Recklessly (25 page)

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Authors: A.J. Sand

BOOK: Recklessly
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Wes exhaled loudly. “No offense to your girl, but I want Lana back…” Wes told him and went to get her, shooing Dylan in the direction of Kai. Several women came over and tried to cut in over the course of their next round of dancing, but he waved them off. No way he was taking the chance that someone else might ask her to dance if he accepted any offers, and he didn’t want to. People were blatant in their staring and they probably thought she was his girlfriend, but he didn’t care.

“You can go dance, Wes,” Lana said. “They’re your fans. They like the fantasy of you being available. I mean you
are
…I don’t want to hog you. I’ll be okay.”

“I don’t want to.” He shook his head.

“Okay, then what do you want to do?” she asked, grabbing him at the waist. He pulled her body against his, angled her chin up with a firm grip and dropped an open mouth to hers.

“Kiss you.” After a smile, her tongue flicked across his bottom lip and he let her slip it into his mouth. He held her face, felt her palms settle on his forearms, and their lips shifted against each other’s, their tongues lapping the other’s mouth.

“Well, this isn’t extreme cuddling, but it’ll have to do,” Lana whispered back. Laughter erupted as soon as she said it, but it didn’t come from anyone within earshot. As he looked around, Wes realized that they were near the women who had been harassing Lana on the beach earlier, and Lana must’ve seen them too because she turned his head back to her, but his anger had already flared.

“You guys have to leave,” Wes said to them in a raised voice, and they turned to glower in defiance until they were cognizant of who he was.

“Wes…” Lana said, a disapproving edge in her tone.

“No, they have to go, Lan. I don’t want them here.” Wes dropped her hand and walked up closer to them. “My name is on the event promo and I won today, so I can actually get you tossed out.”

“Wes, wait, I need to say something,” Lana said when she approached. “You know what’s really sad? We complain so much that men sexualize us without caring about anything else about us, and yet, women are some of the first who will judge other women about sex without knowing anything else about them. Well, let me tell you something about me that you never bothered to learn regarding what kind of person I am. I’m not interested in you guys getting kicked out of here. I don’t want Wes to do that. You got all dressed up, you probably spent a ton of money to come to this competition, so you should stay and enjoy yourselves, and I hope you have a great night. One last thing. You.” Lana pointed at one of them. “What did you call Wes? If I remember correctly, it was ‘Captain Save a Ho’? Well, I guess my point in all of this is, and what I want
you
to remember is that
sometimes ‘
the
ho’
saves
you.
So, you should probably be nice to her.”

If his feelings for her weren’t already rooted, he would’ve fallen for her right then. She had handled herself without throwing a single punch or yelling or resorting to their level of nastiness, and Wes had breached a new level of respect for her. How was it possible to find new ways to lose himself in this woman? After breaking out into uproarious laughter, Wes grabbed a little higher than her waist, lifted her suddenly, and she leaned her face down close to his.

“You are fucking amazing, Lana…and you’re an absolute badass. Don’t ever let anyone tell you differently.” Wes angled his lips and she kissed him. “I’m going to get them kicked out anyway, though. I’ll be the asshole.”

“Let the twatsicles be,” Lana whispered to Wes as she held his neck. “Vey often
slut
and
whore
and their many variations
are just more concise ways of saying, ‘I don’t get you, and I hate that you are probably having all the fun I’m too afraid to have.’ I don’t like them, but I know those are just words for when someone wants to try to control you. And you know how I am about being controlled.”

“But they still don’t deserve to be in the same room as you.” He kissed her again. “Ready to go?”

She nodded. “Bathroom break first.” Wes set her down and tapped her butt lightly with his palm as she walked away.

“Bambi eyes,” Abel said to him on approach, before he threw his arm around his brother’s shoulders. “I finally figured out who you look like when you’re staring at her. A Disney animal character. Ridiculously huge saucer eyes that are too big for your face.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m happy for you, bro. She seems like a great girl. I missed out on my chance of keeping the one I almost had, so you should go for it…as long as it doesn’t interfere with your surfing.”

