Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
NOW
T he first thought that comes to mind as my lips press against Wells is how warm he is, even in the middle of this mid-December Texan downpour. I can feel heat radiating off his skin like he’s made of the sun, and I want to sink further into him.
The second thought is how this kiss is like nothing I’ve ever felt. It takes him only seconds to reach up and cup my face in his strong hands, tilting my head back for better access. I may have started this kiss, but he’s making it his own, deepening it to something near-feral and wicked with desire.
When I slide my tongue against his, a low grunt escapes from his throat, and I love the sound. I lose all thoughts, my only focus becoming a one-tracked need to get him to make it again. His fingers wind into my hair as he grips the back of my neck and pulls me in closer—as if we could possibly get any closer—and when I arch my chest against his he makes the sound again, a rough and guttural groan straight from his lizard brain. It sets me on fire. Burns through me like kerosene.
A loud crash of thunder sounds from overhead, and Wells pulls away from me. He rests his forehead against mine as his breath fans across my neck. “We need to get out of here,” he slurs, his focus moving from my mouth to my shoulder to my cheek.
I swallow down the need to kiss him again, forcing myself to nod. And then I’m caught completely off guard when he bends low and wraps his arms around my legs, hauling me over his shoulder as he stands. “Put me down!” I shriek.
“Not a chance!” he calls out, and then he starts the trek up the steep and muddy hill, carrying me like a ragdoll.
I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the last few minutes. The sudden rain, the heated confessions, kissing Wells Bennett.
And it was a good kiss.
Halfway up the hill he slips, but he quickly catches his balance as he squeezes against my thighs. Like his instinct is to keep me bound to him, no matter the cost. At the top, I’m still breathless and laughing, but he still doesn’t put me back down. He marches straight for where his truck is parked in the grassy meadow.
When I’m settled and shivering in the passenger seat, he climbs in, shaking the rain from the ends of his hair beneath his hat. “About time that thing got washed,” I say, nodding at the dirt-smudged Wild Coyote logo on the front.
He smiles, and it nearly wrecks me. His eyes are blown wide with need, and it’s all it takes for me to slide my right leg over his thighs and straddle him.
“Layla,” he warns, as if I didn’t already propel us over this line down by the river. His eyes drop to my mouth as I settle over his lap, and I love the way it makes me feel: bold and brave and alive . Somewhere deep inside my mind, I know how bad this is. I know there’s a very real possibility that we’ll both regret it the second we burst through the haze and drive back into town. But for now, surrounded by the outskirts of his family ranch where no one can find us, all I want is to savor the moment. To let it wash over me and bathe me in something new.
“What, cowboy?” I ask. There’s a dare in my tone and I watch as he registers it, fascinated as it sparks a new wave of hunger in his molten brown eyes.
“Fuck,” he murmurs. “You’re so damn pretty like this.” And this time he kisses me.
His hands grip my waist as he pulls me closer until there’s no space between us and I can feel the way he shakes. I melt into him, my hands frantic as they take him in. Our rain-soaked shirts stick together, fabric dragging against fabric until he lifts mine over my head and drops it on the truck floor with a wet slap. His fingers trace along the edges of my bra strap as I reach for the hem of his shirt, eager to get to the warmth of his skin, and when I get it off, I can’t help the moan that escapes as my need winds tight within me.
He’s hard beneath his jeans, and I grind into him until he’s sputtering for air. “Layla,” he pleads, his hands like a vise as he holds me still. His eyes track along my body, along the shape of my breasts beneath lavender cotton, and he shakes his head. “We can’t.”
I move my mouth to his jaw, sucking and licking the column of his throat. “Why not?”
A whimper escapes his mouth when I bite into his skin, and he shifts his hips up and into me. A reward , I think, for earning that sound. But then he’s shaking his head again, gently moving me down his legs and away from where I want to touch him most. “Layla,” he says again, firmer this time.
I sigh through a shaky exhale, and when I look at him, I know this is over.
“We can’t,” he insists. “Not like this.”
Not like this. The words hit me all at once. I’m desperate to know when and how we can do this because god—I want to. “Okay,” I whisper. “Yeah, we can . . . wait? I think.” My brain feels frazzled, but my body is sharp with focus. The pressure of his mouth against my skin is on repeat, like a scratch on an old record. The heat in his eyes, his hands still wrapped tightly around my waist. I don’t want it to stop.
