Текст книги "Truth in Watercolors"

Автор книги: Kimberly Rose

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“My lady.” I dipped in a bow allowing Capri to walk through the door because I was a gentleman, and gentlemen fucking bowed. “What do ya think?” I asked following into the shop behind her.

I’d wanted to introduce her to Rocco since she told me she couldn’t see colors. I wasn’t gonna lie, that shit shocked me. Not that she was colorblind, but I could tell how much it bothered her, and how insecure it left her. That wasn’t gonna fly with me. No way should a girl like Capri feel bad about herself because she couldn’t see red. Red wasn’t even all that. Screw red. That was why I wanted her to meet Rocco. So she could see that she could still be proud of being an artist.

“It’s really clean,” she said surprised and I stood a little taller. That compliment on my place of employment shot straight to my heart. “And I like all the artwork on the walls.” She pointed to the sketches covering the walls.

“Nice touch, huh?” I asked unable to wipe the grin off my face. I’d drawn most of them, and of course, Capri recognized what a badass I was. This was something I’d like to see from her one day also, to be able to display her art with her pride overruling her fear.

“Nice breasts.” She nodded up to one of the sketches closest to the ceiling. Crap, yeah, I did that one, too. Abort artwork, abort.

“Come say hi to the guys.” I put my hand on her back ushering her away from the waiting area and through the saloon door that led to the floor. It took the guys a few seconds to realize that we were there, and then the buzzing died down.

“Marilyn, what on Earth is that girl still hanging around with you for?” Blue shouted, pushing his glasses up onto his head. He peeled off his gloves, wiped his hands, tapping his customer on the shoulder to let him know they would take a break. “When ya gonna realize you’re too pretty for this guy.” He smiled and winked at Capri.

“He’s quite pretty himself,” she chimed back, leading Blue into a smoky chuckle.

“You are a gorgeous bitch, Marilyn,” Trace yelled from the back where he’d finished wiping down his customer and wrapping her arm.

“Hi, Trace.” Capri waved her fingers over at the oaf.

“Hey, doll.” He winked back. All this bullshit winking.

“Rocco here yet?” I asked checking the time on the clock.

“Should be,” Blue mumbled, shoving a cigarette between his lips. “Smoke.” He nodded and shuffled toward the hallway that led to the back entrance of the shop.

“I get to meet Rocco now?” Capri pinched her eyebrows up at me.

“Sure do, I wanted to make sure you met him.” I smiled at her expression and fought the urge to take her into my arms.

“You tryin’ to set me up or something?” she asked with a smirk and folded her arms over her chest leaning toward me.

“Aw, hell no.” I reached out for her and pulled her toward me, wrapping my arms around her body.

“Oh that’s good then ‘cause I’m already seeing someone,” she said smiling playfully up at me with her chin resting against my chest.

“You are?” I said giving into her game. “He must be a dashing fella.”

“Dashing?” She giggled. “That’s one way to describe him, I guess.”

“Psh, more like a dickhead,” Trace said from his station. I flipped him off, not taking my eyes off Capri. Who took his eyes off the most beautiful woman in his world? Not this lucky son of a bitch.

“Well, how would you describe him?” I asked leaning my head into her neck. I sucked in a deep breath and sighed into her.

“Charming.”

“Hmm.” That sounded right. God, she smelled liked a strawberry.

“Chicken choker!” Trace yelled, and I ignored him. What idiot would remove his face from his woman’s fruity neck? This homie was leaving his face buried wherever his lady let him be.

“Kind.” I shook my head into her neck. The way I wanted to fuck her right now on my shiny counter was not so kind. For her or the counter.

“Keister beater!” Trace yelled again making Capri tense in my arms.

“Ignore him,” I whispered against her skin and laid a soft kiss at her collarbone. She softened immediately.

“He’s pretty hot,” she said, tilting her head and giving me the full length of her neck. I immediately brushed my nose from the base of it up to her ear. Strawberry. I opened my mouth and sucked the skin below her ear into my mouth, swiping my tongue across it slowly. I felt the vibration of her quiet moan through my lips.

“Que paso cabron!” Capri bounced out of my arms leaving me cold, empty, and saluting Rocco at my waist. I ran my hands through my hair and grunted out my frustration. “At ease, bro.” Rocco cackled as he passed through the saloon doors and made his way straight to Capri.

“Muneca. Why haven’t we met yet?” Rocco reached his hand out to Capri. She hesitantly placed hers in his and darted her eyes from his other arm and his face. He placed a kiss on her hand.

