Every Kiss (22 page)

A bright red flush blooms onto her cheeks. “As long as we
both reach the finish line, I’m happy.”

“That’s not how it should be.” Wes winks at me. He’s trying
hard to embarrass her. “I’m a fan of the Indy 500, myself. You just make one
round after another, going so long you have to stop to rehydrate and refuel
before ‘hitting’ it again. Pun intended, of course.”

“So I’ve heard.” Makenna purses her lips and turns to me.
She’s practically glowing like a stoplight now. “You should probably think
about coming in and getting ready. We’re leaving for dinner in just over an
hour.”

Wes starts to push a few more of her buttons, but I smack
him to shut him up. “I’ll gather up all of our stuff and be right in.”

“This.” She points to both of us. “I like it. Damn, I love
being right.” She spins around and practically prances back inside.

I groan, grabbing my towel as I stand to shake the sand off
of it. “And I have a feeling she won’t let us forget it either.”

“OKAY, CAL . . . PICK your poison.
Make it something good because you’ll probably always remember the first
alcoholic drink you were able to buy on your own.”

I peer at her over the wine list. “It’s just a drink,
Makenna. I’m not naming my first born.”

The waitress moves to the other side of the booth to take
everyone else’s orders after I order a glass of moscato, awarding me an
approving nod from Makenna. She and Shane both order soda, and I’m not at all
surprised when Wes orders whiskey and cola. Is it sad that the smell of whiskey
on him does bad, bad things to me?

The restaurant we chose is a dine-in nightclub of sorts, and
we had to be extra careful in choosing a place that you can get into if you are
eighteen. Makenna has several months before she’s twenty-one, and because she
can’t drink, Shane isn’t either. They may not be ordering drinks tonight, but
the silver lining for me is that I know for sure I’ll have a sober driver to
get me home. Not that I plan to get trashed or anything, but after a few
glasses of wine, I certainly couldn’t drive. Especially after seeing the size
of the wine glass the waitress just brought me.

The dining area circles all the way around the large space.
The cozy high-back booths give a little separation from the other diners, but
the dance floor is only a few steps away, allowing a full view of the entire
floor. We were told that the music would start in an hour or so, so we’ll
actually have some time to eat and chat before the music drowns us out.

“I can barely see you over there.” Makenna giggles. “I’ve
never been in a restaurant this dark before. I won’t be able to see what I’m
eating.”

“Honey, you’ve never been in a club before. They’re all like
this.”

“Seriously,” Wes elbows me. “You’ve never dragged her into
that club just off campus?”

“I’ve tried.” That’s all I can manage to say with him
looking at me like that. He looks delicious as always in his black V-neck tee
and low-slung jeans, but something about the soft lighting and the atmosphere
in this place only amplifies his appeal. It could be the fact that I can’t stop
thinking about where I’ve seen him in dim light before—his bed.

“So what you’re saying is that you’ve never been dancing in
a club, right?” Wes is stunned. “How is that even possible? From what the
hostess told me while we were waiting for our table, it gets kinda wild in here
after eleven or so. You’re getting all kinds of cherries popped lately, aren’t
you kid?”

Shane bumps his shoulder against hers when she slumps into
her seat, mortified that Wes said that so loudly. “I’m happy to be your first
everything. When the music starts, we’re going out there.” He puts a finger
over her lips when she starts to protest. “Don’t even try to tell me that one
slow dance at my mom’s banquet counts. This is totally different. I promise
you’ll love it.”

Three glasses of wine later, despite the fact that we’ve
eaten dinner, I’m feeling quite warm and fuzzy. My lips are even feeling a
little tingly, so I know I’d better slow down a little. Which is good in
theory, I guess. But when the music starts, it does strange things to me. I
want to let loose, have a few more drinks, and dance my ass off. This all goes
back to my favorite two things about parties—dancing and kissing. I can handle
the dancing part, but making out with a guy might be a little more trouble than
it’s worth.

Wes has been staring at me all night long, and more than
once, I’ve caught him looking at my mouth as if he could devour it right then
and there. I bet that he’s had enough to drink to be convinced to kiss me, but
at what cost? Do I really want a repeat of the night of the banquet? Okay, a
repeat of the sex would be amazing, but I’m thinking about the morning after
when he ran away. I really don’t want to feel that again. It sucked.

Shane drags Makenna out of the booth and onto the dance
floor as soon as the first thumps of bass pound into the air. I can’t wait to
see this. I’m interested to see if she actually dances like she does with me at
home, or if she freezes. It could go either way, but I’m leaning toward her freezing.

“Why don’t you go out there and show her how it’s done?” Wes
challenges.

“Wesley Baxter, you’re just trying to get me out there, so
you can watch me shake my ass.”

He throws his hands up. “Guilty as charged. What if I go out
with you?”

“You dance?” Oh, I can’t wait to see this.

“Maybe you should just find out,” he says, sliding all the
way around to the other side of the booth to get out. He holds out a hand to
me. “Come on.”

I watch Makenna as I approach her, and bless her heart,
she’s trying to get into it, but she’s too worried about other people watching
her. She looks relieved to see me, so I bump my hip against hers. “Just like
we’re at home. Don’t worry about anyone else.”

I’m no hypocrite. I really try to dance like there’s no one
else there, but when Wes moves right up against my back and starts grinding on
me, I can’t help getting a little caught up in that. I don’t hold anything
back. I let the music tell me how to move, and within a few minutes, I find
myself moving in perfect rhythm with Wes. His hands slide down my sides to grip
my hips, pulling me tight against him. I throw both arms back over my shoulders
to link my fingers around the back of his neck, and he surprises me by pressing
his face into the crook of my neck, trailing his tongue up from the hollow part
and stopping just below my ear, kissing lightly.

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?”

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.”