Every Kiss

by Tasha Ivey

  Oh my God, that’s amazing. No, wait. This is bad. But oh-so-good. I feel a shift deep in my belly, an immediate heaviness that I have to force myself to ignore before I get myself into trouble.

  “Sorry, I just lost my mind for a second,” he whispers into my ear.

  I wish he’d lose it permanently.

  After a while, Makenna starts to relax and have fun. We all are, dancing one song right after another, until we’re all sweaty and thirsty and pleasantly exhausted.

  “Shane and I are going to take a break and get a drink.” She yells over the steady pounding of bass. “Want to come?”

  The song changes over into something slower, and Wes grabs my arm. “Uh, I think I’ll dance one more, and then we’ll join you.”

  “Okay,” she says, flagging down our waitress as they leave the floor.

  Wes pulls me in close, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing me against his firm stomach as we begin swaying back and forth. “You’re a good dancer, Lucy.”

  I giggle at him, resting my cheek at the top of his chest. “I forgot all about that name.”

  “I don’t forget too much about you, no matter how hard I try.”

  “I know what you mean.” I lift my head and look up at him, immediately catching the familiar scent of whiskey on his breath. I want to taste it on his lips, to climb this invisible barrier between us and lose myself in him again. But knowing that I can’t is killing me. It could be the whole “wanting something I can’t have” thing, but I really don’t think so. There’s something more to it, some unknown factor that draws me to him. “I—I think I’m ready to sit down for a bit.”

  “You okay?” A look of concern sweeps across his face.

  “Yeah.” Not really. “I’m just thirsty.” And I need to pull back the reins a little bit. Being in his arms fills me with false hope, and knowing that there’s absolutely no truth to it—and never will be—is gnawing at me. He’s not the only one who needs to keep the distance, the safety net of protection from a broken heart. I need it to salvage any shred of sanity I have left when it comes to Wesley Baxter.

  He keeps his hand on my lower back until we slide into the booth. I pick up my glass of water and suck on the straw greedily, enjoying the cool liquid soothing my dry throat. Shane and Makenna are a little too wrapped up in each other to notice we’ve come back to the table, and even if they did notice, their tongues are way too busy to say so. Wes is clearly uncomfortable. He has his head resting in his hand, effectively blocking his view of them. I guess this strikes me as odd because he’s usually so unflappable. Maybe it’s just because it’s his brother, and that fact makes it a little weird.

  I wad up a napkin and toss it at them, landing it exactly where their lips meet. “You two think you can stop that for a few minutes. I think I’m ready to go.”

  Makenna looks down at her watch. “But it’s only eleven! You can’t go home at eleven on your twenty-first birthday.”

  “What I want more than anything right now is to shower, put on some comfy clothes, and maybe drink some wine on the balcony before bed. That will make my birthday complete.”

  She slumps, but I suspect she’s a little relieved. After not seeing Shane much lately, I’m sure she can’t wait to get back and have a little more “private time” with him. “If that’s what you want.”

  No, not even close.

  WHAT A WEIRD birthday this has been. This is the first birthday that my mom hasn’t cooked homemade cinnamon rolls for me. This is the first birthday that my family didn’t throw a party for me. The first time I haven’t had my grandma’s chocolate cake, and the first year I didn’t blow out candles. I guess this is all part of making my way into adulthood.

  Instead, I’ve spent my day with my best friend, who decided to give me a band t-shirt and an infuriatingly complicated man—who I can’t have—for my birthday. I ordered wine with dinner for the first time. I danced my ass off in a club with my friends. I had a lot of fun today.

  But as I lie down in my bed, I can’t help feeling like something was missing from my day. I’ve showered and dried my hair. I put on my softest t-shirt. The bed is just the right firmness. But I don’t feel right. So much so that it’s depressing. Then again, I’ve felt this way ever since I hurled my shoes at Wes today. Having him here is really eating at me. We can only be friends, even if both of us want more than that. I understand that, and I now understand why he’s that way. I can honestly say that, given his past experiences, I don’t really blame him for feeling that way, for feeling like he can’t trust a woman.

