But I couldn’t show her all the cards I held to do so. I couldn’t let her in. I’d lose the game first. And it had only just begun. “You’re going to do great.” And that was it. She was gone.

“Fine, she would have been a boring addition anyway.”

NOT THE POPPY SLANDER LMFAO

There is something seriously wrong with him. And maybe my boyfriend. And really, any guy who’d like to be with me. I’m not even sure I want to be with me.

i wish she didn't think that she was unlovable

I am the fucking shark, and he’s a lame human in my ocean. And my boyfriend, he’s the same species as me.

I LOVE THEM

“I can’t imagine your boyfriend knows what to do with you.” “Because you’ve never met him.” “I’ve spoken to him. He sounds malleable.” He taps his pen. “If I told him to drop on his knees and suck my cock, I think he would.” My nostrils flare. I am fuming. “You think that.” I stand. “And when he stabs you in the fucking front, I’ll be the one smiling by his side.” Scott grins at this. “Challenge accepted.” Stupid intellectual pricks. Funny thing is, I’m dating one.

I knew I should have lowered my standards—dated a guy who rides around on his skateboard with his shirt inside-out. I grimace. Just kidding. I’ll take my suit-and-tie boyfriend. I’ll take the high IQ and the rapid-fire banter.

I should be glad that my boyfriend has saved the day by grabbing my things, but the fact that I ruined it makes me feel unraveled, as though my hair is frizzy, my lipstick smudged, my dress crooked—oh, well it is stained, so there’s that. And my mouth flies open before I can shut it. “You’re good at that.” His brow arches, seeing exactly where I’m going. “Of sticking my key into a hole.” His hand drifts to the crook of my hip. “I said nothing about your keyhole,” I retort. “No, I believe you were about to comment on your keyhole and my key.” “If you’re trying to frazzle me with sexual idioms, it’s not going to work.” “I didn’t think it would, seeing as how you were the one about to mention keyholes in the first place.” It’s as though he can read my mind. We think alike on too many occasions.

“Last week you told me if you ever saw me with an erection, you’d slam my boner in a doorjamb.” Connor nods to Lo. “In Rose’s defense, no one but Lily really wants to see your erection.” “That’s not what you said last night,” he banters. Connor’s lips rise. “Shh, that’s between us, love.”

LMFAO

“When is the psychic coming?” Lily perks up, combing her fingers anxiously through her hair, and she shifts as if her body doesn’t fit her quite right. From behind her, Loren tangles his arms around her waist and rests his chin on her shoulder. She immediately relaxes into him. His presence is a kind of reassurance that brightens her whole being. If she didn’t have Loren, I’d imagine she’d be on street corners, sleeping with random guys to satisfy her sexual compulsions. I’m more grateful that he’s here, helping her, than I’ll ever let on.

“If Rose loses, she should give Connor a five-minute lap dance.” My chest constricts, and I glare so hard at Loren that my eyes feel like they’re being serrated. “You don’t have to do that,” Connor tells me. He studies the way I lock a breath in my lungs.

connor knows her so well

Hell, I want to walk away from me sometimes.

It’s how all men work with me. And I never, ever let them win. But Connor is getting close.

Connor doesn’t move his gaze off mine. “I can handle her, Lo.” Yes, he may be the only one. He edges close and shuts off the faucet. I turn it back on. “I’m not finished.” There’s a thin layer of sauce underneath my nails still. “We both know you won’t give me a lap dance. So let’s stick to the thousand dollar bet.” His voice is unreadable. If there’s disappointment, he won’t ever let me hear it. I feel defeated in some huge way. “I can do it,” I retort. “I’m not trying to use reverse psychology on you, Rose. I really don’t think you should.” He shuts the faucet off again, and when I go to turn it back on, he slips in front of me, blocking the sink, and he wraps a towel around my hands. “They’re clean,” he says. I glance down at my romper, which is still stained. “I need to change.” Loren cuts in, “So have we established whether or not we’ll be seeing a lap dance tonight?” “Only if I lose,” I say. Connor’s jaw muscles twitch, the single sign that I can read. He really doesn’t want me to do this, but I don’t like the way he’s staring at me. Like I’m a scared little bird. I’m not frightened. Yet. “And if you lose,” I say, “what do I get in return?” Connor gazes at my mouth just as I did him. He brushes his thumb over my bottom lip and says, “What do you want, darling?” My heart pounds. I want to be great in bed. I want to please him better than he pleases me. I want to beat him.

