by T. K. Leigh
“The thing is, Wes…” I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to make sense out of my jumbled thoughts, everything fighting for attention. I want to say so many things, tell him everything I’ve kept from him for months. “When you introduced me as your interior designer earlier, it hurt.”
His steps eat up the distance between us, eyes narrowed on me in apology. “I’m sorry, Londyn. I know I—”
“Please.” I hold up my hand, cutting him off and stopping him from getting any closer. It’s difficult enough to form a coherent thought as it is. “I need to get this out.”
He blinks, then nods, giving me some space. “Okay.”
“Okay.” I take a deep breath as I pace in front of him. “I understand why you did that. After all, I’m the one who’s constantly insisted we keep our relationship strictly professional. Nothing more.” I come to a stop, lifting my eyes to meet his, my pulse racing. “But I think we both know that’s not true. You’ve never just been my client, have you?”
“I don’t want to be,” he answers softly, his tone even. “But I also promised I wouldn’t wait for you. That I’d live my life, and you’d live yours.”
“That you did.” I step toward him. “But we both know you broke that promise.”
“What makes you say that?”
“It’s just a feeling. Something tells me this was all part of your plan. That you pretty much tricked me into dating you without realizing it.”
“And what would you say if I did?” He holds his breath, as if my next statement will decide his fate. In a way, I suppose it does.
I take another step toward him, only a whisper between our bodies. My heart pounds violently, my stomach in knots.
“I’d thank you for making me realize I can have it all. The truth is, I don’t want to be just your interior designer. But I don’t want to be just your friend, either.”
His jaw tightens, shoulders rising and falling with his increasingly unsteady breaths. I notice his fingers flinch, wanting to reach out and touch me. But he doesn’t, the heat of him so close driving me to the edge of reason.
“What do you want, Londyn?”
“You, Wes,” I admit with a quiver. “I want you. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“Nothing less,” he repeats as he closes his eyes, pushing out a relieved breath.
When he returns his gaze to mine, it’s fiery, yet ardent at the same time. He gradually lifts his hands toward me, giving me a chance to change my mind, to back out. But I’m done running from him. From love. I want to embrace everything he is and never look back.
Our chests heave in unison as he clutches my cheeks, a spark shooting through me.
“Is this okay?” he whispers huskily, just like he did when we first kissed.
And just like that night, I answer, “Yes.”
His mouth inches closer, my insides tightening, my veins on fire with anticipation.
“Is this okay?” he asks again.
“Yes.”
“And this?” His lips scrape delicately with mine, the barely-there touch making me thirsty for more.
“God, yes,” I moan.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
He moves one hand to my waist, tugging me against him. Our kiss is tender at first as we test the connection we’ve both been missing these past few months. I can tell he’s hesitant, not freely kissing me for fear I’ll push him away. For fear it’s too much, too soon. But I don’t want to leave any doubt in his mind that this is what I want. That I choose to face my fears head-on. That I choose him.
Wrapping my arms around him, I curve closer, swiping my tongue along the seam of his mouth, begging for entry. He opens for me, and I deepen our exchange, clutching him tighter as I rub my body against his.
He growls, his grip on me tightening as he kisses me with more passion, more hunger, more intensity.
He pulls back slightly, breathing labored. “Goddamn,” he hisses. “What the hell are you doing to me? I’ve never…” He licks his lips, seemingly at a loss for words. “Tell me you feel this, too. A hunger that you don’t think you’ll ever be able to satisfy.”
“I feel this,” I murmur, raising myself onto my toes, touching my lips to his. “But I do have a few ideas about how to satisfy you.”
“Is that right?”
“That’s right.” I grab onto his t-shirt, peppering kisses along his jawline. “It involves a bed and losing these clothes.”
His eyes flame as he crushes his mouth to mine in a bruising kiss. Desperate hands are everywhere, roaming, exploring, reacquainting ourselves with each other.
“I need you,” I exhale, throwing my head back as he moves from my lips, sucking on that tender place where my earlobe meets my neck.
“I’ve needed you since the first time I saw you. Was desperate to know if you tasted as good as you smelled.”
“Then why don’t you find out.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice.”
In one swift motion, he swoops me into his arms in a cradle hold, his determined strides carrying me up the stairs, my infectious laughter ringing through the house.
I try to take in my surroundings as he rushes down the long hallway of the second floor. I’ve never seen this part of his home before and don’t want to miss anything. But Wes is a man on a mission, everything going by in a blur until he stops at the door at the end of the hall.
He pushes it open with his foot and walks inside the darkened bedroom, only a dim light in the reading area near the fireplace in the corner illuminating the space. My feet sink into the plush carpeting as he sets me on the floor beside the king-size bed. A few art pieces adorn the neutral gray walls, the simplicity matching that of the rest of the room.
“One second,” Wes says as he steps from me and toward the reading nook. “Come on, Zeus. You’re sleeping somewhere else tonight.” When he whistles, the dog reluctantly pulls himself away from his bed, glancing at me, yawning as he walks toward the door.