  It’s the unrelenting pull, though, that didn’t seem to get the memo. I’m drawn to him in a way that I’ve never been drawn to a man before. There’s a constant nagging craving for him, clawing and twisting and tearing at me inside. It’s like being stuck in a nightmare where you’re running but you never can get anywhere; you’re stuck in place. I’m trying to run away. I’m trying to keep the distance that we desperately need, but I stay firmly planted where I am, never getting any farther away. If anything, I’m only drawn closer. Every time he smiles at me, every time his gaze meets mine, and every time his fingertips touch my skin.

  A soft rap at the door startles me. “Yes?”

  Wes peeks his head into the door. “Can I come in for a minute?”

  “Sure,” I agree, sitting up in bed. The moonlight streaming through the balcony doors casts a hint of silver luminescence through the room, so I can see him well enough to notice he’s recently showered and changed into his pajamas, too. “What do you have behind your back?”

  “Shh.” He crawls onto the bottom of the bed, sitting cross-legged with one hand still behind his back. “Close your eyes until I tell you to open them.”

  I start to protest, but he cocks his head to the side with his eyebrows raised, daring me to provoke him. “Fine.”

  When my eyes fall closed, I feel a slight shift on the mattress and sense a hint of sweetness in the air. A sharp rasping noise is followed by the pungent scent of phosphorus from a lit match. I know exactly what he’s doing now, and it’s hard to suppress my smile. Why does he have to be so damn amazing sometimes? I think this was a lot easier when he was intentionally trying to make me hate him.

  “Okay, open.”

  An enormous chocolate cupcake sits between us on a saucer. The creamy milk chocolate frosting resembles a rose and it has crystal-like sugar glitter sprinkled over the top, which is reflecting the golden glow of the single white candle in the center. It’s probably the most beautiful cupcake I’ve ever seen.

  “Wes, I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

  “Just payback for making my birthday a little more special.” He checks the time on his cell phone. “But you better hurry. You have just over a minute to make a wish.”

  I smirk at him. “You never cease to surprise me.”

  My eyes close, and I try hard to think of the perfect wish for this perfect moment. The first ones that pop into my mind involve Wes, this bed, and a lot less clothes, but after Wes explained part of his past to me today, I know he needs the wish way more than I do. So that’s what I wish for—him. I wish that he can find peace in his life. I wish that he can resolve those deep rooted insecurities and heal those scars. I wish he could learn to trust again, to love again. Even if it’s not with me, I hope he finds true happiness, that he’ll let go of the ghosts of his past and can finally let those walls come crashing down.

  After taking a deep breath, I open my slightly moist eyes and blow out the single flame, causing a thin thread of smoke to rise between us. “There. Wish made.”

  “Good, and just in the nick of time.”

  “I hope so. And thanks for making my Sixteen Candles dreams come true, Jake.”

  He smiles, somehow knowing exactly what I’m talking about. “But we didn’t kiss before you blew the candle out, Samantha.”

  “And my wish hasn’t come true yet. Why am I not all that surprised that you know that movie?”

&nbs
p; Wes holds up a fork. “So I like eighties movies. It’s not a big deal. But it might be a big deal if I made a secret trip to a bakery this afternoon to get this cupcake and you don’t eat it.” He peels back one side of the paper and cuts into it, producing a man-sized bite and holding it up to my mouth. “Open up. Don’t force me to start making airplane noises. I’ll so do it.”

  I start to tell him that I’m not a toddler, but he takes the opportunity as soon as my mouth opens to shove the bite between my lips. Now, I have cake and frosting everywhere, I’m trying to chew this huge sticky chunk of cake, and I can’t stop laughing. I can imagine it’s not a very attractive sight. But I can’t let him have all the fun.

