He takes me out the front door and across the lawn, where his car is parked. He opens the front door. “Get in,” he demands.
I cross my arms and raise my eyebrows at him. “Why should I?”
He leans in, getting so close that I can feel the heat radiating off of him in the cold, foggy air. “Because I can’t live like this anymore, and we need to talk.”
I inhale and nod my head, knowing he’s right. We need to hash this out, or we’ll never be able to continue to live together. I sit down and buckle my seat belt as I watch him walk to his side of the car.
“Where are we going?” I ask while I text Nicole and Amanda to let them know where I am.
“Anywhere but home,” he states as he cranks the engine and checks over his shoulder before pulling away from the street.
I fold my arms across my chest. “Why can’t we go home?” He doesn’t answer as his hands fiercely grip the steering wheel. “Seriously, Wes. Stop being so cryptic.”
“I don’t trust myself, okay? There, I said it. At home, there are beds and …” He shakes his head, not saying anything more.
Well then … so this is the direction this is going.
He pulls into the first parking lot he can find and kills the engine. The streetlight is off in the distance, so I can barely make out his facial features, but I do notice the way he keeps his eyes closed for a little too long before opening them and turning to me.
“What’s your game, Stacey?”
“I’m not playing a game.”
“Cut the crap. You’re messing with me, and I want to know why.”
“I should be asking you the same thing. You’re always messing with me. Keeping guys away, calling me childhood nicknames, and baby-sistering me all the time.”
“Baby sister …” he speaks like the words are a curse and he can’t understand why I’d say that. “You think I look at you like a sister? How could I when I’m all fucking tied up with these feelings?”
My breath hitches, and I take a moment to let what he just said sink in. “What feelings are those?” I say, barely above a whisper.
He drops his head against the rest and doesn’t look at me. “That’s what I don’t know.” He inhales, slowly letting it out. “I mess with you because you’re Chad’s little sister. I kind of looked at it as my job to do so. It’s what I’ve always done. When we were little, it was fun, and in middle school, we—”
“Kissed,” I state. “We kissed in middle school, and then you ignored me for months unless it was to torment me. But that has nothing to do with the present. You’re trying to cage me in, but I’m a grown woman. Not a child.”
“I’m supposed to protect you.”
“Protect me from what?”
“From guys like me!” His voice is deep and gruff and filled with potent emotion.
I let out a huff of a laugh, shaking my head. “Are you being serious right now?”
He turns to face me fully, and I hold my breath with how serious his face is as he confesses, “On that dance floor, nothing was supposed to happen. You ran that chick away, and I just wanted to dance. Show whoever was watching that I hadn’t hurt you the way you said I did. Then …” He pauses and closes his eyes. “It’s like it wasn’t you I was dancing with.”
My mouth falls open. “Please tell me you’re kidding because this is not making me feel better one bit.”
“Fuck.” He rubs his eyes. “This is coming out all wrong. I didn’t mean it that way. I meant, I liked it. All of it. I fucking liked it a lot. I can’t think about anything but you and the way your eyes lit up when you were watching porn or how your body moves when you’re practicing yoga. That damn banana stunt nearly killed me, and at night, when I’m alone, I hear her sultry voice calling out my name. I dream about you, and when I wake up, I remember it was you and …” He stares up at the roof of the car and curses loudly. “Fuck!”
“And what, Wes?”
“I shouldn’t feel that way about you.”
“Why not?”
He rolls his head my way and gives me an are you kidding me expression. “Chad would have my balls, for one thing. I’m his best friend.”
“And I’m an adult woman who can make my own decisions about who I sleep with.”
He bites his knuckle. “This isn’t something that should be happening between us.”
“Then, why am I here right now?”
He reaches out his hand and wraps his fingers around my pinkie finger, barely touching me but sending waves of electricity flying through me.
“Because no matter how hard I try to stay away, no matter how many extra workouts I do, trying to rid you from my mind, you won’t go away.”
“Go away?” I ask, totally offended. “How dare you—”
I don’t finish my sentence.
Wes’s lips crash into mine, and I’m lost in a sea of lust, frustration, satisfaction, and desire, all wrapped in one passionate kiss. When he reaches his hands up to cup either side of my head, holding me there, I lose all control.
My hands slide up his chest, and his move down to my sides, creeping under my sweater and tank top, gripping my waist. Our tongues dance and slide against each other in a motion that’s a thousand years old yet very new to us.
The emotions we’ve been holding back are felt in the way we breathe each other’s air.
The anger we have is expelled in the thrashing of tongues and the way he sucks on the skin of my collarbone.
The pent-up desire is poured out as I climb over the gear shift and straddle his lap, settling onto him and feeling the massive girth straining against his jeans.
“Damn, Stacey. You have no idea what you do to me,” he breathes against my neck.
“You said you dream of me. Was this what I was doing?”
My hands are in his hair as his caress my ass while I roll my hips in tandem with the fierce kissing.
“Fuck yes. But you’re better in the flesh. So much better that my dream is going to be a nightmare.”
“Why’s that?” I ask as I let my hands roam under his shirt and caress the firm muscle beneath.
“Because none of the things I want to do to you are going to get me into heaven.” His hand lands on the crotch of my jeans, and I let out a hiss, pleading with him to touch me.
I rock my hips, rubbing myself against him as he lifts my sweater.
“Why are you wearing so many fucking clothes?”
“Bad planning,” I say as he lifts my tank top and lowers my bra, taking my breasts in his hands and rubbing his thumbs over the pert nipples.
“Fuck this,” he declares. “I’m definitely going to hell.”
Wes’s mouth is on my breast, sucking on the sensitive orb and sending me reeling from his mouth on my tender skin. I continue to roll my body, loving the way his cock is growing inside his jeans and wanting so much more.
I lower my hands to my button and undo my jeans, bringing down the zipper and lifting my hips, hoping he gets the hint.
He growls against my skin as his hands graze down my belly and slide into my snug jeans. If we were anywhere else, I’d rip them off, but there’s no room, and I’m too impatient.