Chase Me If You Can(72)
His playfulness is contagious. I tap my chin like this is a difficult question and widen my eyes innocently. “The grocery store is only ten minutes away. You need anything before we head back out? I think I could grab some water, maybe a few apple—”
My giggles die when Wes rolls me under him on the couch, his hands skimming over my body. “There’s something about you in a dress that makes me a little feral,” he admits in a low rasp. “You don’t actually want to go to the grocery store, right?”
I shake my head, reaching up to drape my arms around his neck and pull him closer. We kiss slowly at first, his weight pinning me to the couch, his scent surrounding me. Neither of us rushes it. The kisses gradually deepen from sensual to something hotter, soft caresses that grow into my nails digging into his shoulder and his fingers dancing down my thigh.
“I bet I can make you come before the pizza gets here,” Wes says in a low rumble while gathering fistfuls of my dress with one hand. “Wanna find out?”
My breath catches. The unsatisfied ache between my legs screams Yes, please! but I’m not in the mood to get interrupted by a delivery driver. “They could be here soon,” I hedge, glancing at my watch. It’s already been twenty minutes.
“I better be fast, then.” Wes kisses me again, though his hand doesn’t move until I mutter Fuck it under my breath and pull him down by the back of his neck.
It could be that I’ve been dying to get his hands on me again, or it could simply be that he’s that good, but he winds me up with near expert precision. Less than ten minutes later, he shoves me off a cliff, my chest heaving and pleasure rolling through me in wave after wave.
Breathing hard, I almost miss the sound of a phone buzzing on the ottoman. Wes licks his fingers clean with a wicked grin, radiating smug satisfaction. I’m about to yank him back down when his phone buzzes again.
He glances at the screen with a huffed laugh. “That’ll be the pizza,” he says, oh-so-pleased and a little breathless as he helps me pull my dress down and sit up. “Told you I could do it.”
“You’ll notice I didn’t contradict you.” I point down the hall to the bathroom with shaky fingers. “You answer the door. I’m going to clean up the mess you made.”
And pretend my legs aren’t wobbly with little spasms of pleasure still making my muscles twitch.
“You liked it.” Wes glances down and smirks at the very obvious erection straining his sweats. “But, uh, about the door? Slight problem.”
I give him a firm stroke over his pants. “I’m not seeing any problems.”
He presses against my hand despite his choked laughter. “You want me to scar the driver?”
“Good thing we ordered contactless,” I remind him before removing my hand and taking a step toward the bathroom. “Maybe after we eat we can see what other sorts of bets you want to make.”
“I don’t need to win bets when I have you,” Wes says with the sort of sincerity that tightens my throat in a heartbeat. Then he grins. “Even if you are an uncivilized menace who doesn’t understand the majesty of olives on pizza.”
* * *
After we finish eating, Wes heads into the basement to throw laundry into the dryer while I clean up from dinner. Anticipation turns my hands clumsy. By unspoken agreement, neither of us tried to move things any further than fooling around, despite sharing a hotel room most nights. Not when we were both so exhausted we could barely keep our eyes open.
Tonight we have all the time in the world. The quick and dirty orgasm Wes gave me on the couch did nothing to cool my lust; if anything, it was an appetizer.
The fact that he’s been at half-mast ever since doesn’t help either.
My eyes dart down the dim hallway toward my bedroom. There’s still so much we haven’t talked about. After looms larger and larger the closer we get to the end of my chase season, an enormous question mark looming on the horizon. Physical intimacy with Wes is already intense. I already care too much. It’s already going to wreck me if this was all a game to him. Is it really smart to tie another knot in our emotional threads right now?
I still haven’t asked him about the cars again, now that we’re here. Now that the choice isn’t one he’s making at the risk of being stranded hundreds of miles from home.
Wes finds me in the kitchen nursing a glass of water, my free hand braced on the counter. Nervous energy tightens my grip on the glass. It’ll be fine. I want this. I want him. He wants me.
I’m still terrified of taking down this last wall between us.
Wes stops in front of me, a slight furrow between his brows. He reaches out to gently tuck a strand of loose hair behind my ear. “What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours, darlin’?”
“It’s nothing.” I summon a smile, toss back the last of my water, and set the glass in the sink. He hasn’t done anything to deserve my doubts. I’ve been in and out of therapy enough to understand that I trust the familiarity of chaos in a way I don’t trust peace. I was fine when we were on the couch earlier. There’s no need to ruin the evening with my anxieties. “Ready for bed?”
“Not until you tell me what’s got you all twisted up,” he says from behind me. He’s close enough that I can practically feel the heat of him, but he doesn’t touch me. As though I’m a feral cat he doesn’t want to spook.