he just wants her to be comfortable

“Boo,” Lily says. Loren nods. “Boring. But the only one who matters says, “Deal.” Connor ignores my sister and her boyfriend. He finishes drying my hands.

I have the girl, but not entirely. If it were that easy—that boring—I wouldn’t still be here. Add Scott Van Wright into our lives, a threat on some serious level, and keeping Rose is going to be problematic. But I’m going to put up one hell of a fucking fight.

I dominate her and give her everything I know she’ll adore. That’s the thing about being fucking smart—I understand her better than she understands herself.

I affect her as much as she does me.

Waiting for her—that’s not the hard part. Knowing what’s best for her but watching her deny it out of stubbornness—that is.

“So you’ve learned politics, philosophy, French, business and fashion at Princeton, but clearly you were a little slow in your dormitory studies. Penn would have served you better.” She glares. “Why? Because your college was filled with juvenile horndogs?” I ease behind her, and she stares at me questioningly through the mirror. Approaching Rose Calloway is like nearing a sleeping tiger. Every single time there’s a chance she’ll bite me. “No,” I whisper, pulling the collar of her robe to expose more of her neck. “Because I was there.” I press my lips lightly to her nape. And her whole body trembles. Just as my hands fall to the slip of her robe, she spins towards me and places her hands on my chest. Normally I’d back up, but I stand my ground. Right here. Not moving to her demands. I raise my palms and then clasp my hands behind my back, showing that I won’t touch her anymore. But if she wants to curl her hair, she’s going to have to do it with me—naked—behind her. “Back up,” she says. “If I really thought you wanted me to, I would.”

OH

I want to make her feel as confident and strong inside the bedroom as she is outside. It’s a goal that Scott Van Wright won’t steal from me, even if he tries. “Take back the truth?” I frown. “That’d make me a liar. And I know how much you hate liars, hun.”

She cares. I do as well, but Rose will always be my number one priority.

“I knew being your girlfriend wouldn’t have many perks. I still owe you things.” “You have plenty of perks,” I tell her. “You just choose not to delight in them.”

But her eyes speak differently, and my smile fades. She’s really, truly scared. “You’re safe with me, you know that, Rose?” I ask her. “I won’t ever hurt you.” I’ve always treated her like she’s an extension of myself. The more hostile, torrid side—that is. It’s a reason I’ve become so possessive of her throughout the years, even when we weren’t together. “I know,” she says, relaxing her shoulders.

aw

“Je suis passionné de toi,” I say. I am passionate about you. Her chest falls, understanding me well.

AW

I don’t think she really knows what to do, but I adore her more for trying. I let her off the hook and quickly replace my hand with my lips, my tongue, trying to lose her with the moment. Her movements are more assured now, her hands drifting to my hair, tugging, clenching, kneading. Her spine curves again, her body meeting mine once more. That’s it, Rose. I have you. You’re safe with me.

“He promised we wouldn’t be filmed in the bathroom or the bedrooms,” she says with tight lips. “Promises from anyone other than me mean nothing,” I say.

“You can always tell him to fuck off,” I remind her. “You’ve said it to men many times before.” “And yet, you’re still here.” I smile. True.

But what Scott really wants is the most drama possible, the most chaos, and this is the type of setting that’ll grant him what he desires. And if Rose is a part of that package, he’s going to fucking lose this battle. I just don’t want it to be at the cost of Rose’s fashion line. If I ruin Calloway Couture, I’ll lose her too. Her company is why we’re swimming in a fish bowl after all. I’d do almost anything to help her achieve her dreams.