“This is Capri,” I said to Rocco. “We talked about her watching you do a small piece the other day.” In two strides, I was next to her again and wrapped my arm around her, pulling her into my side.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go get set up. My customer should be here any minute. Pull up a chair, muneca.” He nodded to his station and left for the back room to get some supplies.

“Wes,” Capri hissed lowly. “He doesn’t, he’s missing, he lost his—”

“He doesn’t have an arm,” I said laughing at how cute she was not to say the obvious offensively.

“What’s going on?” she asked turning to me so she could look up into my eyes. She was always doing that. Looking right at me and sometimes through me. I’d spent most of my life never being seen at all, and this girl saw me inside and out. She might not know about all she saw, but the way her eyes softened when they looked into mine, I knew she could tell it was there.

“Rocco was in the Marines. Lost his left arm, along with his hearing on the same side, when a roadside bomb hit his vehicle.” Capri gasped and brought both hands to her mouth. I reached behind her and rubbed her back. “When he was medically discharged, he moved back home and apprenticed at his cousin’s shop in La Mesa.”

“He tattoos with one arm?” she asked more in awe than disbelief.

“He does, well, with one arm and a claw. You’ll see it when he comes back out.”

“A claw?” Her eyes widened.

“Yeah,” I laughed. “You’d be surprised how much the ladies like the claw.”

“And you want me to watch him tattoo with his claw,” she stated.

“I do.” I brought my hand that was still on her back around to her hip and squeezed her gently. “I want you to see that even without his arm, he still set out to do what he’d always wanted to do. He’s had to make some adjustments and find his own unique style and way of tattooing, but he did it. Now he’s one of the best artists in San Diego.”

“Okay,” she said, nodding and looking around the shop.

“Okay?” I asked because quite honestly she could have been pissed off. She could have told me to mind my own business and marched her cute little self right out of this joint. She didn’t though because she was my girl, and my girl was awesome.

“Yeah.” She gave me that smile. That she only shared with me. Where her nose crinkled up a bit and her eyes went all wide and bright. “I mean, who am I to complain about being colorblind when he has a claw?”

“Bitches love the claw. You coming, muneca?” Rocco came around the corner to prep his station.

“Be right there,” she called to him and then turned to me. “Thank you,” she said and stood on her toes to place a soft kiss on my lips. I wasn’t having that, though. I caught her in my arms and pressed her lips open with mine. I slid my tongue and kissed my girl how a lady deserved to be kissed because I was a fucking gentleman.

“Why don’t you just piss on her?” I heard Trace’s voice shout at me. I lifted one arm from Capri, wrapping her more tightly with the other, to flip him off and continued to kiss her. “He’s an animal,” Trace howled into the shop.

Capri giggled against my lips and pulled herself away. She smiled at me and turned around toward Rocco’s station, but I caught her hand in mine and pulled her back into me for a quick, but no less dicktastic, kiss. I couldn’t get enough of her.

“Stop maulin’ the girl in my shop,” Blue gruffed. I pulled away this time and gave her a peck on the nose before sending her off to Rocco with a tap on that ass. “Oh, hell,” he groaned shuffling past me. “You’re done for, Marilyn.”

I kept myself busy setting up my own station for my only client of the day. At first, I helicoptered around Capri and Rocco making sure he didn’t cross any lines. After both he and Capri told me to get lost, I’d left to pout in my chair on the other side of the room.

As I watched them over the last half hour, it was obvious that Rocco was all business and attentive to Capri, answering all of her questions. Rocco was usually a silent tattooer, and the fact that he was stepping out of his comfort zone to show my girl how to grab her talent by the balls reminded me of what a good guy he was.

My client today was scheduled for a one-hour session, so this had to be a tiny tat. It would leave me with plenty of time to get Capri out of here. Maybe take her to a nice dinner or for a walk down along the Cove. Shit, listen to myself? Planning dates instead of fucks.

I did want to, though. I did want to fuck her. Maybe I shouldn’t use the word fuck with Capri. It would be more. So much more, like her. She was like the best surprise you thought you never wanted. Like when a stripper jumped out of cake. You’d think you wouldn’t want that, it was too old school, but when it happened? It was amazing. It was a stripper, and it was cake. Maybe I shouldn’t think of strippers while I was thinking about Capri.

Thing was. I’d never wanted this. This enigma that made me want to bare my heart to keep hers. She caught me by the back of the shirt before I even knew she was behind me. No, it definitely wouldn’t be just fucking with her. Maybe more like fucking passionately. I wanted to fuck her passionately after a nice dinner and walk by the water.

