Page 2 of Losing It

I try to finish what’s left of my gin and tonic, but an ice cube invades my mouth. Makes it too hard to swallow.

I gag.

Cough.

Just barely manage to avoid spitting on the balcony.

The perfect display of my sexual prowess really.

I can’t swallow a cocktail.

How can I…

God, I can’t even think that.

I can’t possibly say dear, Wes, please, please, please teach me how to suck cock. It’s clearly going to take a while because I’m choking on an ice cube. But I promise I’m an excellent student.

Wes just laughs. “You can slow down.”

I can’t. That’s the thing. I have to do this. Tonight.

I only have four weeks left in California.

I need to seize the day.

Night.

Whatever.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again.

I nod, but that doesn’t sell it.

He tilts his head to the other side.

His blue eyes fill with concern. Then he blinks, and it’s gone.

It’s strange.

Unlike him.

Or maybe I’m imagining things.

Wes uncaps the bottle, refills his glass, offers it to me.

I swallow my last sip. “Yes, please.”

He pours.

“I, um…” I take a long sip. I think that’s rum. Or maybe whiskey. What the hell is the difference anyway? “I want to ask you something.”

“Oh?” His lips part.

God, those lips look soft.

Kissable.

He’s handsome.

And pretty too.

“Yeah, um.” I swallow another sip. It’s not as smooth as the gin. It burns more. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

His blue eyes fix on mine.

I look up at him. Try to hold eye contact.

It’s too much.

My eyes go right to his chest.

To the tattoo peeking out from his t-shirt. Black lines. Words. Or maybe shapes.

It’s hard to tell in the dark.

What do they say?

What do they say about Wes?

Is he more than the cocky party animal he pretends to be?

The thought makes my stomach flutter.

But getting to know him is out of the question.

This is all wham, bam, thank you ma’am.

I want you to take my virginity.

One sentence. That’s it.

I take another step toward him.

My knees knock together.

The ground is weird. Floaty.

“Hey.” He wraps his arms around my waist. Catches me.

God, he’s so close.

And he smells good.

There’s something earthy in his shampoo.

Something I need more of.

“The thing is…” I force myself to look into his eyes, but it’s like staring into the sun. His baby blues are that pretty.

“Yeah?” He stares back at me.

I buckle.

He pulls me closer. “Come on, I’ll put you in a cab.”

“Right. Sure.” That’s a good idea. A car. To take me home. And far away from this embarrassing scene.

Far away from my only chance.

I can’t let that happen.

I just have to blurt it out. It’s one sentence. It’s no problem. “Wes—”

“Yeah?” He pulls me closer.

“Will you take my virginity?”

Chapter Two

Wes

Will you take my virginity?

Blood flees my brain at an alarming rate.

My balls tighten.

My cock stirs.

Fuck, I’m too close.

The innocent look in Quinn’s hazel eyes is doing shit to me.

Shit she’s going to feel.

Usually, that means go time.

Usually, I pull a woman close, whisper something dirty in her ear—baby, you’re making me so fucking hard—pin her to the wall, and…

Well, go.

I want to tease Quinn. Touch her. Taste her. Rub her until she’s screaming my name.

But she’s not ready for that.

Not even close.

“Oh my God.” Her cheeks flame. “I’m sorry. I should go—”

“I’ll walk you down.”

“No, I…” She takes a step backward. Stumbles. Reaches for the railing.

I grab her wrist harder than I mean to. “Slow down.”

She looks up at me. Nods. “I…”

“I’m putting you in a cab or driving you home.”

Her gaze shifts to the glass in my hand. “You’ve been drinking too.”

That’s a good point. “Putting you in a car. Come on.”

She looks at me funny, like she’s not sure when I got so bossy, but she still follows me.

I cut through the crowd.

A few people nod hello. Cheer Happy Birthday. Hold up their glasses and drink in my honor.

It’s flattering.

But it’s empty too.

I don’t know these fucking people.

I’m not sure what they’re doing here.

Or why they care I’m turning twenty-four.

Quinn holds me a little tighter.

Or maybe I pull her a little closer.

It’s hard to say.

I lead her out the door, down the stairs, all the way to the curb.

She slips her purse off her shoulder. Pulls out her phone. Fumbles over the buttons.

“Let me,” I say.

Her eyes stay on the ground as she nods.

I take the cell.

She clears her throat. “Wes, I—”

Hell yes.

Let’s go now.

I’ll get in this car with you.

Whisk you to your bedroom.

Fuck you senseless.

“You working tomorrow?” I ask.

“In the afternoon.”

“Come by the shop. I have an hour free at noon.”

“Are you sure?” she asks.

Hell yes. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” I call a ride share. Thank God for technology. It already knows her address.

It’s close. About a mile east, just past the line that divides Santa Monica and West LA.

Ding.

Your driver arrives in one minute.

Fuck. There isn’t much time.

“I think maybe…” She brushes her red hair behind her ear. “Maybe I should actually…”

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