It doesn’t even scare me. Not like it seems to be scaring him.
He nods. And then his face stills. “Or not,” he adds. “You know . . . if this—” He clears his throat. “If you change your mind.”
I watch his mouth as they shape the words, but they lose meaning in the air between us. Rain continues to belt down against the roof, and with the sudden lack of movement, of delicious friction between our bodies, a chill rattles through me.
“Shit,” Wells says on an exhale, swiping his thumb against the waistband of my shorts. “You’re freezing.”
I shake my head. “No, I’m good.” But goosebumps give me away, and he gently scoots me off of his lap so he can start the truck and crank on the heat.
“Here.” He reaches for my shirt from the footwell and hands it to me, his cheeks flushing pink as his eyes drop to my bra before quickly jumping back up to meet mine. “It’s soaked . . . Hold it against the vent and let it dry a little before you put it back on.”
I nod, my mouth growing dry as the reality of what just happened settles over me. I open my shirt and spread it over the side vent, holding it in place as Wells backs away from the trees.
He drives all the way back into town without a shirt on, and I swear I do my best not to look. But he catches me sneaking glances, and an unrestrained grin spreads over his face. It lights me up all over again.
“Do you need to go home?” he asks. I look at the time on his dash and see it’s only four-thirty—still early enough to stay with Wells. The fact that he’s even asking makes me think he’s hoping I can.
“No,” I say softly. “Not yet.”
“Can I take you to the cabin?” His voice is even, but my heart somersaults all the same. When I don’t answer, he turns to face me. “Not . . . not for that. I promise.” His jaw jumps and his throat works around a hard swallow. I’ve never seen him so . . . affected. “I just want to make sure you warm up.”
A flush crawls up my neck, and I wonder if he can see it. “Yes.”
He nods, brown eyes assessing me. “You’re okay?”
I can’t help but smile. I’m more than okay.
I don’t know how to explain how I feel right now, sitting shotgun in Wells’s truck with my shirt off. But after weeks of hell and so much heartbreak, I finally feel alive again.
“I’m okay,” I confirm, focusing back on the vent and my wet shirt.
Flames crack in the stone fireplace, warming the chill from my bones as Wells comes in from the kitchen with two mugs in hand. “I hope you like hot chocolate,” he says as he sets one mug down on the table in front of me.
I’m sitting in the exact spot of the cozy green couch I was on that first night here, after finding out about Jason’s affair with Emma. Only weeks have passed since then, yet it feels like a lifetime ago. I remember looking at Wells that night like he was a stranger, like everything in the last six years of my life had been a lie. But as I watch shadows from the light of the fire dance across his face, I realize that somewhere along the way he’s become my lifeline. I’m anchored to his attention and care in ways that I know I shouldn’t be . . . But I can’t get enough.
“I love it.” I smile, reaching for the mug. He sits down beside me as I take a long sip, relishing the heat it brings me. Factually , I know my body is cold. My still-damp shirt hangs heavily from my shoulders after I refused to take a dry one from him, and my skin is prickled with goosebumps that flare every time I shift in my seat.
Still, I don’t really feel it. My heart and mind are busy replaying everything that’s happened in the last hour, careful to slow down in all the right places. I chance a look at him and find his gaze lost somewhere in the hearth.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “For taking me with you today. For . . . all of it.” For pulling me out of a weeks-long spiral with a kiss so perfect I felt like I could breathe again.
His eyes blaze as they catch mine. But then he seems to turn in on himself, picking up the mug and tracing the lip. “I’m on the losing end of my restraint, Layla—I always have been when it comes to you. I’ve tried to fight it for so long and never seem to get it right. But all of this is a terrible idea. I never should have let it happen.”
I feel my stomach drop. He . . . he regrets it?
“We can’t do that again.”
I jump up to my feet, the need to put space between us becoming all-consuming. I march across the living room toward the fireplace and whip back around to face him. “You tell me how much you want me . . . that you’ve wanted me all this time . And now you’re going to push me away?”
He stares at me with sad eyes and says nothing.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Wells?” I shout.
