Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
WYATT
We get another round of drinks. And then another one. Until we’re all buzzing pretty hard, Kayla and Suzi the hardest out of all of us since they got a head start. It’s past midnight, the music is blaring, the conversations are roaring, and all I can think about is getting Rachel alone.
I’m fixated on her. Fascinated by her. That’s not just the beer talking either.
She’s remained by my side for most of the night, leaning into me every few minutes, apologizing about it at first, but eventually she stopped.
Like she’s meaning to do it. I keep reaching across her to say something to my brother, my arm brushing hers.
My hand going to her lower back and pulling her to me when someone almost bumps into her.
Trying to protect her. Feeling protective.
It’s a feeling I’m not used to experiencing for a woman I’m not related to. This hasn’t happened to me in a long time.
Would Rachel agree to ditch everyone and go back to my car? And what are we going to do once I’ve got her there—have sex again?
I like the idea. I like it a lot. But will she think that’s all I want from her? It’s not. I mean, I want it, but I’m also enjoying spending time with her. She’s funny, easy to talk to, and even easier to look at for long periods of time.
Shit, I’ve got it bad. And it’s not just the physical draw, though that’s a big part of it. The chemistry between us is powerful, but I also want to know more about her. Ask her more questions. Get her alone and just listen to her sweet voice for a little while.
Get her alone and do a few other things with her too . . .
I glance at the spot on the table near where my brother is standing and see nothing but glasses of water or soda in front of him. I send him a hard look, and he finally picks up on it, frowning at me from across the table.
“What’s your problem?”
“You been drinking?” I indicate the glasses in front of him with a chin flick. They might not be full of water, and there might be something extra mixed with the soda.
“Not at all. I told you I was going to be the designated driver tonight.” Nate smiles at me. Paige smiles up at him, her body swaying in his direction, and he glances down at her. “You okay there, Paigey?”
She nods, her mouth curved in a closed-lip smile, and she sways toward him again. “You’re cute.”
“You’re drunk.” He bops her nose with his index finger, and she scowls at him, batting his hand away.
I look over at Rachel, who’s watching me closely, heat flickering in her eyes. Is that heat? Yeah, I recognize that look, and I’m feeling the same. I try to take a drink from my beer bottle but realize it’s empty, and frustration ripples through me. “I need another one.”
“Slow down there, partner. I think you’ve had enough to drink for the evening,” says Nate, who is never a party pooper.
But he’s being one tonight.
“Shit,” I mutter, grabbing one of my empties and bringing it to my lips, sipping the dregs of beer left behind. It’s a little warm and tastes awful. “Let’s go.”
“No way,” Paige practically shouts, hooking her arm through Nate’s and clinging tight like she’s never going to let him go. I note the panicked, almost-comical expression on his face, but I don’t laugh. “We’re having so much fun.”
Nate sends me a look like he wants to murder me, and I tear my gaze from his, fighting a war within myself. Should I do it? Or should I keep my mouth shut?
“Whatever.” I glance over at Rachel again. Fuck it. “Wanna sneak off somewhere?”
“Yes.” She doesn’t even hesitate.
“Where are you going?” Nate asks, nosy as ever.
“None of your business.” I rest my hand at the small of Rachel’s back and start to steer her away from the table.
“You can’t drive,” Nate calls out as we start walking. “And I have the keys.”
“Good for you.” I flip him the bird from behind my back, making the rest of the table laugh, with the exception of Nate. This must be what it feels like to him to have me harping on his ass all the time. “See you guys later.”
They make a bunch of ooooh noises as we walk away, but I ignore them.
So does Rachel. We move through the crowded bar, and I nod and smile at the people I know, which is pretty much everyone.
They send us curious glances. Some of them even look like they might want to stop us and chat, but hell no. I’m a determined man.
As in, I’m determined to escape this place and get this woman alone. I didn’t kiss her enough the first time, and I’m dying for another taste of her lips.
“Come on.” She takes my hand and leads us down a short hallway, pulls me into the one-room bathroom, and slams the door shut, turning the lock so hard the click of it sliding into place echoes in the mostly empty room.
I glance around the tiny bathroom, impressed with how clean it is. “Is this the ladies’ room?”
“No, it’s for whoever.” She smiles, the sight of it blowing a few sockets in my brain, making it hard to think. I must look like a confused mess because her smile fades and she tilts her head to the side. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve turned into a lightweight,” I tell her, my voice dead serious. “Or your smile just put me under a spell.”
