Every Kiss (7 page)

I take the bottle from his hand, and he starts to protest.
But I’m rewarded with a wicked grin when I press the bottle to my lips and take
a mouthful of the smooth liquid. The whiskey may have an initial hint of
sweetness to it, but the bitter burn coating my throat as it slides down makes
my eyes water a little. “Thinking straight is usually overrated.” And I drink
again.

“I agree.” He takes the bottle back from me, raising it to his
mouth. When his tongue slips out to swirl around the opening—where my lips just
were—my breath catches in my throat. And as he finishes it off, I struggle to
exhale as the last drops slide from the neck of the bottle to his full lips.
“You want more?”

“Yes,” I croak, realizing
after
I answer that he
meant more to drink, not more of watching his mouth.

He steps out of the hot tub and grabs my towel, wrapping it
around his waist. “I’ll be right back.” I watch him walk up to the dark house
and stop to punch a code into a keypad above the doorknob. The door swings open
and the kitchen light floods from the oversized window, allowing me to easily
see him inside. He grabs items from the fridge and a couple of cabinets, giving
me the opportunity to admire the muscles in his back and arms bunching and
flexing with every movement. Then, the house goes dark again, just before he’s
pulling the door closed behind him.

“Have you eaten tonight?” He asks, approaching the iron
table next to the hot tub.

“Does a bowl of cookie dough count?”

He eyes me with an eyebrow raised. “Definitely not.” He rips
a sandwich in half and holds one side out to me. “Eat this.”

I watch him while I nibble on the corner of the sandwich.
It’s just turkey and swiss with some spicy mustard, but it’s surprisingly
delicious. On a wide tray, he has a couple of glasses, a full bottle of
whiskey, two cans of cola, and a bowl of ice. He mixes two drinks as expertly
as he did earlier today and hands one to me, but mine isn’t quite as strong as
his. I’m thankful.

He rejoins me, holding his sandwich out to bump mine in a
toast before taking a big bite of it. “To one hell of a birthday,” he jokes
around a mouthful.

“Is it still your birthday? I have no idea what time it is.”

“Yeah. About thirty minutes left of it. Thank God it’s
almost over. I think I’ll spend the next one in a foreign country where no one
can find me.”

I swallow the last bite and take a sip to wash it down. “You
mean your mother.”

He sighs. “Yeah.” Finishing his sandwich, too, he grabs his
drink and gulps it down. I’m immediately sorry I brought her up.

“Sorry.”

“It is what it is.” He refills his glass with straight
whiskey this time. I shouldn’t have opened my big mouth. I need to learn to
think before I speak.

Clearly needing to lighten the mood, I grab his glass and
set it on the side. “So, birthday boy . . . did you even get to blow out your
candles and make a wish?”

“No. I’ll go get you some of the cake if you want it
though.” He reaches across me for his glass, but I grab his wrist and hold onto
it until I turn to kneel in my seat, facing him.

“Come on. You have to make a birthday wish before time runs
out.” I make a fist but hold up my index finger. “Pretend this is your candle.
Go.”

“Callie, don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not. If you don’t make a birthday wish, I’ll make one
for you. And you’ll regret that when you wake up three inches shorter in the
morning. And I don’t mean your height.”

He snickers, and his eyes glimmer in the soft light. “I
wouldn’t want that. Three inches less would make me a chick.”

“I have no shame in admitting that I checked you out
earlier. I seriously doubt three inches would do much damage to your current
stock. I can double the wish if your pride needs a more serious hit.”

“I know you were looking.” He grins, angling his body toward
me. “But, fine. You win. I’ll make a wish.”

I hold my finger out between us again, and he closes his
eyes tight, really laying the dramatics on thick. When he opens them again, he
looks . . . smug. Devious. “There. Wish made.”

“Good.” I begin to drop my hand, but he grabs it.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what my wish was?”

“No. That’s against the rules. You’re not supposed to say or
it won’t come true. Everybody knows that.”

He pulls my arm until I’m against him, dragging me over
until I’m sitting sideways in his lap. “I’ll show you then.” Wes slides his
hands up my wet arms to my shoulders and coaxes me toward him until we’re
barely an inch apart.

