Page 28 of Weston’s Treasure

At this juncture, I really didn’t want to talk. I wasn’t sure what I would do if he told me what happened was a mistake—even if he was right and we shouldn’t have gone there—it would kill to hear him say it.

I didn’t want to hear it, therefore I got smart and brought my hands up to his chest and started to shove him off of me.

“Move,” I demanded.

“Not until we talk.”

“I get it.”

“No, Silver, I’m learning you don’t get shit and I’m gonna have to spell it out for you.”

“I think I’ve had enough of you spelling things out for me.”

Weston’s face broke out into a wide smile—another one of his half-smirk, half-I-have-a-really-great-secret—kinds, and I wished he’d stop doing that. It was hard enough to breathe with him braced over me, muscles on display—not all of them of course, but I had the perfect view of his chest, shoulders, and biceps.

“You’re wearing my tee,” he noted.

It’s worth mentioning he didn’t look put-out by this. If anything his face had gentled and he was looking at me funny.

I had five-hundred and fifty-two sarcastic and bitchy comebacks on the tip of my tongue but wisely I kept them to myself.

“Yep,” was what I settled on.

“Back to what happened,” he started.

“You don’t—”

I got nothing else out. Weston rolled to his side, bringing me with him, tagged my thigh, brought it over his, and held me captive.

‘Captive’ being a relative term since it felt good, and therefore I didn’t struggle all that much. Though I knew I should’ve. Our new position was dangerous. If Weston moved or pulled my leg higher, my bare pussy would be pressed against his thigh.

“So, straight up, I only meant to kiss you. After hearing you spout off the garbage in your head, I had a point to make. But honest to God, the second you came at me and your lips were on mine, I couldn’t for the life of me remember what my point was. From there, everything that happened was without thought. I allowed need to take over when I should’ve stayed in control. So now we gotta talk about it and I think I know where you’re at with all of it, but I have to make sure.”

“Where I’m at?”

“Sweetheart, I didn’t exactly ask if I could undress you and take you on the counter.”

That was sweet he was asking me now, and Weston being sweet was a different kind of dangerous. When his voice gentled and he was showing concern for my well-being it was hard to remain bitchy. It was like he doused my bad attitude and I was powerless to keep it, even if it was the smart thing to do.

“I kissed you,” I reminded him.

“You did. But that didn’t give me the green light to take your shirt off.”

He was right, it didn’t. But I hadn’t told him no. I’d lifted my arms and aided him in his endeavor. I’d even begged him to give me more and definitely helped him take my pants off.

“If I didn’t want it to happen I would’ve told you no.”

“Good. That’s what I needed to hear. The second part of that is, in the future if I’m doing something you don’t like or going too fast I need you to understand if you tell me to stop I always will. No matter what we’re doin’, how far we’ve gone. I will always listen to you.”

In the future? My belly started to flutter and not in a bad way, in a really, really good way that scared me even more. ‘In the future’ meant he was planning on doing that again, and I liked what we did the first time so much, I knew I’d like it even more the second time. Which meant when all of this was over and we went our separate ways, it was going to not feel so great. In other words—I’d be heartbroken.

I didn’t have the experience to handle a casual affair. I didn’t understand what casual even meant. So I figured in an effort to quell future heartbreak it was better to experience the embarrassment of telling Weston that now. Better a moment of mortification than months of nursing my shattered heart.

“Weston?” I sighed.

“Right here, babe.”

“I don’t regret what we did. I liked it—all of it.”