That spellbinding smile is slow and confident. It’s the smile of a woman who knows exactly what she’s doing. “I wore the dress on purpose to distract you. Are you telling me it worked?”
“Yes, ma’am, it worked like a goddamned charm.
” I move forward, my hands landing on her slender hips as I walk her backward until she’s pressed against the door.
This simple touch, being this close to her, has my heart pumping, my blood running hot.
My hands itch to touch her all over, and I can’t remember the last time I felt this eager to be alone with a woman.
A woman whose name I actually know, which—damn, I sound like an asshole.
But the last few women I’ve hooked up with?
I don’t remember their names. I barely remember their faces.
“I’m an asshole.” The warning comes out of me with no context. “I just thought I should tell you.”
She bursts out laughing. “Honestly, Wyatt? You’re not that bad.”
I frown. “I’m not?”
“Uh-uh.” She’s still smiling, shaking her head like I amuse her.
“You’re really fucking beautiful.” The words fall from my lips like I can’t contain them. I would never say this sober.
Would I?
“You really think so?” Her voice is a low whisper, and I can barely hear her, thanks to the loud music just beyond the closed bathroom door.
I shift closer, crowding her so she has no choice but to press her back even more firmly against the door, my body blocking her from escaping. I rest my hand against her cheek, cupping the side of her face, my gaze searching. Taking in every one of her delicate features. “Yeah. Beautiful.”
Reaching down, I grab her hand, pressing my palm to hers, our fingers tangling.
Her smile fades, her eyes go wider, and I feel it.
A spark. I press my palm more firmly against hers, and another spark ignites, my skin burning.
I lift my gaze to find she’s watching me, her lips parted, her eyes glossy. “You feel that?”
She moves her head in the barest nod. “What are we doing, Wyatt?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“What happened between us. Last time.” She inclines her head. “Was only supposed to be a one-time thing.”
My frown deepens. “But you didn’t leave. I’m not going to pretend you don’t exist every time I run into you, Rachel.”
“Oh.” She averts her head for a moment, like she needs to think about what I said. “Do you even like me?”
“You don’t think I like you?” The woman is blind. She has to be.
“You weren’t very nice to me the first time we met.”
“You didn’t catch me at my best moment.”
Her smile is small. “You didn’t see me at my best moment either.”
“I don’t know about that.” I recall the first time we met with nostalgic fondness. “You had that silky little robe on.”
Her cheeks turn the faintest shade of pink. “I’m lucky I tossed it on after I climbed out of the tub. Or else I would’ve run out of the house naked. Talk about humiliating.”
“It wasn’t so bad.” My entire body hums at the idea of seeing Rachel totally naked.
“So you’re telling me you don’t hate me.”
Pausing, I arch an eyebrow. “Do I act like I hate you?”
She slowly shakes her head, her smile growing. As does mine. “I’m glad you don’t hate me.”
“I don’t normally pin women I don’t like against a bathroom door,” I tell her.
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Do you have lots of experience pinning women against bathroom doors?”
“Not really.” I’m rarely this honest with any woman I’ve been with. I’d rather play it cool, or even better, not say much at all.
“I might’ve been alone with a man in a bathroom once or—”
“Rachel.” My voice, everything inside of me, is terribly serious.
“What?” She’s frowning, that little crease appearing in between her eyebrows, and I reach for her, giving in to my urges, gently rubbing my finger up and down the tiny wrinkle until it disappears.
“The last thing I want to talk about is the men you’ve been with.
” I wouldn’t describe myself as lacking self-confidence, but this woman comes from another world entirely, and what if I don’t measure up to what she’s used to?
It’s fine for a one-night stand to mess around with me, but here we are again, alone in the bathroom.
And she’s Miss Rich Girl who hangs out with celebrities, while I live in the same small town I grew up in and drive a fire engine for a living.
It’s a great job. People consider me a hero, but I’d bet a million dollars I don’t have that she’s never been with a guy like me before.
Her smile turns sly, and she nods. “Noted.” A pause. “What do you want to talk about then?”
I lean in, removing my hand from her face so I can press it against the door, caging her in. I can smell her breath as it wafts across my face, and I tilt my head a little, mentally noting how perfect our faces, our mouths line up. “I don’t want to talk at all,” I murmur.
Just before I settle my lips on hers.