Page 58 of Heart Breaker

There, I said it. I’ve spent days pretending I’m not thinking about him. Pretending I don’t notice every touch. Every look. Every quiet moment that lingers a little too long.

My heart pounds harder because there’s nowhere left to hide now. My gaze drops briefly to his mouth and when I look back up, he sucks in a strong breath. “Lottie…I’m trying very hard not to kiss you right now.” His words land between us with the subtlety of a wrecking ball.“I just can’t seem to get you out of my head.”

Wes’s eyes search mine. “Just for tonight,” he says, his voice rougher now. “Can we pretend that you’re really mine?”

My eyes close as I inhale a sharp breath. I want that. One night where I don’t have to think about the deal we made or the expiration date hanging over us. One night where I can just exist in this moment with him.

The last fragile piece of common sense inside me finally gives way, or maybe it just stops mattering. Wes leans in, one hand gripping my jaw, the other sliding into my hair, and for one suspended heartbeat, the entire world seems to stop spinning as his mouth finally crashes against mine.

TWENTY-TWO

Lottie

The second Wes’s mouth finds mine, every warning inside my head goes silent. There’s no hesitation. No pulling back. No moment where I stop to question whether this is smart or reckless or destined to end badly. I don’t care. I don’t want to think about tomorrow. I don’t want to think about consequences. I just want him.

The need to surrender to this—to him—rushes through me so hard it leaves me dizzy, and somehow Wes seems to sense it immediately. He takes over without a word. Confidently. Effortlessly. The kiss is devastating in its thoroughness, leaving me breathless before I even realize I’m losing air. Soft lips, broad sweeps of his tongue. It’s a kiss that feels so astoundingly good, I’m not sure how I ever lived without it.

His hand slides from my hair to the small of my back, drawing me closer across the narrow space between our seats, and he kisses me harder. It’s all-consuming, there’s no other way to describe it. His tongue thrusts possessively into my mouth, drawing a low, deep groan from him just as the same sound escapes from me. We kiss and kiss and kiss some more. I shift in my chair to get closer to him, but even then it’s not enough. My pulse is racing. My breathing feels uneven. The last shred of common sense I had before this moment evaporates when his tongue licks into my mouth in smooth, soft strokes. This kiss is far less careful than the last one. It’s uninhibited and hungry, the kind of kiss that obliterates self-control and leaves good judgement in ruins.

Wes tilts his head, deepening the kiss as my fingers roam over defined muscle, desperate to feel every inch of him. His hand slides down my back over my hip, his palm tightening over my ass before he nips at my bottom lip with his teeth.

Can we pretend that you’re really mine? His words run through my mind again.

I shouldn’t be kissing Wes. But oh, how I want to.

Another soft sound escapes me before I can stop it, my hand tangling in his hair. The kiss is overwhelming in the best possible way, not rushed or tentative, the kind that makes me forget where I am, aware of nothing but the man beside me.

A growl breaks free of him, a guttural sound so raw it tells me he’s losing this battle just as badly as I am.

“Fuck,” he mutters, resting his forehead briefly against mine. My hand slides from his hair to his chiselled chest when he breaks the kiss.

“I want you, Lottie,” he says quietly, his eyes searching my face, dark and intense and completely unguarded. “So fucking badly.”

And then his hand slips to the nape of my neck, sealing his mouth to mine in a bruising kiss. “I hate that you’re always there in the back of my mind.”

“You have my attention now,” I manage, breathless. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Come on,” he says, standing and holding out his hand to me. “Let’s get out of here.”

His eyes are dark with lust when he takes control, clasping my hand in his and helps me to my feet. His fingers tighten around mine as he leads me down the aisle and out into the cool night air. The second we reach his car, he’s on me again, backing me up against the passenger door before his mouth finds mine.

The kiss is far too short. Not because either of us wants it to be, but because Wes pulls back and rests his forehead against mine for a brief second. “If I take you back home and fuck you like I’ve been dreaming about, maybe I won’t be this wound tight around you anymore.”

“Only one way to find out.”

“Get in the car, Peach.”

The low command sends a fresh rush of heat through me. I won’t argue. He opens my door and helps me inside.

The drive back to Deep Cove feels nothing like the drive earlier this evening. The teasing is gone, and the laughter too. Wes drives with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting possessively on my thigh, my pulse kicking up another notch every time he gently squeezes my leg.

Outside, the city lights blur past the windows while the car eats up the distance between us and home faster than it should. The car has barely rolled to a stop in Wes’s driveway before we're both moving. He kills the engine and rounds the front of the car to open my door. By the time we make it inside the house, my pulse is completely out of control.

The front door has barely clicked shut before Wes is reaching for me again. His hands find my waist, pulling me close, and a shiver that I don’t bother trying to hide, trembles through me. I should slow down. I should think. I should remember all of the reasons this is complicated. Instead, every instinct inside of me seems determined to move in the opposite direction.

“No matter how hard I’ve tried to stop thinking about you, I can’t,” he says, with gray eyes as dark as granite and his hand tightening at my waist. “It’s a big fucking problem. You have no idea how many nights I’ve gone to bed thinking about you riding my cock and making you come.”

“Wes…”