Losing It

Wes draws the curtains. Lets in the light of the strip.

It’s gorgeous.

Bright.

Gaudy.

Perfect.

He turns his body toward mine. Cups my hip with his palm. “You want the city to see this?”

“Can they see all the way up here?”

His voice drops to something low and demanding. “I dunno, angel. You want them to see?”

“Maybe.” There is something hot about the idea of being watched. One day. “But not today.”

He nods fair and pulls my body into his.

I melt into him, one part at a time. Thighs, crotch, stomach, chest, lips.

Fuck, he tastes good.

Like rum and sugar and Wes.

This might be it.

We have tomorrow.

My flight leaves first thing the next morning.

That’s barely thirty-six hours to figure this out.

I hope it’s not our only night together.

But if it is…

I’m enjoying the hell out of it.

He brushes my hair behind my ear. “I tell you how fucking fantastic you look tonight?”

“Yeah.” I lean into his touch. “But I still want to hear it again.”

“You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you.”

His fingers skim my jawline.

“You do too.”

Gently, he slides my glasses off my face.

I stare up at him. Even in my heels, I’m a little shorter than Wes. There’s something right about that. Our bodies fit together. “You’re not insisting?”

“Don’t want to break them.”

“You’re gonna get that—”

“I might.”

“But you…” I suck a breath through my teeth. Exhale slowly. Yeah, I want this to be perfect, like something out of a movie. But the reality of awkwardness and pain and—

“You’re scared?”

“A little.”

“That’s okay.”

“It is?”

“Yeah.” He sets my glasses on the side table. He takes a step backward. Motions come here. “I just need you to breathe.”

“Breathe?”

He nods. “Can you do that?”

“I think so.”

“Good.”

Again, he motions come here.

I follow him to the bed.

One hand goes to the strap of my dress. The other goes to my ass.

Wes pulls me into a slow, deep kiss.

I rise to my tiptoes.

Knot my fingers in his hair.

Arch my hips to meet his.

I can feel his kiss all the way in my bones.

It’s hard to explain.

It’s deeper, fuller, harder.

Better.

So much better.

He pushes my straps off my shoulder.

The right.

Then the left.

Slowly, Wes traces the neckline of my dress with his fingertips. Right to left. Left to right.

He dips a little lower the next time.

Lower.

Beneath the stiff fabric of my dress.

His fingertips brush my skin.

The outline of my breath.

Beneath that.

Fuck.

The friction of his digit against my nipple—

It’s feather light.

So soft I can barely feel it.

But, fuck, how I feel it.

I pull him closer.

Kiss him deeper.

He teases with those same feather light touches. Right to left, left to right, lower, again, again.

Then back up.

He’s slow.

So fucking slow.

Too fucking slow.

Just slow enough.

When his fingertips hit my collarbones, he brings one hand to my back. Right to my dress’s zipper.

Drags his lips to my ear. “Turn around.”

I do.

He bends as he pulls my zipper down my spine.

Stands as he traces its path.

His fingers are light against my skin.

It’s not enough.

It’s too much.

I’m already buzzing.

I’m already pent up.

I’m already desperate.

“Please,” I breathe.

“Please what, angel?”

“Please fuck me.”

“I will.” He brings his lips to my neck. “Soon.”

“Now.”

“No, angel.” His lips brush my neck. Softly. Then harder. “I’m not even close to done with you yet.”

My sex clenches.

My knees knock.

My legs shake.

He’s so fucking sexy.

It’s wrong.

It really is.

“Remember.” He scrapes his teeth against my skin. “Breathe.”

I nod, like I’ve got it under control.

But I don’t.

There’s so much whirling inside me.

I want him.

I need him.

I really, really fucking need this.

Deep breath.

Slow exhale.

Maybe I don’t know about tomorrow.

Or med school.

Or the rest of my life.

But right now, I have absolutely no doubts.

I want Wes.

I push my dress to my waist.

He bends to pull it all the way to my ankles. His fingertips skim the backs of my calves.

Slowly, he traces a line up my body. Along the crook of my knee, up my thighs, over my ass.

He stops at the straps of my thong. “You wear this for me, angel?”

“Yeah,” I breathe.

“You like teasing me?”

I nod.

“You like driving me out of my fucking mind?”

Again, I nod. But it’s hard to grasp that possibility. It’s hard to believe I affect him at all.

I arch my back until my ass is against his crotch.

There’s no denying it.

He’s hard.

For me.

He wants me.

Needs me.

Maybe as badly as I need him.

God, I need him so fucking badly.

“Please.” I rub my ass against him, over his jeans. “Wes, please.”

“Yeah, angel?”

“Make me come.”

“Fuck.” He traces the outline of my thong. “Quinn.”

“Please.”

He drags one hand up my back, all the way to my bra. With one flick of his fingers, he unhooks it.

The strapless thing tumbles to the floor.

With his other hand, he pushes my thong off my hips.

There.

Except for my heels, I’m naked.

It’s far from the first time I’ve been naked with Wes.

But it’s the first time we’re doing this.

It’s the first time, period.

My heart thuds against my chest. It’s so loud. It’s the only thing in my head.