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“Try my fruit cup.” She speared pieces of strawberry, blueberry and banana on her fork and held it out to him.
Wes accepted the offering, his gaze still on her, as if he was waiting for her to say something.
“So, about last night.” She dragged the words out slowly as she surveyed his expression.
“Last night was amazing.” He sipped his double espresso, his gaze locked with hers.
“It was,” Bree agreed, her cheeks stinging. She dropped her gaze as she sipped her decadent mocha cafe. “And I know you planned this spectacular trip for us, but I’d love it if we just…spent the day here in bed.”
She laughed nervously in response to his stunned expression. “Don’t worry, I’m not suggesting that this means anything. I’m just saying that I enjoyed our night together and I can’t think of a better way to spend the day.”
Wes set his mug on the table and shifted in his seat. He tilted his head slightly. “Sounds fantastic, but—”
“The rules we established last night still apply.” Bree forced a grin, burying the hurt that simmered in her chest. Last night hadn’t changed his feelings. “You made that crystal clear.”
It was unlike her to be so forward. She’d been the shy wallflower who spent most of her school dances hovering in the corner, hoping not to be noticed. But there was something about Wesley Adams that eased her inhibitions.
Something deeper brewed between them, whether Wes acknowledged it or not.
“Now that that’s all settled…” Bree strolled over to Wes and straddled his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck.
Wes chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Who knew that America’s volleyball sweetheart is a tempting seductress?”
“Not my usual MO.” She shrugged. “But then my life usually doesn’t leave much time for…this.”
“Then I guess that makes me special.” There was an uneasiness beneath his smile.
“Don’t flatter yourself, playboy.” She forced a grin. “I just happen to have some time on my hands.”
Wes laughed heartily. He seemed to relax for the first time since they’d begun this conversation. “Then I guess I’m just lucky. Like the night we met.”
Something about his statement—that he was lucky to have met her—warmed her chest and made her feel things she shouldn’t about Wesley Adams. Feelings she should best ignore.
She kissed him and concentrated on all of the things she should be feeling. His hardened shaft pressed to her sensitive clit. The tightening of her beaded nipples, pressed against the hard muscles of his chest. The graze of his whiskers against her skin. The heat rising between them and the electricity that danced along her spine.
Bree wrapped her long legs around his waist as Wes carried her to the bedroom. He made love to her, and she lost herself in the heat and passion between them. In all of the physical sensations that it was safe to allow herself to feel. While ignoring the nagging insistence that, regardless of what either of them claimed, this was the beginning of something more.
* * *
Wes strode back to bed and sipped his beer as he watched Brianna sleeping. He should’ve returned to his own room last night. Maintained some space between them. But he hadn’t. And since they’d chosen to stay another day, they’d only reserved one room. So tonight he had no room to which he could retreat.
He turned on the television with the volume low and studied Bree in the flickering television light. Her hair, loosened from the ponytail and still damp from their earlier shower, was everywhere. Mouth open, one foot hanging off the bed, makeup ruined, and still she was adorable. Probably as much a product of his unsettling feelings for her as her natural beauty.
Bree rolled over, throwing an arm across him. Wes sighed softly and slipped his arm beneath her head, cradling her against him. He stared at the ceiling, listening to the sound of her breathing, and hoped this wasn’t a mistake they’d both regret in the weeks ahead.
His phone vibrated on the nightstand beside him. Drake. It was late for his brother to be calling. After sunset, Drake was usually preoccupied with a gig or a groupie he’d met during said gig.