My brain gave up the moment he said he’d show me, so I have
no reasonable thoughts of rejection forming. Just pure, yielding approval
fostered by my clearly intoxicated hormones. “Showing is always more fun than
telling, anyway,” I whisper against his lips.

He leans in and crushes his mouth to mine. One arm snakes
around my back, urging me closer, while one hand fists in my wet, tangled hair.
The scalding bubbles tickling at my sides are only a whisper of warmth compared
to the heat I feel from his bare skin against mine.

And that kiss? Oh, what a perfect oblivion it is. It’s a
kiss that makes me forget yesterday’s drama of breaking up with Tanner. A kiss
that forces away the memory of Jake, the sickening taste of beer, and the anger
left behind. A kiss that fills me with only gentle unspoken trust and a hint of
sweet whiskey.

I was wrong earlier.
This
is perfect serenity.

OH, WHAT KIND of hell is this?

The light streaming through the windows only amplifies the
pounding in my temples, and each footstep going down the stairs sounds more
like a sledge hammer connecting with the wall over my head. I want to crawl
under a rock somewhere and die. I knew it would be like this, but I continued
to drink anyway, like a great big idiot. And then, I only made things worse by
drinking whiskey with Wes.

Oh, yeah. Almost forgot about that. That’s probably why I
have this funky taste in my mouth. Deciding I’ll feel better if I clean myself
up a bit, I grab my bag and carefully head into the bathroom, lazily stripping
out of my clothes and laughing at myself when I notice I’m still wearing my
bikini.

Not caring to fight for the perfect temperature, I just aim
for somewhere in the neighborhood of boiling hot and step in, squealing as it
stings my skin and then groaning because it actually feels good. I lather my
hair and body and rinse until I’m clear of not only soap, but tension, too.
Even though my head is still pounding, I feel refreshed when I step out and
pull on my clean clothes—a pair of black running shorts and my slightly
wrinkled Breaking Benjamin t-shirt.

It takes a while to get my long hair free of tangles, but in
the end, I opt to pile it all on top of my head in a messy bun. I don’t have
the heart or motivation to deal with it today. And instead of putting my
contacts back in, I slip on my glasses. The lenses are narrow rectangles,
thickly framed in glossy espresso. I rarely wear them, but I always appreciate
how well they match the low lights in the bottom layers of my blonde hair.

After brushing my teeth—twice—I begin shoving everything
back into my bag, but I freeze when I see movement at my right. I turn toward
the open door, and the realization that it’s been open the entire time I’ve
been in here makes my head pound even more. Wes is in his bed. And looking
right at me.

“How long have you been awake?” I ask, praying to all that
is holy that it was
after
I got dressed.

“A while.” His sleepy voice is gravelly. Deep.

All I can do is stand here with my hands on my hips and gape
at him. What do I say to that?

“You know,” he begins, seemingly unfazed by my
embarrassment. “You looked nice yesterday, but I like this look better.”

“Now is not the time to joke around with me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Not joking. I’m dead serious. Your wild
hair, the glasses, the band shirt, bare feet . . . it looks good on you. I’m
not the type to say shit I don’t mean.”

If I didn’t know what to say before, I certainly don’t now.
And this is totally not like me at all. I’m never speechless. I never blush.
Why in the hell does he affect me like that?

“You’re a little testy this morning. Hangover?” He rolls
onto his back and rests his hands behind his head, leaving his chest exposed
and causing a little flutter in my stomach.

“Yes.” Finally, the real me decides to break out. “I have to
know. Did you see the whole show or did you wake up after I was dressed?”

He huffs out a little laugh and rolls back to his side,
folding the blankets back and standing. Inside my head, I’m screaming and
bouncing around like a psycho cheerleader. He’s a nude sleeper apparently. Wes
stands and walks into his closet, bare-assed and completely gorgeous, and he
yanks some jersey knit pants from the shelf and steps into them before walking
into the bathroom like it’s no big deal.

“Now we’re even, sweetheart.” He taps me on the nose and
turns to a cabinet on the wall, extracting a bottle of pain relievers and
pouring some into his hand. “Open.”