“Marilyn. Client’s here.” Blue’s voice shook me from my plans. I looked up and waved over a girl about my age. As she came through the saloon doors, I snuck a peek at Capri, who was watching me with a smirk so I winked at her. Then she rolled her eyes. So I made a heart with my fingers for her because I was a romantic.

I focused back on my customer who approached me sticking a hand out to introduce herself. “I’m Raquel.” She winced a smile at me, but I didn’t take it personal. I’d seen that smile a lot from customers before we get started. Nerves.

“Wes.” I winced myself at the strength in her handshake. “So what is it you were looking to get today?” I asked Raquel.

“I’d like something like this,” she said unfolding a paper she had in her hands. I took the paper and studied it.

“You got it. Where do you want this heart?” I asked reaching for my tape to hang up her image on the wall next to me for a reference.

“On my wrist,” she said rubbing her fingers across one of the most painful spots for a tat. “And, can you like, make it look empty?”

“Empty?” I cocked my head. No comprende.

“Yeah. Like a hole.” Damn. This had a story behind it. I made it my motto to never ask, though. Tattoos could be incredibly personal, and unless they told me, I kept my nosy self out of their business.

“I can do that.” I smiled at her to let her know her empty heart was in good hands. “I’ll shade it, and add some dimension to it, so it looks more like a hole punched into your skin.”

“Yes. Perfect.” She nearly smiled at me.

“Let’s do it,” I said and tapped the chair to let her know it was time to plop down and get to work. I let Raquel know I was about to start, just before I placed the needle on her skin. Her muscles were tight at first, but as I began the outline, she loosened up and handled it like a champ.

“I’m about to start in on the shading so you’ll feel more discomfort,” I told her, wiping the area clean with Bactine. I pushed back to my toolbox to change needles. “Is this your first tattoo?” I asked her.

“It is. I’ve always wanted to get something like this done,” she said tilting her wrist back and forth to check out the lines.

“Gotta say; I’ve done a lot of hearts but never an empty one.” I cringed the second the words bolted from my mouth. “Shit, that came out wrong. What I meant was that this is a nice change of pace. Artistically, I mean. Not nice that your heart is empty.” Oh fuck, someone get me a pail. The word vomit was spewin’. “I mean, not your heart, but this heart, this one on your wrist.” I shook my head and pushed myself back toward her. “Fuck it. Let’s get back to work.” That was when she laughed.

Well, laugh might be exaggerating a bit. It was more like the jolt of the start to a laugh, but I’d take it. “It’s okay,” she assured me, but I shook my head at my pathetic self and put the needle on her skin again.

She winced. Then she spoke. “It’s for my brother.” I pulled the needle from her skin and pretended to dip it into the ink, but really, I was giving her a chance to tell her story. “He and I were in the foster care system together.” Fuck. There went my iron. Crashing to the floor.

“Marilyn, what the hell’s goin’ on over there?” Blue grumbled hunched over his customer’s back.

“Shit. Sorry. I’m sorry. Let me clean up real quick and get you a clean set of needles,” I told Raquel, pushing back to my toolbox. “Dropped my nutsack,” I shouted back at Blue. “Shit’s always weighing me down.” I wiped the sweat from my hand on my jeans and turned around grinning at the shop. Blue was chuckling, Trace held his finger up flipping me off, Rocco was shaking his head and mumbling something that was probably in Spanish, and Capri, she watched me.

There went my cocky grin. I shifted my eyes away to the machine quickly, then back. She was still watching me. Then, to my shoes, they were awesome today, Cobalt blue Chucks. Then back to Capri. Still watching. Holy mother of Ludacris, it was hot in here. I gripped the bottom of my shirt and began to pull it over my head.

“Keep your shirt on, Marilyn. Jesus.” Oh, yeah.

“Sorry, Bluebell.” I let go of the hem and looked back at Capri. Still watching. I was freakin’ out.

I did my best to ignore the way Capri was looking at me and started in on the shading for Raquel’s tat, praying to any god that was willing to listen to me that she wouldn’t say any more.

“So, yeah, this is for him.” Just as I thought, I was not on any god’s nice list. I did my best to listen to her without hearing what she was saying. I was usually pretty good at it. In fact, I was sure I could give a demonstration on the art of listening but not hearing. For some reason, though, my hearing capabilities were over-performing today.

