by Danah Logan
I reach over with my other hand to shift the truck into gear, not wanting to let go of her. Peering at her out of my peripheral vision, I say, "You look happy."
"I am." She squeezes my hand.
I draw in a deep breath, and as I slowly let the air out, all the tension I've held—for what feels like years—leaves my body. Where her skin is connected with mine, a tingling sensation begins to spread, and goose bumps erupt on my arm. Her thumb begins to stroke back and forth over my knuckles, and a sigh escapes me. I fight the urge to close my eyes and fully give in to the sensation.
We reach the townhouse, and I pull straight into the garage. I can't decide if I want to fuck this girl's brains out or simply fall asleep with her in my arms. The fierce need to protect her from everything and everyone makes my muscles coil, but at the same time, I haven't felt peace like this in…I don't know if I ever have.
With my hand in hers, I guide her from the garage up the stairs. Through the door leading onto the first floor, I hear laughter and someone hooting like a fucking lunatic. I frown.
"Sounds like Kai has company," King says quietly behind me, a pang of disappointment in her statement.
"At least it doesn't seem to be a full-blown party or mass orgy," I mumble to myself, but she hears it and snorts. "Are you sure about that?"
I'm spared the response as we enter the living room and find Kai, Mack, Zeke, and—
"Kiwi?" King's confusion mimics my surprise at finding her BFF in my living room.
"Hey, Roe-Roe." He grins, and I take in his leg pressed against Zeke's.
Mack cracks up out of nowhere, and I narrow my eyes.
What have we walked in on?
I wasn't gone that long. How the hell did this happen? The house was empty when I left.
I take in the beer bottles on the table and scan my roommate's face as he lifts his drink in my direction. "We're playing what would you not be able to do when…?"
"Huh?" I glance between the four guys spread out on the couch. Before I can ask anything else, King lets go of my hand, clapping hers together and jumping in place.
"Oh, oh, I wanna play!"
I stare at her incredulously. She rarely gets this animated unless she is pissed or—as I discovered—horny.
Her head swivels in my direction, and she beams. "It's something Kiwi and I used to play as kids to pass the time." Her excitement dims slightly. "Usually, it revolved more around topics like what would you do if our electricity would not be turned on again? Or what wouldn't you be able to do if—"
"Dude, that's fucking depressing," Mack exclaims as he lifts his beer to his lips.
"Well, hit me, then. What was your last would/wouldn't question?" my girl challenges him, and Kiwi's eyes widen. He shakes his head slightly, but I don't think anyone notices.
Kai leans forward and rests his forearms on his thighs, his bottle dangling between two fingers. "I asked the guys what they wouldn't be able to do anymore if they only had one hand."
The fuck?
"Oh, that's easy." King perks up, and all eyes are on her.
"Yeah? Let's hear it." Kai smirks.
"Well, you could masturbate, but you wouldn't be able to hold your phone and watch porn while you do it," she deadpans.
Zeke spits his beer across the couch table, and Kiwi breaks out in hysterical laughter. Mack gapes at her, slack-jawed, and Kai… I've never seen him this serious. King holds his stare, and I glance back and forth between them. I have no fucking clue what to say to this.
Suddenly, Kai stands up, walks over to us, and drops to his knees. King juts her eyebrows, and my roommate folds his hands like he's praying. "You're my queen!"
"Wha—?"
"You know what these douche canoes said?" He slowly stands up. "You wouldn't be able to braid your hair." He throws a glare of contempt at our teammates and Kiwi. "I mean, what the actual fuck? You, however…" He points a finger at King, still holding his drink by the neck. "You know what's important."
He turns so fast that I take a step back, pulling King with me by the belt loop of her jeans. Kai addresses the other three while still pointing at King. "This, gentlemen, is a woman who knows what's important. Let this be said: if our boy here doesn't stake his claim on Miss Monroe, I will!"
"Oh, Jesus Christ!" I roll my eyes while two of the three grin, and Mack still looks mystified.