I’m too stunned at the moment to resist his orders, so I
drop my jaw, creating just enough of an opening for him to place to pills on my
tongue. Wes takes a paper cup from a dispenser, fills it with water, and hands
it to me. After I wash down the pills, he takes it back from me and does the
same.

“Thank you,” I say softly.

“Least I can do since it’s partly my fault.” Wes squeezes
toothpaste onto his brush and begins scrubbing his teeth. “And I figure I owe
you for the birthday wish come true,” he says with a mouth full of suds.

I slap my hands over my mouth. “Oh! I forgot you kissed me!”

He rinses his mouth and pats it dry. “That memorable, huh?
But don’t forget you kissed me back.”

Horror floods into me. “Please tell me that’s all I forgot.”

“I remember a few other things.”

I sink onto the side of the tub. My head is whirling, but I
don’t think it’s the hangover causing it. “Never in my life. I’ve never
forgotten sex before. I didn’t realize I was that drunk, though. Was I
horrible?”

“If we’d had sex, sweetheart, I’m damn sure you wouldn’t
forget it.” Wes kneels in front of me. “You fell asleep. I was holding you
after we kissed a while, and you passed smooth out. It wasn’t easy carrying you
with both of us wet, but I somehow got you in bed after fighting you to get
your t-shirt back on. I normally don’t stay overnight here, and I was going to
have someone drive me home, but I was afraid you’d get sick. So I left both
bathroom doors open, so I could hear if you got up, and I went to bed. That
just about sums it up.”

“Seriously? I think I would’ve rather had you tell me that
we had kinky sex in the pool house instead. I’m mortified that I was so drunk
that I passed out. It was your birthday, and you had to take care of me.”

Wes lifts my chin with the tip of his finger. “Didn’t say I
had
to. You were decent to me yesterday, even after I was an ass to you. You
called me out on my bullshit, and you didn’t let me wallow in my own misery. I
can use a friend like you. So I did what any good friend would do . . . I made
sure I was around to get you a trash can in case you needed to puke.”

Such a guy thing to say, but nevertheless, still very nice
of him. “Friend, huh?”

“I’m sorry if I led you on by kissing you, but that’s all I
can be. Not because of Allison . . . because of me. I don’t want to be in a
relationship. I’m not going to screw with some girl’s emotions and pretend that
my heart is in it. I can’t be that guy.”

“You didn’t lead me on, Wes. It was just a kiss.” A damn
good one. “But I appreciate your honesty, as I’m sure most women would. And I
just happen to be in the market for a new guy friend. My last one, Tanner,
decided to just use me for sex, so he got fired a couple of days ago.”

“Hmm, so I guess adding some benefits to our friendship is
out of the question?”

When I narrow my eyes at him, he laughs. “Kidding! Come on.”
He stands and pulls me up to my feet. “You’ll feel better after you eat
something. Trust me.”

I follow Wes downstairs, which I realize far too late that it
opens me up to some intense questioning later. Makenna’s lazy gaze widens after
watching me follow the half-naked Wes downstairs.

“Mornin’, Mak,” he calls out to her before turning into the
kitchen. “Where’s Shane?”

Before she can answer him, the back door swings wide open,
and Shane steps through with an empty trash can. His eyes sweep from Wes’ bare
chest, to me, and then back to Wes. “Hey, bro.”

Wes throws the standard guy nod in his direction. “Hey.
Everybody already gone?”

“Yeah, we had a bunch of people still passed out in the
living room when I got up, but they left a bit ago.”

“Good. I’ll help you clean up after breakfast. Want some
pancakes?”

Shane looks at him as if he’s speaking a different language.
“You don’t cook.”

“I cook all the time, asshole. Just not normally here.”

He throws his hands up and chuckles. “Okay, fine. Mak and I
will both have some. We haven’t eaten yet.”

“How about you, Callie? Pancakes okay?”

“Sure. Want some help?”

“Nah. I’ve got it under control. Why don’t you just relax until
those pain relievers kick in?”

“Okay.” I sink into the cushion next to Makenna, and I can
feel her looking at me.

While he cooks, Shane continues to make order of the chaos
in the house, and Makenna and I sit silently on the couch. She may not be saying
anything, but I can almost hear the questions racing through her mind right
now. She thinks she’s intuitive, but she’s rarely right. She’s notorious for
jumping to conclusions, and she’s practically bounding right now.