“You’re kicking him out?” I absentmindedly wonder how Zeus slept through me knocking when every other dog I’ve ever known would have been the first at the door, making a ruckus. Then again, Wes’ bedroom is on the opposite end of the house. He probably didn’t hear it all the way back here.
Closing the door, Wes smiles slyly as he returns to me. “With what we’re about to do, I don’t want to have any interruptions.” He circles his waist against me, his arousal igniting the sparks within.
“And what are we about to do?”
“Jump, Londyn,” he says sincerely. “We’re about to jump. Do you trust me enough not to let you fall?”
There’s not even a question in my mind. “I do.” I hoist myself onto my toes, my lips seeking his. But instead of his mouth covering mine, he places a finger on it.
“But I’m going to warn you. If we do this, I won’t let you push me away again. I will fight for you, tooth and nail. So unless you’re ready to give me your mind…”
He brushes his lips against my temple, his gentle kiss sending a bolt of electricity through me.
“Your body…”
My eyelids flutter closed when he slides a finger across my cheek, along my jaw, and down my throat, before settling his hand over my chest.
“And your heart…”
I snap my eyes open, my gaze locking with his resolute and powerful stare.
“This isn’t a passing fling for me. It never has been. So if you’re not willing to finally let me in, I won’t do this. Won’t put myself through this again.”
As he makes his plea to me, his voice is laced with pain. I don’t know why it surprises me so much. Maybe because I had this vision of him leading the perfect life, able to have any woman he wants. But now that I know the ache he still carries from having his heart broken, I can understand why he’d be hesitant. We’ve both been hurt by people we once trusted, but in different ways.
Regardless, Wes is ready to jump in feet first, take a risk on something that s
cares the shit out of him. Just like he helped me forget about my fear of heights on that Ferris wheel, like he soothed me after that snake slithered over me, like he risked his own life when I was seconds away from getting hit by a truck, I know I can face my fears with him at my side.
Placing my hand over his on my chest, I squeeze. “It’s yours, Wes. Just… Promise you’ll be gentle with it. You don’t understand the kind of power you hold over me.”
“It’s the same power you hold over me. You have my word. I’ll keep it safe. Keep you safe.”
A lone teardrop slides down my cheek. “That’s all I need to know.”
He covers my lips with his and places a hand on the small of my back, steering me toward the bed and lowering me onto the surface. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I run my fingers up and down his back, reveling in the tautness of his muscles against my hands. He tears away from me, chest heaving as he rips off his t-shirt. He’s about to lower himself back to me, but I stop him, pressing my hand to his chest.
“What’s wrong?” he asks frantically.
I raise myself to sitting. “I want to look at you.”
“Is that right?” He smirks, eyes dancing with delight in the darkness.
Biting my lower lip, I nod.
“Okay then. I’m at your complete disposal.” He leans back, kneeling on the mattress.
I adjust my position, scrambling to my knees. When I scrape my fingers down his firm muscles, he releases a hiss.
“God, your touch drives me crazy.”
I glance down at his pajama pants. “I see that.”
Emboldened, I smooth my hand down the hard planes of his defined abs, my motions slow as I examine his body before landing on his erection. He inhales sharply.
Leaning into him, I take his earlobe between my teeth. “I feel that.”
Desperation takes over, and he palms my back, yanking me against him, his kiss hot and heavy as his free hand roams my frame. Grasping the hem of my sweater, he pulls out of our kiss long enough to lift it over my head before slamming his mouth back to mine.
I moan, the sensation of flesh against flesh causing the flames inside me to burn hot and impervious. Mouth to mouth. Chest to chest. Heart to heart.
He reaches around me, deftly unhooking my bra. His stare penetrates my skin and pierces my soul as he leisurely lowers the straps down my arms.
He gently cups my face in his hand, the gesture at complete odds with the ferocity with which he just kissed me. I melt into him, closing my eyes, basking in the affection vibrating through him.
“If it’s too much at any point, tell me to stop. Okay?”
“Wes,” I begin, my chest heaving as desire scorches through my veins.
“Yes?”
I dig my fingers into his hair, pulling his face toward mine. “Don’t stop.”
With a groan, he presses his mouth to mine. This kiss is less hungry, but still brimming with need. His hand moves to my back as he lowers me to the mattress once more, settling between my thighs.
He pulls back, his eyes briefly locking with mine before appreciating the rest of my body. His light touch roams my frame. When he ghosts against a nipple, I inhale sharply, the slight grazing of his hand against the sensitive skin scalding me.
“Is this okay?” he murmurs seductively.
“Yes,” I exhale, desperation building inside me. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. It’s the sweetest torture. The cruelest oblivion.
With slow movements, he lowers his mouth to my chest, teasing my nipple.
“Is this okay?” he repeats.
“God, yes.” I melt into the mattress, savoring this temporary bliss. But the warmth of his mouth on my breast only increases my craving to feel him on other parts of me. “More.”
When he bares his teeth, scrapping slightly, I yelp, then moan, digging my nails into his back. He arches into me, his breathing ragged.
“I need to taste you. Can I do that?”
“You don’t need to ask. I’m yours.”
He treats me to another impassioned kiss. “Mine.”
“Yours.”
“Mine,” he says once more, then meets my gaze. “But for the record. I will always ask for your permission. Always.”
