“We’re leaving in an hour.” His fingers creep beneath my tee, splaying out on the smooth skin just below my belly button.
I mirror his movements, pressing my palms on the sides of his abs. “I’ll wake Heidi up.”
As he drops his mouth a little closer to mine, his warm breath fans across my face, and I tilt up my chin. “Not yet.” His fingers trace the length of my torso, all the way up to the sensitive spot beneath my breasts, and then they move back down, cupping the wide curves of my hips. “You’re still angry.”
Why does he have to make everything so difficult? Why does he have to tear me down at every turn just to make me want him at the next? “Of course I am,” I hiss, suddenly out of breath. “You acted like a jealous idiot.”
The muscles in his neck tighten. “And you haven’t?”
I lower my chin, scowling up at him from beneath my lashes, which are still coated in the mascara I used last night. “I’ve never insulted anyone speaking to you in a bar, not even when it was anything but innocent.”
He mutters a curse, and just when I expect him to get the verbal apology out of the way so we can be on our way, he surprises me. He picks me up, and he literally hauls me over his shoulder.
“Put me down,” I warn.
Ignoring me, he moves out of the doorway and uses the toe of his boot to close the door quietly.
“Wyatt, so help me—”
“You’ll what, beautiful? Hit me? Scream?” His pierced lips drag up into a wicked grin. “You know I love it when you do both.”
Because I don’t want to give Heidi the shittiest wake-up call ever, I don’t scream at him. Instead, I rake my sorry excuse for fingernails up his back through his soft black T-shirt. When he chuckles, I can feel it vibrate through my body. “You think that’ll stop me from talking to you?”
No, because he’s probably getting a boner from it.
He doesn’t let go of me until we’re behind the bathroom door, and even then, he sits me on the beige granite countertop, locking my legs between his. I hit him in the chest, hard, but he doesn’t budge.
“You’re letting it all out now, aren’t you, babe? First, jealousy, and now this?” I demand. “You must truly want me to experience everything you’ve got to offer before we go back to L.A.”
Wyatt’s hand inches up my back, finally tangling into the tousled hair on the nape of my neck. “I was out of line last night.” When he tilts my head back a little, giving my hair a tug, a shot of pleasure pours through me, and I make a soft sound. He must take it for a sound of disgust because he drags his other hand through his hair. “I fucking overreacted, Ky. I’ve never done that.”
“No,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut. “You haven’t.”
“It’s getting closer—us getting back to L.A. And this is the first time I’ve ever believed you when you said you’re through.”
I panic because I don’t want to hear him talk about the end. I feel like a strong hand is clenching my heart, stopping it from beating just right. I smooth my hand up his chest to the hollow of his tattooed throat.
“Don’t do that,” I whisper. He starts to say something else, but I move my other hand into his jeans and wrap it around his cock. It’s a coward move, but I never said I was opposed to taking the easy way out sometimes. “Don’t,” I say once more, gripping him firmly.
I feel him go hard slowly beneath my touch. He slumps forward, placing his palm flat on the bathroom mirror behind me. “You’re killing me.”
Acknowledging what he’s just said with a stiff nod, I stroke my hand up and down his length, pressing my thumb to the top of his shaft.
“Open your legs,” he breathes into my ear.
My chest is rising and falling heavily, and I want him—oh god, I want him—but I press my lips together. “No.”
“I need to touch your pus—”
I slide my fingers from his neck to his lips. “No.”
His long legs go weak, and I use this opportunity to loosen their grip on my legs. I place my feet on each side of him, nudging his jeans and boxers down his hips. When I pull him closer to me by enclosing his body with my legs, he sucks in a harsh breath.
“Fuck.” His fingertips find their way back to my hair. “Your nipples are hard, and I know you’re wet. Lie all you want, Ky, but I can see that shit in your eyes. You can’t tell me you don’t want me to touch you.”
I curl my other hand around his length, and the fact that all my fingers are on his cock, stroking and squeezing, causes him to tremble.