Makenna nudges my side. “Are you going to tell me what’s
going on?” she whispers.

“What do you mean?” Playing dumb drives her crazy, and I’m
happy to be her chauffeur.

“You know exactly what I mean!” She “whispers” loud enough
that both Shane and Wes whip their heads in our direction. She looks back at
the television until they go back to their own business.

“Callie, please. The suspense is killing me. First, you and
Wes were nowhere to be found for half the night. Then, he comes and finds me
after two in the morning to tell me that you passed out, but he had gotten you
safely in bed. Then, you walk down here together this morning, looking quite
pleased, I might add. Your hair is still damp from a shower, and he never walks
around me without a shirt on. He’s even concerned with you having a headache.
Not failing to mention, he’s suddenly Mr. Happy after being grumpy all day
yesterday. Did the two of you . . . you know . . .”

“God, Makenna, slow down. You’d make a horrible detective.”

Wes must have heard me because he looks at us with a grin.
I’m sure he knows what she thinks, and he seems awfully pleased with himself.

“Cal, I can’t be totally off base here. There are far too
many factors that seem to match my theory.”

I don’t say a word. I just get up and walk to the fridge and
pull out some juice and grab a glass from the cabinet. While I’m pouring, I
whisper to Wes. “Wanna have some fun?”

“With Makenna? I’m always game.”

“Play along.” I put the juice back in the fridge and lean
against the counter to take a long sip, making sure that Makenna can see me
looking up and down Wes’ body with a satisfied grin. Looking through my glass
as I drink, I can see her jaw drop. It’s killing me to keep a straight face. I
finish my drink, rinse my glass, and stand next to Wes, pretending to watch him
cook.

“Hmm . . . you’re just missing one thing. I like chocolate
chips in mine. You have any?”

“That does sound good. I think there’s still some left from
Makenna’s cookies yesterday. Pantry. Right side, I think.”

I find the chocolate chips easily and unfold the top of the
bag. Sprinkling them into my hand, I drop some into the batter he just poured
into the pan. There are still quite a few left, so I pop them into my mouth.
“Want some?” I ask Wes innocently.

“Sure.”

I jump up to sit on the counter by the stove and pour a few
more into my palm. Pinching one between my thumb and index finger, I lift it to
Wes’ parted lips, and he leans in, taking my fingers in his mouth and sucking
on them with a low hum.

“Mmm, more.” He slides the last pancake onto a plate and
turns the burner off. He surprises me by moving over to stand between my legs
and sliding his hands up my bare thighs. “You and chocolate are a good
combination.”

It wouldn’t take much for me to forget this isn’t for real,
that we’re only playing a trick on Makenna and Shane. I flash a shy smile,
bringing another chunk of chocolate to his lips. He grasps my wrist this time,
holding my hand still to suck my thumb deeper into his mouth. I hear Makenna’s
soft gasp from the living room, and it’s all I can do to hide my smile.

It falls away easily, though, when Wes picks up a single
chocolate chip and places it on the tip of his tongue. He raises his eyebrows
at me, daring me to take it to the next level.

Challenge accepted.

I reach around his waist to pull him close, and his hands
instinctively slide up to grip my hips. He sticks his tongue out a little
farther just before I close my lips around it, sucking off the softened
chocolate, probably a little too eagerly. A groan escapes his throat, and I
feel his fingers digging into my flesh. I’m sure he doesn’t realize it, but he
tastes damn good with chocolate, too.

I start to pull back, but one hand clamps around the back of
my neck and brings me back to him. This time, though, his mouth covers mine,
and I lose myself in it. For the second time now, he surprises me with a kiss.
A deep, passionate, soul-shaking kiss. The feeling of his smooth tongue
swirling against mine, exploring every corner of my mouth, is unsteadying.
Intoxicating. So so good.

“Oh . . . oh my . . . shit! You liar!” Makenna squeals,
jumping up from the couch. “Shane! You’re seeing this, right?!”

Wes releases me, stepping back to turn to Makenna. “What?”

She points at him, bouncing up and down like a moron. “You!
You and Callie!”

“We what, Mak?” I scrunch my eyebrows, trying to appear
confused.