I can't even be pissed at my roommate for his comment, because her answer was genius, and he's a hundred-percent right that I need to stake my claim.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Still giggling, Wes drags me down the hall. This is not how I thought this night would end. I was hoping for some more making out, maybe an explanation of where he was last week. But then again, the night is not over yet.
At Kai's declaration, aka challenge, against Wes, I fought to suppress my eager grin. Kiwi did not hold back. He gave me his toothiest smirk, and I rolled my eyes at him.
Maybe Wes needs the challenge to—
My train of thought breaks off when I realize where we are. The door clicks behind me, and my breath hitches. It's just the two of us. The sound of the others' laughter is muted, and with my pulse thumping inside my ears, it's barely noticeable. The room is illuminated by light spilling out from the adjoining bathroom, and I scan my surroundings. The furniture is high end. I heard a rumor that Kai's family's interior designer furnished the whole place. The color scheme is dark. Besides a desk, dresser, and nightstand, there is one more piece of furniture. I take in the massive king-size bed with its rumpled gray sheets and—I start counting—eight pillows? As if reading my mind, he elaborates, "A move-in present."
His arms wind around my midsection, and I lean my back against his front, resting my head against his collarbone. Placing my hands over his, he tightens his hold further. He bends down until his lips graze the shell of my ear. "Do you have any idea how many times I've envisioned having you here since last week?"
A shiver of pleasure runs down my spine, and I swallow over the saliva pooling in my mouth. I can feel him everywhere, even where our bodies are not connected—yet.
Then, a sobering thought strikes my brain. "Why did you disappear then?" I hate the vulnerability I'm allowing him to see.
His grip loosens, and I curse myself for ruining the mood. I shift to scan his face, expecting him to look angry, but instead, his gaze is toward the opposite wall, and I follow his line of sight. On his dresser is a framed picture that I hadn't noticed in the dimness before.
Wes steps away from me and reaches for my hand, leading me across the room. He picks the photo up with his other hand, holding it in front of us. I recognize the pictured individuals instantly. The picture was taken somewhere sunny and warm, judging by the palm trees in the background and the lack of clothes. The four are on a patio, scattered across various lounge chairs. Lilly and Denielle are in shorts and bikini tops. Lilly sits sideways on top of Rhys, his arms wrapped around her slender waist and her leaning into him. He is shirtless, only wearing green-camo cargo shorts. Denielle is on a chaise next to them with (what looks like) a cocktail in hand, ginormous glasses covering her eyes, and Wes sits with his elbows on his knees, leaning forward at the foot of Denielle's chair. They're all laughing.
Wes places the frame back on the dresser but doesn't move away. "This was taken a week before…you know what I'm talking about, right?" His head turns toward me, and I nod.
Of course I know. I've seen every single recording—numerous times.
"That day, everything was finally settled. All the paperwork was signed and filed—for Lilly." Wes adds the last two words when he sees my frown, and I understand. "We had one week to forget. Lilly had seven more days before they went public with the whole story, and for that limited time, we all pretended to be normal."
My stomach is in knots as he speaks about his friends.
"I haven't looked at this picture in years. I thought I threw it away. D brought it last week and must've set it on the dresser when I pulled the c
ar around. I haven't been able to take it down, no matter how much I want to."
He pauses, and I'm not sure if he's done speaking.
"What happened?" I whisper, wanting him to keep talking, wanting so desperately to understand what happened to the funny, charming boy I saw in the media before arriving in Stonebriar.
"I saw Lilly last week."
I hold my breath, not sure what to say without revealing anything I know about him—or her, for that matter.
"It was the first time since I left LA two years ago. Rhys showed up at my place a few weeks earlier. They're getting married next spring."
Oh, wow.
"I refused to talk to Rhys, kicked him out of the house. But then Den asked me to take her to the airport. She has a complicated relationship with Lilly's bodyguard; that's all I can say. Lilly and I… We got into it. She asked—fuck, it's not important. Then, I found the picture on the dresser...and everything came crashing back. The betrayal and anger. I felt like I was being choked. I thought I was past it, had moved on, but…I'm not."