“I don’t care what you do,” she says, “as long as you’re here.” I try not to look shocked by her declaration. Our tight postures relax, and I draw her to my chest and rub the back of her neck. She melts into me, her normally stiff body finding a moment to slacken. I stare at her fiery eyes that never seem to soften, even if her body does. “But I thought you could do everything by yourself, darling.” “I can,” she says, raising her chin again. “But I like your help…sometimes.”

“Don’t be afraid of me,” I whisper lowly in her ear. “I may not always be on your side, but I have your best interest at heart.”

Rose stops pacing with my touch.

She inhales deeply and she stares at my lips again, silently asking me to come a little closer.

But just for snapping on a collar, Rose had cuts all along her arms for a week. I was about to sell Sadie after that, but Rose refused to let the cat leave. I appreciate her for trying to put up with my pet, but I don’t want to find her bleeding like that ever again.

omg

“I can’t cohabitate with rodents.” She pauses. “That’s a lie. I’ve lived with Loren for nine months, but I draw the line right here.”

LMFAO

I hate that he incenses her like this. That’s my fucking role.

“Your clothes are perfect, Rose. They’re not as modest as he believes. Women will buy them.” My words instantly calm her, and she relaxes against me.

“If you try to break up Lily and Loren, I will gut you from the inside out.”

SLAY

“We haven’t formally met,” I say, holding out my hand. “I’m Connor Cobalt. The guy whose girlfriend you want to fuck. And just so you understand, the odds don’t look good for you.” He shakes my hand, and I grip him so tight that he struggles to hide a wince. “You’re threatened by me,” he states, not breaking eye contact. “I’m twenty-eight, and you’re—” I hate ages. “Twenty-four years smarter than you.” I tilt my head. “And in ten years I’ll be thirty-four years smarter than you. See how this works?” Rose steps between us, hands outstretched like she’s protecting us from each other. But I just want to protect her from him.

This, interjecting herself in the middle of a fight, even tame, causes my dick to throb. I struggle not to pull her into my chest, away from Scott and his lingering gaze. She wouldn’t appreciate me claiming her. But if he’s going to try to take her from me—there’s only so long I can withhold from doing so. Anyway, I don’t think she’d appreciate another girl hitting on me this way. In fact, I’m almost certain she’d rip her to shreds and grab me.

“But I can’t be held accountable for your feelings, Rose. If you end up liking me, that’s completely out of my control.” Well, he’s still the douchebag I thought he was. Rose snorts and backs up into my chest. It’s intentional. And I could kiss her for it. Instead, I wrap my arm protectively around her collar, and she clutches onto me. “I’d rather burn,” she tells him.

“You mean if you’re into the whole domineering, jackass vibe,” I refute. “Or that,” she says. “But no offense, Ryke is more of the jackass.” She says it with an even larger smile.

I wish she would care more, but she entered the modeling industry at such a young age that I’m not sure she’ll ever see her body as something other than an object to the male gaze.

i feel so bad

Instead of being agitated by their in-the-face groping, I’m a little more aware of what I have. I turn to Connor, and for some reason, I can tell he’s been watching me, studying me, understanding everything. I trace his features: the smoothness of his unblemished skin, the waviness of his brown hair, and the curve of his muscles in his arms and chest, beneath a sophisticated button-down and behind those all-knowing blue eyes. He is power and perfection in so many ways that I will never admit aloud. His head would be humongous by the fact. But when I was younger, I often thought about what it would be like to be with him, physically. I was sixteen when I first pictured Connor inside of me, and the most contact I had with him was verbally fighting at Model UN Conferences. Literally, we’d stand in the hallways of a fancy hotel and argue about Epicurus and his philosophy on intangible things like love, happiness and God. Once Connor went off on a tangent in French, I tried to keep up. I vowed to be better than him. And so I studied harder. I opened more books. I made sure I was fluent enough to understand him and then more—to stump him. I never did, but I also never fell behind.