“When we were eight, he was adopted. I wasn’t.” My foot fell off the pedal for a quick sec, but I recovered. “At first his new family tried to keep in contact with me, but with so many new addresses and new phone numbers, eventually they lost touch.” I nodded and sang “Drive” silently in my head.

“We got back in touch recently,” she said.

“That’s great.” Finally, something good.

“I guess.” Oh c’mon, for the love of gods who wouldn’t hear me. “He tries to help me out a lot when I’m behind on rent or come up short on my half of the bar tab, but I don’t know. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, it’s just—”

“You don’t want any help.” I filled in the blank. Almost done. I needed to hurry this thing up and get some fresh air.

“Exactly. And he has kids and a wife. I want to be able to do things for them, too, but I can’t. I can barely take care of myself let alone anybody else.” Finished. I pulled the needle away from her swollen skin and looked up at Capri. Not watching.

“We’re done,” I said spraying on another layer of Bactine before giving her a chance to look at the piece.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered giving the fresh tat a look. My job here was done. I danced on my toes, itching to get out of the shop, but I had told Raquel just one thing before she left.

“For what it’s worth, I hope you find a way to fill that heart someday, and when you do, come back here so I can reinvent it for you.”

“Thank you,” she said touching her fingertips to the heart. “That’s a delightful idea. A reinvented heart.” She looked up and smiled widely at me. “Thank you again.”

I nodded. I fidgeted. I grabbed my keys. I ran for the door.

The bells jingled behind me when I hit the parking lot. Fresh air. I inhaled deeply and tossed my head to the sky soaking in the moisture in the air.

“Stop running away, Wes.” Capri’s voice softened the command, but I couldn’t look at her. It was the concern I’d seen earlier in the shop that I didn’t want to see now.

“Whatever it is that makes you up and run. Don’t do it. Face it.” I could hear her walking closer to me.

“It’s not that easy,” I said letting my chin fall to my chest.

“I imagine it’s not, but I know that whatever it is, you can look at it head on and make it your bitch.” My. Fuckin’. Girl.

I turned around laughing to see her. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. You’re kind of awesome.” She came to stand before me and looked up at me with those big brown eyes.

“You are, too. That’s why I know whatever is hidden inside of you doesn’t stand a chance.”

I had to touch her. I traced my hand down her face and cupped her jaw in my palm. “I’ve been running for so long, I’m not sure I know how to slow down.”

Her hand came up to cover mine. “Let me help you then. I’ll even trip you.” She grinned, enjoying that thought a little too much.

Could I? I wanted to. I wanted to let Capri in and to share the burdens of my past with her. I thought I’d already started to. It was just so scary. Too scary.

A guy like me wouldn’t ever be what a girl like her deserved. She had so much going for her in her life, and she’d only just now started to live it. I might just be a stop on her way through. But, if I wasn’t and she wanted to be with me, would I ever amount to what she deserved? Not likely.

“Okay, but promise me one thing, Capri.” I traced the line of her lips with my thumb, talk now and kiss later. “Promise me you won’t fall in love with me.”

She flinched away from me. “You don’t want me to love you?”

“You can’t.” I dropped my head and stared at the stark white tip of my shoe. “I want to be the man you deserve, but what if I can’t?” There was the truth. I wanted so badly to be not only whom Capri wanted but also be the man she would be proud of.

“Why don’t you let me be the one to decide what I deserve?” she said, and I raised an eyebrow to that. She put her hands up in defense. “I know, I know. I may not have the best track record, but there’s a reason for that. They weren’t what I deserved because they weren’t you.”

My eyes snapped to hers, and she stared at my nostrils flaring. She meant it.

“Can I show you something?” I asked her because if she was hell bent on thinking I would be enough, then she needed to know this before she made up her mind.

“Put this on, C. It’s cold up here.” Wes pulled his hoodie from behind my seat and handed it to me. When he asked if he could show me something, the top of Mount Soledad was not what I expected.

“Hop on.” Wes patted the hood of his precious car. Was he crazy? Before I had a chance to make sure he really wanted my rear end on it, he scooped me up in his arms and set me down on it.

“You okay? Need a blanket or anything?” he asked zipping his jacket up. I only smiled. How could he think I didn’t deserve him?

“What are you smiling about?” he asked looking over himself.

“Come sit with me.” I patted the warm spot on the hood next to me. “Tell me what we’re doing up here.”

He slid up next to me, but not as close as I would have liked. I fought the need to touch him and gave him the space he seemed to need. When I chased him out of the shop tonight, I had no idea how things would go. All I knew was something in the tattoo he’d just done hit him deep. I saw it in the way my cool and confident Wes fumbled with his machine, and I saw it in his wide, panicked eyes.