  I set the cupcake on the nightstand, so he can’t arm himself anymore, and I swipe my finger through the top of the cupcake, collecting a big blob on my fingertip and holding it up. “It’s only fair,” I mumble through the mouthful of cake. “If I have to wear frosting, you do, too.”

  He sits still and shrugs his shoulders. “If you think you can smear that on my face, go ahead and try.”

  I narrow my eyes and look down at his hands resting in his lap. He doesn’t look like he’s even going to try to stop me, but I heard the warning in his voice. This will just be a matter of who is quicker, and I’m pretty damn quick. I finally swallow and try to lick the frosting from my lips, hoping it will serve as enough distraction. He is a man, after all.

  Sucking my bottom lip into my mouth, I make my move and reach toward his cheek as quickly as I can. But I should’ve known his hand would dart up and catch mine before I could connect.

  “Nice try,” he says before raising my hand up and closing his lips around my finger. I feel his tongue swirling around it, sucking deeply until every trace of the sugary icing is gone. And it’s really unnecessary to explain my body’s response to that right now. Oh, his mouth is definitely a guilty pleasure of mine.

  Finally, he slips my finger from his mouth, but he doesn’t let go of my hand. He pulls on my wrist, urging me closer until we meet in the middle, only a couple of inches away.

  “Be still,” he practically purrs. Leaning in just a little more, his lips touch the corner of my mouth, and his tongue stretches out to sweep across the frosting smeared there before moving to the other side to do the same. “I forgot how good you taste with chocolate.”

  I’m doing good to just breathe at this point, so speaking is out of the question at the moment.

  Wes’ thumb traces along my jaw and then swipes across my lips. His labored breath puffs onto my face. His blue eyes appear grey in the dim light, resembling the raging storm brewing just behind them. “Stop me, Callie.”

  “No,” I force the words from my lips on a sigh.

  His icy glare cuts into me, but I know he’s not upset with me. He’s fighting a battle of wills, and I’m not about to join in on that crusade. It’s not my fight. And when he closes the gap between us, I know the war is lost.

  Wes’ kiss isn’t gentle, but I’m not complaining. It’s frantic and all-consuming. Like those first gasps of air when you’ve been underwater way too long. Just as my fingers dig into his chest, tugging at his shirt to bring him closer, he fists his hands into the hair on each side of my head, doing the same. He sucks hard at my lips, the most perfect combination of pleasure and pain, causing a gasp to hiss from my mouth. His tongue taunts mine, teasing it until he coaxes it out just far enough for his teeth to catch it, and he sucks it deeply into his mouth just as hard.

  The low moan that escapes my throat catches me by complete surprise. I never really experimented with anything bordering on the edge of rough before, but I feel it bringing out something a little darker in me, something that makes me want to bite and claw and bring Wes to his knees. There’s never been a guy to really push that boundary before with me. Sure, I’ve done my share of experimenting, and it’s been somewhat fun, but there’s never been anything that’s gotten my blood pumping quite like this. This is hot.

  Wanting to turn it up a notch or two, I rise up on my knees and climb into his lap without ever breaking the kiss. Just as I wrap my legs around his waist, one of his hands skims down my spine and into the back of my panties, gripping my behind until I can feel his nails biting into the tender flesh. He grinds me against him, the rock hard ridge I feel is a clear sign of what a turn on this is for him, too. I reach down between us, eager to touch him, but just as my fingertips slip behind his waistband, he freezes. He stops kissing me. He stops moving. He just looks at me with this wounded expression on his face.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  A deep sigh is forced from his lungs. “Damn it, Callie. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get all of this started. I swear this wasn’t my plan. This is exactly why I have to keep distance from you.”

  “Just stop thinking for five minutes. Get out of your head and just feel for a change. You don’t have to constantly fight it, you know.” I hold each of his cheeks in my hands, forcing him to look at me. “Why? Why can’t we have this? Why can’t you just try?”