“No, I can’t tell you that because I am wet. I do want you to touch me,” I say breathlessly. He groans, his lip piercing teasing my ear. “But now’s not the time.”
He leans back, the smile on his face a mixture of pleasure and pain, as he shakes his head. “Of course it is, beautiful. It’s always the time.”
But he respects my wishes. He doesn’t try to touch me as I guide him to an orgasm. He buries his mouth against my neck, releasing a low animalistic sound on my skin. As he starts to untangle his fingers from my hair, he backs away, but I jerk him toward me, skimming my hands over his muscular shoulders.
“Kiss me.”
His tongue parts mine, thrusting into my mouth, punishing me for not allowing him to touch me. He sucks on my bottom lip and then my tongue, but it doesn’t bother me. In fact, it’s addictive. When he draws back, I’m slow to open my eyes.
He’s grinning, but the look in his eyes drops a brick into my stomach. It’s the look of bitter defeat. “We’ve made a mess,” he says.
I don’t fail to catch the double meaning. “Yeah,” I say softly, “we have.”
Chapter Ten
After Wyatt leaves my room, I decide to wait to try and wake Heidi, so I take a long shower that would deplete all the hot water back in my L.A., apartment. By the time I’m done, I’ve managed to calm my nerves, the trembling in my legs have stopped, and I’m articulate enough to understand. I can look my best friend in the eye without raising her suspicions about what Wyatt and I did a mere fifteen feet away from her while she was sleeping.
I spend a solid ten minutes trying to coax her out of bed, and Heidi doesn’t take the disturbance well. Eventually, I look up a Lady Gaga song on my phone.
Fifteen seconds into “LoveGame,” Heidi jolts up with bloodshot eyes and her hair flying everywhere. “That’s so fucked-up, Ky.”
“We’re leaving.”
She fumbles under her pillow for her phone. As soon as she checks the time, her expression goes blank. “You’re kidding.”
“You can sleep on the way there,” I promise. “Trust me, you’ll be fine.”
But a few minutes later, while she’s packing her belongings, she’s still irritable and drowsy. “This is bullshit.” She grabs her outfit from last night from the back of the chair and tosses it onto the heap of clothing in her suitcase. “They’re not playing in New Mexico until when? Tomorrow night?”
I roll a pair of my jeans into a compact bundle and slide them neatly into my bag. “Albuquerque is nearly a thousand miles away from here, babe. With traffic and stops, it’s an easy fourteen hours.” Thinking of it in hours suddenly makes my ass sore, and I grimace.
“I should probably call my parents and let them know we’ll be in Phoenix on Saturday morning, huh?”
She straddles her bag between her slim long legs, squeezes it tightly together, and tugs at the zipper. If my phone wasn’t on the other side of the room, sitting on top of the mini-fridge, I would record this.
Finally, the zipper gives, and Heidi stumbles back, glaring at it. “I hate packing.”
“What you just did was disturbing on so many levels.” I rise from my spot on the floor and check my appearance one final time in the mirror. The effect that Wyatt has on me is obvious, at least in my opinion, as I study my reflection. I’m able to look past the circles beneath my almond-shaped brown eyes to see how my cheeks are flushed and how my lips seem fuller from kissing him earlier. My hand shakes a little as I trace the outline of my mouth.
Heidi clears her throat. “And you call me disturbing.” I see her reflection in the mirror as her head cocks to one side. She shuffles closer to me, stopping just a few feet away from the dresser. “So, about visiting my parents—yay or nay?”
Because she’s studying me so carefully, I respond quickly. “You should probably go see them.” I twist away from the mirror, facing her directly. “They’d be pissed if you came to town and didn’t at least meet them for dinner.”
“Probably,” she agrees, making me wonder why she asked me in the first place. “I haven’t been home since Christmas.”
“Then, you should definitely go.”
Of course, advising Heidi that she needs to visit her parents once we reach Phoenix for the last show makes me feel like shit. Over the past two months, my mom’s been good enough not to put pressure on me about coming to Atlanta, but sooner or later, her patience will wear out.
“I’m probably going to go home next month. To Atlanta,” I say.