The grimace tells me that it's not easy for him to admit that out loud, showing vulnerability.
"That's why you went AWOL?" I ask hesitantly.
Instead of answering, Wes pulls me over to the bed and settles against his mountain of pillows. He pulls me down beside him, and I nestle into the crook of his arm, resting my head on his chest.
He starts talking, telling me everything that has happened and led him to be in Stonebriar. Parts of it I knew from my stalkerish tendencies and what I could piece together from different media reports, but that didn't even scratch the surface. My heart breaks for him when he describes how betrayed he felt, and understanding sets in. Rhys may have wanted to help, but the combination of him going behind Wes's back, having kept so many secrets from him for years, and Wes losing his dream was too much. It broke him.
"I needed to forget," Wes ends his recollection, explaining his absence with those four words.
I start drawing circles on his chest, and he sighs. I peer up at him through my lashes. His eyes are closed, and he relaxes in front of me. I drink in his gorgeous features.
"Do you miss them?" I ask softly.
He remains silent for so long that I think he might have fallen asleep. But then he says, "I do."
I look away from him as a tear escapes my eye. He lifts his hand, turning me back to him. "Why are you crying, Princess?"
Princess.
"Maybe it's time to forgive them?" I am ignoring the blaring alarm bells in my head. I'm probably overstepping every boundary there is. What right do I have to suggest that?
Wes tugs on me until I'm on top of him, our noses touching, and his eyes merge to one.
"Maybe I should." His words are low, and I have to strain my ears.
Before I can reply, he captures my mouth with his, and as before, it's like I'm meant to be here—in his arms, with his lips on me. Wes deepens the kiss, his tongue tangling with mine, and heat builds in my core. His hands wander along my spine, and his touch burns itself into every muscle. His fingers find the hem of my jeans and slip inside, squeezing my bare ass. My entire body becomes feverish at the sensation of his rough touch against my flesh, and wetness pools between my legs.
"You're not wearing underwear," he growls against my mouth and begins trailing kisses along my jaw until he reaches the lobe of my ear. "Naughty, naughty." He licks the sensitive skin underneath, and my eyes roll back inside my head.
How can this feel so good?
There are many days I forgo panties, always depending on what I'm wearing, but tonight I may have had an ulterior motive. I rock my hips into him, and he groans, nipping at me.
Unashamed, I continue the motion, fully aware I am dry humping Wes. The friction of his hard cock against my pussy—even with the barrier of two pairs of jeans between us—is like heaven.
He removes his hands from my ass and grasps the bottom of my shirt. I disentangle myself from him so he can pull it off my body. Wes sits both of us up, and I straddle his lap. My arms wrap around his shoulders, and I press my mouth back to his, the short break instantly starving me for him. With a swift movement, he unlatches the clasp of my bra and slides the straps down my shoulders until the material falls into our joined lap.
His hand cups my breast, and all my senses go into overdrive.
Oh, God.
When his mouth leaves me, I want to protest, until I realize what he's doing. His tongue makes contact with my pebbled nipple, and a moan escapes my throat.
I throw my head back and lean into his caress. When he bites down ever so slightly, I can't hold back.
"Fuck, yes!"
Can one come from just getting their tits sucked on?
It's that moment that Wes's door flies open. "Hey, Roe-Roe! I'm gonna—oh fuck!"
"WHAT THE HELL?" Wes roars, throwing me on the mattress behind him and shielding me with his body.
I squeak in surprise, covering myself with my arms. I peer around Wes at an extremely pale and wide-eyed Kiwi.
"Oh, uh…shit. I, um—" he stammers.
"Get. The. Fuck. Out!" Wes sounds lethal, and I stifle a laugh. Kiwi has seen me naked—several times. We grew up together, after all. But he has never seen me with a guy.
My best friend jerks around without another word, and the door slams shut.