When he ran, the only thing on my mind was that I needed to follow. On my way out of the shop, Blue said something to me I thought about the entire drive up the mountain. He told me that Wes had been waiting a long time for me and that finding me had him scared shitless.

“See that hospital over there?” Wes pointed inland. I nodded. “That’s where I was born, to two people who never should have had children.” I wanted to turn to Wes for this, but I felt like keeping my attention away from him would make him more comfortable, so I stared at the hospital.

“What happened with your dad?” I asked the question I’d always been curious about. For as long as I knew Wes, I’d never heard anything about his dad.

“When I was three, my dad was arrested for dealing.”

“Drugs?” I said louder than I intended and whipped my head to him.

“Drugs.” He nodded and kept his eyes trained on the hospital. “Not too far from that is where I lived with my mom up until she was arrested for possession. Of drugs.” His eyes met mine briefly in the smallest smirk I’d ever seen on Wes’ face. “I don’t remember much from that age, but I guess she used heavily and left me with the neighbor most of the time. She tried to get the county to leave me with her the day they took me away, but since she wasn’t a legal guardian, they couldn’t.”

“They took you away? From where?” I asked unable to take my eyes off of him.

“From my mom. She was declared unfit, and I was removed from the home and placed in foster care.”

I tried to catch the audible gasp I let out with my hands, but I’d missed. “Foster care? For how long?”

“Forever.”

“What?” I didn’t understand because when I met him, he was living with his mom. “But your mom?”

“Brenda isn’t my mom. My mom is somewhere out there.” He held his hand out into the clear night sky. “Probably high as a kite. Brenda was the last of my foster parents. I lived with her until I aged out at eighteen.”

I had so many questions. This was so much to hear, and I didn’t know where to begin. Wes took over the silence and continued talking.

“That was the first home I remember.” Wes pointed to an area closer to the coast. “The O’Donnels. They were an older couple, more like grandparents. They took real good care of me, though. I remember them asking me questions all the time. Questions about my favorite things to do, how my day was, if I was making any new friends, what did I want from the grocery store. It was nice.”

“The next house, right down there, wasn’t so nice. Miss Cindy had too many of us. She had two vans just to drive us around town, one she drove and one her daughter drove. I had a place to sleep, but I tucked myself in. I was always fed, but no one cared if I ate it or not. There were a lot of other kids to play with, but no one to talk to.”

“There’s an older neighborhood hidden in that patch of trees.” Wes pointed back toward the hospital again. “The couple I lived with there shouldn’t have ever been approved as foster parents.”

“What do you mean?” I asked him. His eyes met mine again. His brows furrowed and then turned downward at the corners.

“Dusty and Lena just weren’t very nice to me,” he said softly.

“What did they do to you?” I asked, feeling the warmth of anger in my chest.

“Enough that I was removed,” he said then pulled his eyes from mine. I crossed my arms over my stomach and pinched my eyes closed. I held back my tears, wanting to be strong for Wes.

“The next house I was at was great,” he said with a smile in his voice. “It was a Christian couple who had two kids my age. They were really kind. They sent me to a therapist who helped me get through a lot of the stuff I’d been dealing with. Actually, I contacted him when I turned eighteen and still visit him every so often.

“That was the family who really showed me how a family should be. And yours,” he said touching me for the first time when he reached out to pull my hands from where they were wrapped tightly around my stomach.

“The last house I lived in was Brenda’s. She wasn’t awful but not great, either. She was just…there. I’m most thankful for being sent to her though because that’s how I met Blue, August, and you.” He pulled my hand to his mouth and gave it a soft kiss.

There was no hiding the tears that I felt cascading down my face. Simply put, I was heartbroken. Wes had been in foster care nearly his whole life. I had no idea. No idea.

“Does anyone besides Blue know?” I asked him sniffling and gripping his hand in mine. I didn’t want him to pull it away just yet.

He nodded his head. “Ridge, his mom. Ridge’s social worker is the same one I had. He’s still considered in foster care, but his parents have been going through the process of adopting him.”

“That’s great.” I smiled, happy for Ridge but aching for Wes. Why wasn’t he adopted? As if hearing my question, he answered for me.

“My dad never gave up his rights to me. He convinced the system that he was trying to get his shit together for me over and over again. That’s why I could never be adopted. The Christian family, the Davison’s, they wanted to.” He took a slow deep breath then let go of my hand and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a folded piece of paper.