“Abel, you can’t live vicariously through me…”

“I’m not trying to. It’s just that…you
deserve
this, Wesley. You’ve been working hard, man. I just don’t want to see my hetero life partner screw up this year.”

“I’ve got it all under control, mom,” Wes said, hugging him. Over Abel’s shoulder he caught a glimpse of a hot pink dress on the far side of the space through the slivers of passing people. A few feet away he spotted Brody, which meant the person in the dress was probably Lana. Concern then jealousy spiraled through him as he pulled away from Abel. That relationship bothered him but there was nothing he could do about it; he had already done what he felt he had an obligation to do on her behalf. Lana walked over smiling with Brody’s gaze digging into her back. Wes scowled at Brody, whose attention was already focused on a familiar blonde. Charlotte.

“What was that?” Wes asked when Lana reached him. “Was he being an asshole? What is he saying to Char?”

“He was just apologizing to me for not shutting down the crap people say,” she said with a big, reassuring smile as she gave Abel a hug. “And we talked about some Sadie-related stuff.”

“Oh…” Wes whispered. He hated to admit it, but he was still very envious of that connection of theirs.

“Okay?” Lana linked arms with Wes. “I guess something you said got through to him. Thank you. You ready?”

Although he nodded, Wes didn’t budge. “Is he still using?”

“He swore to me and the Olins that he was done with that way before that article came out, which he
has
to be for them to even consider allowing him into Sadie’s life the way they’ve let me.”

“How does he know Char? I don’t want him hanging around my cousin.”

“At the U.S. Open, she came over when we were doing a toast to talk to me. I introduced them because she asked me to, but I went off to watch the competition.” Lana touched the side of his face. “You want me to talk to her about it?”

“Yeah, please. If I do it, she’ll just do the opposite.” They went inside the hotel to change into their swimsuits—board shorts for him and a bright green bikini for her. Wes led her to a quiet part of the well-lit beach, away from the whirlwind of the resort, with her sketchpad, a camera, a surfboard, a blanket and a beach cabana in tow.

The sky held an ample white moon, which was casting a ghostly streak on the swelling dark waters of the Pacific. She sat just outside the beach cabana, drawing, and Wes went out for a brief night surf.

This
thing
with Lana was weighing heavily on his thoughts. How in the world could he bring up this shift that had happened—and it was pretty obvious, so there was no way he’d catch her off guard—without it actually changing things between them? That was the ironic part, mentioning the change would actually change things. But his heart was so different now, so involved now. They could probably make it work more than the people who actually sought out relationships. They would be careful, there wouldn’t be chick flick romance idealism, and they wouldn’t develop unrealistic expectations of each other. It would be like now, but just the two of them, official. It was that simple.
Right?
Jogging back to the shore though, he was far less emboldened about his ideas when he sat next to her.

“I’ve been drawing you, Deuce,” she said, and she showed him the partially completed sketch of him surfing, a heavy, menacing wave threatening to swallow him. “I’ve been working on it for a while now. I wanted to surprise you. Maybe it’ll be good luck.”

As she continued to work, staring out into the ocean periodically to gather her creative thoughts, he snapped a picture of her without her noticing. He smiled as he reviewed it. It was a gorgeous photo, if he could say so himself; he’d caught her right when she was looking out at the water, a light wind whipping her hair up into the air.

“Okay, my turn to draw you. You’ve drawn me twice now and I have yet to draw you.” He dried off his hands and took her sketchpad and pencils.

“That’s because we both know it’s going to be terrible.”

“Ouuuuuch. You always go for the kill shot, huh, Lan? Close your eyes.” He was no artist, so he had barely mastered 2-D drawings, much less the 3-D renderings she created. “Okay, I’m done,” he said within a few minutes. He gestured at her to sit on his lap after he lay on his back. “Keep your eyes closed. Okay, now look.” Wes spun the drawing to face her.