Outside, we can hear the other guys ask what happened, and I let myself fall into Wes's obscene amount of pillows, unable to hold back any longer.
He rounds on me. "This is not funny. I'm sick of having blue balls when it comes to you."
His anger is half-hearted, and it makes me crack up even more.
With the mood down the drain and it being almost one in the morning, I end up riding home with Kiwi. Wes wasn't too happy, but it also felt weird to sleep over—no matter how much I wanted to wake up in his arms.
Kiwi is oddly quiet on the drive, and when he stops in front of my house, he keeps his eyes forward.
I place my hand on his thigh and squeeze. "Hey, what's going on?"
After what feels like minutes, he looks at me, and what I see makes my heartbeat speed up. I'm not going to like what he has to say.
He stares past me into the darkness as he speaks. "You know I love you, Roe-Roe. And I only want the best for you." He pauses. "If someone deserves the world, it's you."
When he trails off, I have a suspicion where he is leading with this. My throat goes dry, and words won't come out, so I jerk my head up and down.
Please don't say it.
"I hate being the asshole doing this, but I also feel it's my…obligation to watch out for you."
He is going to say it.
"I'm worried what will happen when you get in too deep with Wes." He quickly adds, "Don't get me wrong. I like the guy, I do, but—"
"But?" My one-word question is no more than a croak.
"What are you going to do when he shows up? You know he will. Can you leave Wes when it comes down to it?"
I blink rapidly against the moisture quickly clouding my vision. "I…fuck!" I cover my face with my palms. I don't want my best friend to see in my eyes what I, deep down, have known since Wes kissed me for the first time. I'm falling for him. No, I already have fallen. I have no clue what I'm going to do. I don't want to leave him, but inevitably, the day will come. Even if he doesn't force me to leave, someone in Wes's inner circle will eventually find out who I am.
Fingers wrap around my wrists, and Kiwi gently pulls my hands away. "You know I always have your back. Just promise me you will be careful."
I force myself to nod. Tugging a hand free, I swipe under my eyes and draw in a deep breath. How can my heart feel like it's breaking after Wes and I finally start to get closer?
If we continue this conversation, I don't know what I will do. If anyone can talk sense into me, it's my best friend. But for now, I want to enjoy my time with Wes—however long that may be.
After Kiwi drives off, I stand in front of my house fo
r a long time. Maybe I should leave now before we go even further.
I have myself almost talked into packing up the Jeep when my phone in my back pocket begins to vibrate.
I pull it out, and Wes's name flashes across the screen. Instantly, my chest is filled with a flock of hummingbirds, and my mind is back in his bedroom, Wes's mouth on me. God, his mouth.
I should let it go to voice mail. Instead, I swipe and hold the phone to my ear. "Hey."
One foot in front of the other, I slowly walk to the door.
"Hey." The sound of his voice makes everything that's wrong in my life right. I can't leave him. Not unless I have no other choice.
"Why are you not asleep?" I unlock the door and step inside the house. Before I can fully close it, Echo is by my side, pressing against my leg, and I scratch her ear.
"Well," he sighs exasperatedly, "see, there was this girl here earlier. She is… She has fucked with my head, and I have no clue what to do about her."
His admission catches me off guard, and I stop in the middle of the hallway, my dog bumping into me. "Oh?"
He chuckles. "Yes, what do you think I should do?"
I start moving again, past Mags's closed door, and let myself into my room. Echo races past me to her bed in the corner.
I sink onto the mattress, chewing on my thumbnail as I contemplate his words. "Does this girl reciprocate your feelings?"
There is silence on the other end, and my stomach rolls. Did he want to hear something else?
"I hope she does," he admits, and I understand how much it means for him to open up this way.
Any other girl might have started playing games to get more reassurance from him, but not me. I inhale deeply. Here goes nothing. "She does." I feel ridiculous talking about myself in the third person, so I amend, "I do."
My heart is pounding in my throat, waiting for his next words.
"Can I pick you up for class tomorrow?" He knows I don't go to MPU, yet he treats me like I'm any other student.