Chapter 18
This time I hold on tight when Wes brushes his hand against mine, intertwining my fingers with his.
I’m floating as we walk toward the music, arms swaying.
Soon we are so close to the club that I can feel the bass vibrating through me.
There’s a short line outside, and while normally I would prefer curling up on a couch and watching a cheesy rom-com, I could go for more dancing, or any other excuse to be as close to him as physically possible.
We flash our IDs to the bouncer and push through the doors, where we’re instantly caught up in a swarm of bodies. It’s hot and sticky and thrumming with energy.
Wes takes the lead and orders us both drinks at the packed bar, shouting over all the noise. He hands me one of those potent vodka-and-orange-liquor mixed drinks and soon we’re dancing, drinks in hand.
The song changes to a slower trance song and the people around us stop their high-energy dancing. We set our drinks down and Wes wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me in. My hips are pressed right against him and my body warms.
Wes dips his head down, resting his chin on my cheek.
The wine from dinner has made me light and happy as we sway from side to side.
I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or my new European confidence or all of it combined, but when Wes tilts his face to mine, I make up for the space between our mouths and crush my lips into his as strobing lights flash and swirl around us.
It’s everything I’ve been waiting for. Wes kisses back like he’s been waiting for this too.
He tastes like peppermint and vodka. His hands are everywhere—hungry, frantic—clasping me closer.
It’s an eternity before we come up for air.
It’s been weeks and weeks since I’ve really been alone with him, since my lips have been on his.
Once we break apart, I notice that a small bubble of space has cleared around and I feel the faintest blush encroach on my cheeks.
That was so worth the wait. Kissing Wes has always been fireworks, but this is explosions.
When the song changes and the beat picks up, Wes’s hands are still all over me, rubbing warmth into my lower back until my entire body is burning with want.
We start kissing again, and I gently tug on his lower lip with my teeth.
He lets out a deep, throaty groan, letting me know I’m sending him over the edge.
Wes grabs me by the arm, and without my even realizing where we’re going, he’s brought me into a corner.
There’s a door there and he’s pushing through it, and soon we are in an abandoned hallway, unable to get our hands or our mouths off each other.
Wes hoists me up and gently leans me against the wall for stability.
I wrap my legs around his waist and his hips press into me until I can feel all of him, all the evidence of his want.
A pocket of heat slowly starts rising up my thighs and we’re both taking ragged breaths.
My hand is raking through his hair, pulling it, as he kisses a trail down my neck.
His mouth reaches my collarbone and then all I can see are stars.
Wes pulls back, searching my eyes. His own are dark, desiring. “God, you’re so sexy.”
He’s never talked to me like this before. Like a woman. Like he has to have me, now, or he may not survive. It makes me feel confident in what I say next. “Wes, I want you. All of you.”
In the moment, I’m fully prepared to do anything and everything Wes wants to in this nightclub hallway.
Well, until we get busted.
Suddenly a bulky and intimidating security guard is spewing at us in angry Italian. He grabs the back of Wes’s shirt and drags him toward the exit of the club. Before we know it, Wes and I have been officially kicked out for PDA and trespassing.
We tumble through the doors onto the street, laughing hysterically.
It doesn’t derail us. It’s not long before we pick right back up where we left off.
Wes grabs my hand and tugs me into him, like he can’t wait even one more second before devouring me.
And then we are kissing again, he’s parting my lips with his tongue as his hands are skimming over me like he’s trying to memorize every curve on my body.
I run my fingers inside the waistline of his pants.
He responds by sliding his hand up the front of my dress inch by inch until he’s fully cupping my breast. I arc my hips into him.
“Come home with me.” Wes slumps, breathing heavy into my ear. The way he says those words, there’s no way of misinterpreting what he means.
“Yes,” I say. But then I pull back, remembering, and take in a breath. “Wait, what about your friends?”
Wes runs a hand through his hair, letting the strands flop sideways. “They’re all out, at an overnight boat party. Won’t be back until lunch tomorrow. It’s kind of perfect, no?”
So Wes had skipped out on what sounds like a pretty raging time to take me on a date. If I had any doubts at all, they are erased right then and there—I had wanted proof I would be a priority, and now I have it.
“Yes, I want to come home with you.”