Wyatt’s hand inches up my back, finally tangling into the tousled hair at the nape of my neck. “I was out of line last night.” He tilts my head back a little. A shot of pleasure pours through me and I make a soft sound. He must take it for a sound of disgust because he drags his other hand through his own hair. “I f**king overreacted, Ky. I’ve never done that.”
“No,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut. “You haven’t.”
“It’s getting closer—us getting back to Los Angeles. And this is the first time I’ve ever believed you when you said you’re through.”
I panic. Because I don’t want to hear him do the same. It makes me feel like a strong hand is clenching my heart, stopping it from beating just right. I smooth my hand up his chest, to the hollow of his tattooed throat.
“Don’t do that,” I whisper. He starts to say something else, but I move my other hand into his jeans and wrap it around his cock. It’s a coward move, but I never said I wasn’t opposed to taking the easy way out. “Don’t,” I say once more, gripping him firmly.
I feel him go hard slowly beneath my touch. He slumps forward, placing his palm flat on the bathroom mirror behind me. “You’re killing me.”
Acknowledging what he’s just said with a stiff nod, I stroke my hand up and down his length, pressing my thumb to the top of his shaft.
“Open your legs,” he breathes into my ear.
My chest is rising and falling heavily, and I want him—Oh God, I want him—but I press my lips together. “No.”
“I need to touch your pus—” I slide my fingers from his neck to his lips.
“No.”
His long legs go weak, and I use this opportunity to loosen their grip on my own legs. I place my feet on either side of him, nudging his jeans and boxers down his hips. When I pull him closer to me by enclosing his body with my legs, he sucks in a harsh breath.
“Fuck.” His fingertips find their way back to my hair. “Your ni**les are hard. And I know you’re wet. Lie all you want, Ky, but I can see that shit in your eyes. You can’t tell me you don’t want me to touch you.”
I curl the rest of my fingers around his length, and the fact that both of my hands are on his cock, stroking and squeezing, causes him to tremble.
“No, I can’t tell you that. Because I am wet. I do want you to touch me,” I say breathlessly, and he groans, his lip piercing teasing my ear. “But now’s not the time.”
He leans back, the smile on his face a mixture of pleasure and pain, and shakes his head. “Of course it is, beautiful. It’s always the time.”
But he respects my wishes. He doesn’t try to touch me as I guide him to an orgasm. He buries his mouth against my neck, releasing a low, animalistic sound into my skin. As he starts to untangle his fingers from my hair and back away, I jerk him back to me, skimming my hands over his muscular shoulders. “Kiss me.”
His tongue parts mine, thrusting into my mouth, punishing me for not allowing him to touch me. He sucks on my bottom lip, my tongue, but it doesn’t bother me. In fact, it’s addictive. When he draws back, I’m slow to open my eyes.
He’s grinning, but the look in his eyes drops a brick into my stomach. It’s the look of bitter defeat. “We’ve made a mess,” he says, and I don’t fail to catch the double meaning.
“Yeah,” I say softly. “We have.”
CHAPTER TEN
I wait until Wyatt leaves my room, and I’ve taken a long shower that would deplete all of the hot water back in my Los Angeles apartment, to try and wake Heidi. By then I’ve managed to calm my nerves—the trembling in my legs has stopped, and I’m articulate enough to understand. I can look my best friend in the eye without her becoming suspicious to what Wyatt and I did a mere fifteen feet away from her while she slept.
Heidi doesn’t take the disturbance well. I spend a solid ten minutes trying to coax her out of bed. Eventually, I look up a Lady Gaga song on my phone. Fifteen seconds into Love Game, and Heidi jolts up, with her hair flying everywhere and bloodshot eyes. “That’s so f**ked up, Ky.”
“We’re leaving.”
She fumbles under her pillow for her phone. As soon as she checks the time, her expression goes blank. “You’re kidding.”
“You can sleep on the way there,” I promise. “Trust me, you’ll be fine.”
But a few minutes later, as she packs her belongings, she’s still irritable and drowsy. “This is bullshit.” She grabs her outfit from last night from the back of the chair and tosses it onto the heap of clothing in her suitcase. “They’re not playing in New Mexico until when? Tomorrow night?”
I roll a pair of my jeans into a compact bundle and slide them neatly into my own bag. “Albuquerque is nearly a thousand miles away from here, babe.” With traffic and stops, it’s an easy fourteen hours that we’ll spend inside of the Suburban. Thinking of it in hours suddenly makes my ass sore, and I grimace.
“I should probably call my parents and let them know we’ll be in Phoenix Saturday morning, huh?” She straddles her bag between her long, slim legs, squeezes it tightly together, and tugs at the zipper. If my phone weren’t on the other side of the room, sitting on top of the mini-fridge, I would record this. Finally, the zipper gives, and Heidi stumbles back, glaring at it. “I hate packing”
“What you just did was disturbing on so many levels.” I rise from my spot on the floor and check my appearance one final time in the mirror. The effect that Wyatt has on me is obvious, at least in my opinion, as I study my reflection. I’m able to look past the circles beneath my brown, almond-shaped eyes to see the flush in my cheeks, how my lips seem fuller from kissing him earlier.