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I swung him down, our eyes meeting for the first time.
“What the hell, Max?” Confusion, hope, and a multitude of a million other emotions flitted across his face.
I knew what I did was wrong. Forbidden even.
But the thought of anyone else touching Wes made me want to murder.
He shivered, and I frowned. “Where’s your shirt?”
Wes reached around, hand going to his back pocket but coming up empty. “Guess I lost it.”
I muttered a few curses, shrugging out of my jacket and wrapping it around him. Shivering again, he pushed his arms in, and I pulled the front closed to keep the air off his chest.
“Let’s go,” I said, putting my hand at the small of his back and nudging him to walk.
He took one step and then suddenly yanked free, backing away. His eyes were wide, owlishly so. His skin seemed pale in the dark, and the paint on his face didn’t glow out here in the night.
He shook his head, throat bobbing. “I’m not coming with you.”
“Yes,” I intoned, my patience near see-through. “You are.”
I took a step forward, and he took one back, maintaining the distance between us. Have I mentioned how goddamn tired I was of the distance between us?
Holding out his hands as if he could stave me off, he said, “I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me what the hell that was in there.”
“Didn’t I make it clear?”
He laughed, a pained sound. “Nothing you do is ever clear.”
My angry impatience dimmed a bit, and beneath the savage jealousy still pulsing through my limbs, I knew he was hurt. And confused.
And it was my fault.
Boots crunching over gravel, I closed the distance between us while he watched warily. When our feet bumped, his eyes darted away, the tip of his pink tongue zipping out to swipe at his lower lip.
Catching his chin, I forced his face up. “Look at me.”
His broody irises lifted, and this entire parking lot, the entire party scene, faded into nothing.
“That was me claiming what is mine. That was me refusing to let someone who isn’t me touch you.”
His eyes melted, then began to glimmer with pain. “You don’t want me,” he whispered, lower lip trembling just enough to be visible.
“Oh, Nemo. Yes the fuck I do.”
His eyes flared with the nickname, and then in a burst of movement, he shoved me back, dislodging the hold I had on him. His chest heaved. I watched the bare skin rise and fall as my jacket fell open. “Fuck you, Max! If you wanted me so much, you wouldn’t have held me, then pulled her into the bathroom to get me off your skin.”
I reared back as if he’d hit me, as if the pain in his voice was actually mine. “That’s what you think?” I rasped.
“I don’t think it. Your actions proved it.”
“Baby.” My voice cracked, and I pulled him into my arms again, his feeble attempts at evading no match at all for my will. “That’s not at all how it was.”
A rude sound resonated in his throat, and I dipped my lips to his. He refused to kiss me back at first, rolling his lips inward as though it could keep me away. I wasn’t staying away ever again.
“I want you,” I murmured, my lips brushing his with every spoken word. “Do you want me?”
His broken sound was the sweetest give, his lips coming out of hiding, reaching softly for mine. I settled firmly against them, rubbing us together as I hummed in my throat. His sweet whimper made me scoop him closer, hunching around him. He kissed tentatively at first, but it wasn’t enough, and soon he was clinging to my shirt, plastered against my chest as our lips went at it again and again. One of my hands slid up to grasp his neck, and he made a needy sound when the cold metal of one of my rings brushed against his jaw.
