Undenied (Unspoken 3)

Gracie laughed and put her hand on his arm. “Wes, you’re being way too hard on yourself. You were eighteen. Most eighteen-year-olds haven’t climbed the ranks to considerate-lover status yet. I’d say you more than made up for it in the years since.”

“I just wish A. she hadn’t popped out of nowhere, and B. she hadn’t been so nice or acted like she was so damn glad to see me. I was more than happy to keep that incident out of my mind. No guy likes to have his sexual failures shoved under his nose.”

“But she didn’t shove it under your nose. You said she acted genuinely glad to see you. Have you thought maybe the experience was far more traumatic for you than it was for her?”

“Gracie, I hurt her. A girl’s first time shouldn’t be like that. I made her cry, for God’s sake.”

“All I’m saying is that, in all likelihood, she views that experience much the same as most women do. Not great but not the end of the world.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just picture all her girlfriends asking who I am. And then she says, oh that was the dumbass I gave my virginity to, the dumbass who had as much finesse as a toad.”

Gracie lost all control and started laughing. “So this boils down to your fragile male ego. You don’t want it to get out that you weren’t always a god in bed.”

“I fail to see what’s so damn funny,” he muttered.

“Let me be the first to burst your bubble, stud.” Her eyes twinkled in devilish merriment, and he knew without a doubt she was having way too much fun at his expense. “A lot of guys suck in bed. They don’t think they do. Ask them and they’re God’s gift to women. Ask women and you get a whole different story. I know. I’ve been through enough losers. Oh, they all thought they were the world’s greatest lover, but for the most part, it was all I could do not to fall asleep during their version of foreplay, which usually consisted of ‘suck my dick’.”

He gave her a wounded look. Damn heifer wasn’t doing anything to reassure him here. “You just said that I didn’t suck in bed.”

“No, you don’t, but it doesn’t hurt for you to think you do. No doubt it’ll make you more determined to impress your next woman when it comes time to get between the sheets.”

“Bitch. You’re supposed to tell me what a great lay I am and that what happened twelve years ago was a freak incident.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what I’ve spent the last ten minutes telling you?”

He sighed again.

She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, and for a moment, all he really wanted to do was take her to bed. They had great chemistry, and if anyone could reestablish his confidence it was Gracie.

“Give yourself a break, Wes,” she murmured as she pulled away. She put a hand to his cheek and rubbed her thumb over his goatee. “Chances are you won’t even see her again.”

He reached up and put his hand over hers then turned her palm over to kiss the exposed skin. “Thanks, Gracie. You’re the best. I mean that.”

The door from the garage opened and Luke Forsythe shouldered his way in carrying a case of beer and a bag of ice.

Gracie’s face lit up, and Wes let her fingers fall from his.

Luke dropped the ice on the floor and heaved the beer onto the island. He bent over to kiss Gracie then glanced up at Wes. “Am I interrupting an intimate moment here?” he asked with barely suppressed amusement.

“Not unless you guys are surprising me with another threesome,” Gracie said cheekily as she winked at Wes.

Wes laughed and shook his head. God, he loved this woman. He could never ask for better friends than her and Luke. Whatever his reservations had been in the beginning about a threesome causing awkwardness in the relationship, they were gone now. Nothing had changed between them, and if anything, they were closer.

“I was just giving Wes some chick advice,” she said. “Butthead needed it.”

Luke shook his head. “Not even going to ask.” He nodded at Wes as Gracie snuggled into his side. “Well? We gonna stand around the kitchen all night having chick talk or are we going to drink some beer and watch the fight?”

Chapter Three

Payton wrapped her fingers around the steering wheel and sat staring at Wes Hoffman’s house. Why in the world she was sitting here in his driveway the day after he’d given her the most blatant brush-off was beyond her. Maybe she was a masochist. Or maybe she just wanted to know what the hell had inspired such a frantic retreat.

She certainly hadn’t come to town looking for him, but now that she’d seen him again, her curiosity was eating her alive.

He’d fascinated her as a teenager, but the adult version, the gorgeous man he’d grown up to be, well, he was downright mouthwatering.

She searched her memory, remembering the day they’d driven out to the lake, picnic basket in the back of the truck. They’d spread out a blanket by the water and spent a lazy afternoon gazing up at the clouds.

When evening fell, they’d moved awkwardly closer. He’d kissed her, lightly, searching, sweetly as only a first lover can do.

She emitted a small sigh as the corners of her lips surged upward. It had been a perfect day. Not unlike today. Beautiful, sunny. Really, even as hot and humid as it got so far south, she wouldn’t trade summers here for anything.

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel as she pressed back against the seat. She summoned her courage, taking in a deep, steadying breath.

“Well, you can sit out here all day like a freaking loon, or you can go knock on the door and invite him to lunch.”

She took in another deep breath, drew up her shoulders then let them fall before she opened the door and hauled herself out of her car.

He intrigued her. Always had. A soft smile eased her nerves as she headed up the short walkway to the door. No, he wasn’t a boy anymore. She’d figured that out about the time she hit him square in the chest last night. The possibilities his more manly physique presented were definitely appealing.

“And maybe it’s been too long since you got laid,” she muttered. Although it hadn’t been that long. Certainly not so long that she ought to be panting after the first available male she came across. No, desperation didn’t account for her reaction to Wes Hoffman. She was as attracted to him now as she’d been twelve years ago. In some ways, the attraction was heightened. She’d learned a lot more about sex since she tested the waters at sixteen. She grinned. A whole lot more.

She flipped her hair over her shoulders, smoothed her hands down her jeans and pushed the button for the doorbell. She looked from side to side and tapped her foot on the concrete porch as she waited for him to answer.

Then the door opened and Wes’s startled gaze met hers.

She glanced appreciatively over his physique. He wore a pair of shorts, no shirt, and she couldn’t quite rip her eyes from his well-muscled chest. Not an inch of spare flesh dotted his abdomen. He worked out, and it was obvious.

“Hi…uh, I wasn’t expecting you,” he said awkwardly.

She smiled. “I know. Thought I’d drop by and invite you to lunch. Catch up on old times. Stuff like that.”

Was that panic in his eyes? Guys only got the deer-in-the-headlights look when they got their hand caught in the cookie jar.

“Are you married?” she demanded.

He actually looked appalled. “Why the hell would you ask that?”

She shrugged. “A reasonable assumption given the fact you act as happy to see me as you would a good case of the clap.”