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A gusty exhale escaped me, but I couldn’t resist the command. I resumed stroking, and knowing he was watching me—even if he couldn’t see a damn thing—made me far more sensitive. A small pleasured sound broke from my clenched teeth.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “Do it.”
Fabric rustled, then the sound of a zipper being drawn down.
Wes pulled out his cock and began to stroke along with me. I was covered with a sheet and cast in darkness, but the light from the kitchen backlit him, and I could see the thick meat in his hand as he worked it ruthlessly. But it was his face I really liked watching. His eyes closed, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth, tension twisting his features into almost a snarl. He tipped his head back, a groan rumbling from him, and seeing his throat exposed strangely sent a jolt of lust through me.
My climax hit, and I crammed the knuckles of my free hand into my mouth to muffle my cry. Wes heard it anyway. “Fuck, yeah,” he said. “You sound so hot when you come.”
He gave a ragged groan, spurting over his fist as he came too.
Afterward, the room echoed with our noisy breathing. Wes wiped his hand on his jeans and tucked his cock back into his pants. He waited a minute, as if he expected me to say something.
“You weren’t here,” I finally muttered.
“It was just a dream, Beck. I know.”
He withdrew from my room, closing my door far more gently than he had the front door when he entered. Had he wanted me to hear him come in? Had he hoped something would happen?
Fuck, but this situation was messing with my head. All week, work had gone smoothly. Despite Dad’s ultimatums, we had the business well in hand. We’d managed our evenings okay too, even if there was a bit of awkward tension between us whenever we were alone.
It had seemed as if things were getting back to how they should be. Now? I wasn’t so sure.
I drifted into an uneasy sleep, and the following morning, I got up and heated up a breakfast burrito. Wes emerged from the hallway, hair still messy, sweatpants doing little to disguise the shape of the cock I’d already memorized.
It was the moment of truth. If he called me on what happened last night, I was fucked.
He smiled at me, a knowing gleam in his eyes as he opened a cabinet to pull out a box of cereal. “You have any good dreams last night?”
“I don’t remember,” I said. “You?”
He sent me a searing look. “Oh, I remember,” he said in a low voice that made goose bumps erupt on my skin. “But I doubt you want to hear about all that.”
“Yeah, probably not,” I said, my voice only a little shaky.
He nodded. “Fair enough.”
But it wasn’t fair. Not to either of us.
If last night was any indication, I was going to have to find a way to put more space between us, even if the thought of who might step in to fill that spot in Wes’s arms did kill my soul just a little.
CHAPTER7
WES
“Coltonand I had a big fight. I couldn’t stay there another minute.”
Andi stood on my doorstep, eyes filled with tears. I opened the door wider to let her in. She carried a duffel bag over her shoulder, and I was pretty sure I knew what that meant, but Beck wasn’t going to like it. He’d been avoiding me ever since the “dream” last night, so he was out right now.
I took the bag from her and set it down. “Do I need to kick Colt’s ass?”
“No, I just needed some space, you know?”
Space. What a novel concept. I just hoped Beck didn’t decide he needed space from me. He’d been gone most of the day, doing who knew what, and like an addict that needed his next hit, I was already itching to see him again.
“I get it, Andi. But why not go to Dad and Carol? You know they have way more space.”
“Not to mention cleaner space,” she said with a snort as she eyed my burrito wrappers and collection of soda cans. But hey, moping made me hungry. And lethargic. Beckett usually ensured I picked up after myself…eventually.