“What’s wrong with me?” he retorts. “I fell for my best friend’s girl. That’s what’s wrong with me.” His jaw jumps as he sets his mug down. “Jason may have made mistakes, but he doesn’t deserve this.”
My eyes burn with tears. “He was fucking another girl for weeks, Wells. Maybe months! And she wasn’t even the first. He didn’t care about me, not like I needed him to. He only ever cared about himself.”
“That’s not true.”
An incredulous laugh bursts out of my mouth. “Are you kidding me? He didn’t care! He gave me pretty lies about a perfect future and promised to take care of me and love me forever. But he wouldn’t have hurt me like that if he did.”
“Layla, goddammit—I know you don’t want this,” he roars, pushing up to his feet. Red-hot anger mars his beautiful face, and I revel in it. “I may have too many feelings for a girl who’s never been mine, but you’ve never looked at me like you looked at him. You’re just sad and angry about what he was doing, and my feelings for you are a perfect opportunity for you to get your revenge.”
I scoff. “ Revenge ? He’s dead, Wells!” I can’t help the tears that stream down my face, and I’m so angry that I’m crying again. “He’s not here for me to bask in the glory of some pathetic revenge plan.”
“I just have a hard time believing this would actually mean anything to you,” he says, and it’s like a knife to the heart.
“I guess you don’t know me, then.”
His face twists in frustration. “You think I don’t know you?”
I don’t know how long I stare at him, but it’s long enough to lose all sense of time and space. “Wells,” I breathe out, my hands shaking with the restraint not to reach out and touch him.
“I fucking know you, Layla. I know you by heart.”
My thoughts slow down, growing sticky against the heat of his gaze.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” he says, quietly now as he moves closer to me. “Tell me this isn’t just about revenge for you.”
“Maybe in the beginning . . . I didn’t understand you. You were moody and quiet and you sure made it obvious that you didn’t want me around. I thought you hated me, and I was worried about it—worried that Jason might dump the girl who didn’t get along with his best friend.
“But then . . . you just kept showing up, Wells. You were there for me along the edges of so many moments that it made it hard to ignore. You saw me even when Jason didn’t—and I never knew how to explain it, other than that I hoped it meant we were becoming real friends. I wanted to be friends with you.
“And then you almost kissed me after Jason broke up with me, and I woke up the next morning realizing I wished you had .”
He stills, his eyes pinning me in place. “You remember that?”
I frown. “I might have had too much to drink, but I remember everything.”
His eyes flash as understanding sinks in. “You wanted me to kiss you?”
“Yes,” I confirm. “But then Jason and I got back together, and I refocused on my relationship with him. And you went back to being moody and distant again. I figured it was all a fluke.”
“That’s why I grew distant. Why I’ve still tried to be.” Wells’s jaw tightens, and on his face is a look so wild and starved it twists inside my stomach. “You sure knew how to fucking make me suffer, sunshine,” he says quietly. And then he closes the distance between us and crashes his lips against mine.
He kisses me like he can’t survive without me for another second. The muscles in his forearm dance beneath honeyed skin as he steadies his grip on me. It’s clear he can’t contain himself any better than I can.
“I’ve loved you every day since the first time I laid eyes on you, Layla Hayes,” he murmurs into my lips. “And I hated you for it, too, because I loved Jason—” He squeezes his eyes shut—the words too painful, too unimaginable to let out. But then his eyes open and I watch as they sharpen on me. “I loved Jason, Layla. He was my best friend, my brother. I loved him with my whole heart. And I hated you because I loved you more .”
A sob rips through me, guttural and loud. This is all too much—it’s too damn much to bear. I don’t know how to move forward from here.
He presses me against the wall and kisses me again, and my body ignites at the feel of it. But my mind is too clouded by everything he’s said, and I know we’re both hanging on by a mere thread. It’d be a good idea to take a second to breathe. To come back to this conversation after a bit of a reset.
“I think you should take me home,” I say as I wind my fingers through his hair, tugging lightly on the strands.
He nods, swiping a knuckle against my jaw. “Yeah,” he rasps. “That’s a good idea.”
“But I’m not done talking about this,” I say. “Okay?”
He lets out a low hum and steps back. “Okay,” he says. And then, after blowing out a breath, he tilts his head toward the cabin’s door. “Let’s go.”