“Always,” I repeat as he travels from my lips, taking his time to enjoy every inch of me. From the swell of my breasts, to the dip of my belly button, to the curve of my hips, worshipping me as if I’m a goddess and he’s come to give thanks at my altar.
As he reaches my waist, he looks up at me, a question drawn on his face.
I nod quickly, raising my hips so he can slide off my jeans and panties. After tossing them onto the floor, he returns to me, caressing my stomach, something in his gaze as he admires me. Something I’ve seen for a while now but refused to admit. Something so much more potent than respect or veneration, although those things are there, too. It’s the same look I saw my father bestow upon my mother. The same look I’ve always wanted a man to bestow upon me.
This man loves me. He may not have said those words yet, but there’s no mistaking it.
“Wes, I…”
His eyes search mine. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. Better than okay. I…” I trail off, steeling myself for what I’m about to do. But just like with the Ferris wheel and snake, I know Wes will be by my side while I confront this last fear. “I… I love you.”
He stills, gaze widening, my declaration ringing out between us.
“You don’t have to say it back,” I continue quickly. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same or aren’t ready to say it yet. I just… After months…hell, years of keeping all my feelings locked up, I don’t want to do that anymore. I’m turning over a new leaf. And I wanted to tell you. Thought you deserved to know.”
A smile curves his mouth as he delicately brushes his lips with mine. “Do you really think I would have done everything I have these past few months if I didn’t love you?”
I release a nervous laugh. “Probably not.”
He pushes a few curls away from my face. “You captivated me the moment I felt you in my arms. I knew you were different. Knew you would be the last woman I’d ever love. So to answer you, I am hopelessly, madly, and completely in love with you, Londyn Bennett.”
“Oh, Wes,” I exhale as I wrap my legs around him, forcing his lips against mine.
Our exchange turns heated as I circle my hips, his erection straining against his pajama bottoms causing fire to rush through me when he rubs against me.
“I need you. Don’t make me wait any longer.”
“Your wish is my command,” he replies slyly and snakes down my frame, kissing and caressing as he goes, my legs loosening their grip around his waist. With each inch he travels, the more ragged my breathing, my core tightening with the promise of what’s to come.
When he settles between my thighs, he floats his gaze to mine, a devilish glint within. “You have no idea how long I’ve fantasized about this.”
“Is that right?” I smirk.
He slowly nods. “That’s right.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” I ask breathlessly. “A written invitation?”
“Just prolonging the moment. I don’t want this to end any time soon.” When his finger skims my center, I moan, sparks shooting through me. “Is this okay?” he asks as he rubs my clit.
“Yes.” I struggle to catch my breath, a myriad of sensations filling me. I pulse against him, desperate to feel more of him. To feel all of him.
He inserts a finger inside me, the ache building more and more as I increase my motions.
“Is this okay?”
“Yes,” I moan, squirming in anticipation. I peer down at him, his own gaze trained on me as he lowers his mouth toward me. At the first flick of his tongue against my clit, I push out my held breath, muscles relaxing as all the tension that’s been building for months rolls off me.
“Is this okay?” he asks one last time.
“God, yes.”
“That’s my girl.” He returns his mouth to me.
His touch is commanding, enticing, intoxicating. Every swipe of his tongue, every plunge of his fingers, every vibration of his moans propels me closer to that point of complete and utter oblivion.
“Your girl,” I repeat as I thread my fingers through his hair, moving my hips with the rhythm he sets, euphoria filling me. So profound. So poignant. So powerful.
“That’s right, baby.” He increases his motions, inserting another finger, stretching and massaging me with a mixture of hunger and benevolence. “Let me feel you.”
When his mouth covers me once more, it sends me over the edge. My toes curl. My back arches. My pulse skyrockets. I clench the sheets beneath me, my cries of pleasure reverberating against the walls as I come undone in front of this man. This beautiful, patient man.
As I try to return to earth, I quiver, every inch of me overly sensitive and throbbing.
But I still need more.
“Come here,” I order, pulling him up.
With a devious grin, he follows my command, slithering up my body. Craning forward, I slam my lips against his, tasting myself on his tongue.
“God, I want you,” he breathes into me.
“And I want you. I need you.”
“And I need you.” He pulls back. “There’s just one problem.”
“Problem?”
“Well, I didn’t exactly plan for this. I don’t have any condoms.”
“I’m on the pill,” I tell him. “After everything, I—”
He cups my cheek, cutting me off with a kiss. “It’s in the past. It doesn’t matter. Not here. Not when it’s us. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” He captures my mouth with another kiss, circling his hips against me.
I scrape my nails down his back, needing to get rid of the last barrier between us. Finding the waist of his pajama pants, I start to shove them down his legs. He breaks away, kicking them the rest of the way off before returning to me. When his erection rubs against me, I moan, needing more of him. Needing all of him.
Our kiss is reckless, teeth clashing as we take everything we can from each other, nothing extinguishing the flame that’s been building since that first meeting. Wes slowly moves against me, tempering my own frantic motions, and I whimper. Our kiss becomes less desperate, more ardent, genuine, heartfelt.