Carefully and so gently, he pulled it apart one soft fold at a time. He held the paper out to me, and it wobbled in the space between us. It wasn’t windy out.

I took the paper and stared. Holy crap.

“My mermaid. Your marlin. Wes, what is this?”

“It’s a sketch my dad did. One of the only good memories I have of him. Hell, one of the only memories I have of him was the day he drew this picture and told me the story of the marlin and the mermaid.”

“He’s who you get your talent from,” I observed, tracing the outline of the sketch with my finger. It really did resemble Wes’ own artwork, embodying his knack for realism mixed in with an ethereal quality I’d only seen done by him.

“I guess so.” Wes looked out into the distance toward the ocean. “My passion for it is my own, though.”

“Of course,” I said, understanding his need to separate himself from his dad.

“So what’s the story that goes with this?” I asked looking toward the blackened ocean.

“The marlin was a brave and strong fish. Time and time again, he was caught by fishermen but wrestled himself free of the nets.”

“Kind of like Hemingway,” I said

A dry laugh escaped from him. “The only book I actually read in high school. Took me forever.”

“So where does the mermaid come in?” I asked noticing how exact this sketch was to the mermaid Wes had painted on me.

“Well, the marlin was a stubborn fucker and liked to mess with the fishermen. Each time he saw a boat approach, he put on a show for the fishermen, doing swan dives and belly flops.”

“Wow.” I giggled softly, and Wes peered at me out of the corner of his eye with a small grin.

“Until he was caught again.” He looked back into the darkness. “This time the marlin was over it, and rather than fighting for his freedom, he let go and sunk into the net.

“He thought he was dreaming when he saw her swimming up toward him through the depths of the ocean. Her golden hair mixing in swirls and smears with the water.” I smiled at his description of the mermaid. I loved when this side of Wes slipped through, the side that forgot who he was trying to be, and revealed the sublime center of his soul.

“The mermaid approached the marlin and worked quickly to untie the knots of the net. The ropes slipped from the marlin, and he watched the net sink to the bottom of the ocean.”

“She set him free.” I smiled at the sketch and passed it back to Wes. He folded it up carefully and stuffed it back into the deepest corner of his pocket.

“She did.” He turned toward me, pulling my hands into his. “Capri, you’re perfect.”

“Wes,” I laughed, “I’m so far from perfect.”

“To me you are, though. You deserve the same.” He looked up into my eyes, stilling the breath in my chest. “And I want to be him. I want to be the guy you deserve.” His thumbs ran over the skin of my hand quickly. I squeezed to steady their movement.

“You already are. You are him.” Wes’ chest rose and fell in a mix of stuttered breaths. “I want you, Wes.” His chest rose and fell slowly.

“Here. Right now. I want you,” I repeated, and he perked up.

“Oh! You want me, want me?” His voice rose excitedly. I nodded unable to contain my smile, but then his body sagged.

“You deserve more than the back of my car.”

“The hood will do nicely, too,” I said, patting the cooled metal. Wes threw his head back and groaned.

“Wes,” I said touching the side of his prickled face with my hand and bringing his eyes back to mine. “This car is a piece of you and is more yours than any apartment or any bed. It’s you. I deserve you. I want you.”

He watched me closely. If I hadn’t become familiar with the little quirks that signal his innermost thoughts, I would have thought he was about to turn me down. The subtle flare of his nostrils, though, and the rapid dilation of his pupils told me that he was rising to my challenge. His hands darted to my face and gripped my jaw with his hands. He took one slow, steady, and heavy breath. Then he kissed me. Deep.

I felt him all the way from the drag of our lips to the burying of his heart into my own chest. Holding his face in my hand, I clutched him toward me, wanting all of him as close as possible.

Wes slid from the hood of the car, maintaining his steady devour of my lips. I felt his knees push on my own until my legs fell open. His hands anchored to my thighs, and he yanked me down, solidly pinning himself between my legs. I pulled my lips away in a gasp at the divine pressure.

Wes pulled the skin below my ear into his mouth sucking, and then released with a nip of his teeth. “You taste so damn good,” he hummed into my neck between sucks and delicate bites. The combination of the smooth warmth of his tongue and the dull sting of his teeth bred a wanting throb in me.

I wrapped my arm around his waist and grabbed the hem of his shirt. My fingers desperately clung to the fabric and I lifted my hips to him. A puff of cool air burst across my collarbone when he hissed. Then he pushed back, and it was my turn to hiss. I lifted my hips toward him again, but he pulled away. “Hang in there, baby. I wanna play first.”