  Wes closes his eyes. “No. I can’t do this. You know that already. And clearly you and I are incapable of a platonic relationship, so I think we should stop attempting it.” He grips my thighs and leans forward, effectively laying me down onto the bed. “I’m sorry, Callie.”

  He pulls back, causing my legs and arms to fall away from him, and he drags the blankets back up over me. Swinging his feet over off the side of the bed, he looks back at me. “Please understand that I’m not walking away right now because I don’t like you. I do. If I were halfway sane, I’d spend the rest of this week in bed with you and make you beg me to stop. But I can’t risk putting myself—or you—through that kind of pain that will inevitably follow when it’s over. I can walk away now, knowing that you’re perfect in every way and that you’re probably the most beautiful person, inside and out, that I’ve ever known. That’s the best and safest possible ending for both of us. Before you start hating me, before you realize I’m not good enough for you, before you can’t stand to even hear my voice. I want to end it now while you still want me around because I’m pretty sure that knowing you don’t would cut me deeper than anyone ever has.”

  The pain behind his words is a true testament of the turmoil and bitterness of betrayal that has taken deep root within his soul. Knowing that he thinks he has to stop being my friend now, before I eventually start hating him, makes me want to cry. I want to hold him and tell him that I could never hate him, that he’s more than good enough for me. He’s perfect for me.

  “None of that could ever happen, Wes.”

  He holds up his hand and shakes his head. “Please don’t say that. I’ve heard all of that before, and words are never enough. People can lie long before they even realize the truth. You can say whatever you think you feel right now, but it won’t take long for you to realize that you were only lying to yourself. Trust me on this.” He moves to open the bedroom door but stops and looks back at me. “I can’t be your friend anymore, Callie. I can’t pretend this will work. From now on, if you’re going to be at my parents’ house for any reason, I’d appreciate it if you tell Shane to warn me, so I’m not around. And I’ll start calling before I go to Shane’s to make sure you’re not there.”

  “Come on, don’t be childish about this. We don’t have to take it that far.” I can feel the heat of anger rising to the surface, but I’m suspicious that he wants to piss me off.

  He grabs my phone from the nightstand and punches a series of buttons before laying it back down. “I deleted my number, and I’ll also delete yours from mine. We’ll just pretend we never met. By the time your vacation is over, you won’t even remember my name.”

  “Wes, you’re being ridiculous. Would you just sit down and talk to me for a minute? I’m sure there’s a better way to handle this, but you have to be willing to trust me.”

  “I couldn’t ever trust you.”

  My mouth falls open, and I have a nearly uncontrollable urge to sla
p the shit out of him.

  “I wish you the best, Callie.” He shuts the door softly, and his footsteps fade away down the stairs.

  “WHAT THE HELL happened last night, Callie?” Makenna stands over me with her hands fisted at her hips.

  I rub my eyes and squint up at her. “I’d love to tell you, but first you have to give me some clue of what you’re talking about.”

  “Let’s start with this.” She shoves a folded slip of paper in my face.

  I can see the shadow of words scrawled on the inside, and I have a feeling this isn’t good. I could easily bet a million dollars that I know who wrote this note.

  Yep. I was right.

  Shane,

  Something came up with work, and I need to get back and take care of it. Since you don’t have anything else going on right now, I thought it would be good for you to stay here this week and hang out with Makenna, and you can just ride back with her. There’s not any sense in you only staying the weekend because of me. Sorry for having to bail on you in the middle of the night, but I doubt you’ll miss me. I’m sure Mak is much better company. Call me when you get back next weekend, and we’ll make plans to hang out.

  Love you little bro,

  W

  “Well, if I had to guess, it looks like he had something come up at work, and needed to get back. It’s not unusual for him to work on the weekend.”

  She plops onto the side of the bed. “Nice try. Tell me what really happened.”

  I stare at her for a moment, deciding how many details I’m willing to part with. “Okay. Your scheme bombed big time, and I owe you a good reaming. But right now, I’d rather sleep, so pencil me in for later today.”