And it was worth hearing her exploding laughter. “Oh my God, Wes, that’s a huge circle with brown squiggly lines for hair! And…are those boobs? Why does my drawing have boobs at all? And why are they almost as big as my head?” Wes took the drawing back from her, scribbled on it and showed it to her again. “‘Not drawn to scale?’ Oh my God.”

Wes slid into the cabana, and flipped them so that she was on her back. She laughed at the sudden rotation but got quiet when he stroked her face.
Just tell her. Tell her. Tell her.
But his chest was wrenching too much, too full of everything he now cherished about their relationship.
He ran his finger from her temple to her cheek to the slant of her jaw, still unable to find the right words. His heart was churning, not even beating, but
churning
his insides, making him nauseated, anxious.

“Wes, why are you looking at me like that?” She squeezed his biceps, her eyes moving rapidly beneath her furrowed brow as she studied him. “Wes, are you—”

He lowered his lips to hers, sinking into the calming effect kissing her seemed to bring on. Her legs tightened around his waist, her palms stroking his back, as they gave in to a moment of tame passion. Just lips brushing, only puckering, barely any attempt to prod the other’s mouth. He pulled back and cradled her face, loving how stunned and breathless she looked.

“I can’t draw you or paint you; I don’t have the skill. But if I could, Lana Marie Langston, I’d use whatever color brown would best capture how bold and bright your eyes are. Draw you smiling, of course…because of your dimple. Then, I’d bring out the light rosy color of your lips, sketch to show how delicate and soft they are. I’d show how smooth your skin is, how I love the creamy, pale tone, and how I can’t keep my hands off you. I’d use whatever artistic technique would bring out the strong shape of your body. I love where you curve—everywhere you curve—where you’re delicate, where you’re soft, where you’re toned. And then if it were at all possible, make all of it reveal just how much you light a fire in my chest when you look at me because I just can’t believe that someone as beautiful as you hasn’t already been drawn a million times.”

His arms were hurting; she had been squeezing him tighter and tighter as he spoke. There was so much more he wanted to say, but nothing his brain came up with sufficed to capture how he felt. Wes Elliott, who truly had no problem saying whatever he wanted to, was actually out of words. Maybe because of how well she knew him now, she’d figure out the message buried underneath, he hoped. She was still studying him, still looking completely stunned, but with the glow of tears in her eyes.

“Wow…Wes…I…” Her lips trembled as she raised her head just slightly to kiss him. “That was…I don’t even know what to say or how to say it. I don’t care that you can’t draw that, Wes. I’m never going to forget it.” Her arm snaked around his neck and she pulled his mouth down hard against hers. “Never,” she said between kisses, “Ever.”

“That’s ‘cause when sexy, tattooed, blondie surfer compliments,
he compliments
…” Wes said with a wink but he quickly turned serious. “…And it’s easy to do because you’re fucking perfect, Lana Marie Langston. You are so fucking perfect. For me.”

She stroked his lip with her thumb. “For you?”

“Just for me…”

“I want you so much, Wes,” she whispered.

“How do you want me, baby?”

“I just want you, Wes…” She yanked his board shorts down, pushing them the rest of the way with her feet as he tore her bikini off.

He sat up on his haunches, right between her bent knees. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, tracing her stomach with his fingers. “Give me your hands.” She obliged with curiosity and confusion in her smile. “I just want you to feel what I see…what I adore.” Guiding her hands, he drew them over her cheeks, making her pinch them, and she laughed when he dug her finger into her dimple. He grazed her hands over her breasts, then down her sides, pausing at her waist.

“I love the small dip right before your hips. Sexiest part of you. My favorite.” Watching her hands move over the span of her sweat-misted body was an instant turn on, he felt the familiar rush of blood to his groin. He pressed her palms across her stomach and brought them out again to her hips then steered them to her inner thighs. “I can take it from here,” he said with a smile, pushing his fingers into her as he brought his tongue down to her torso. Even without any request from him, she was still running her hand down her frame again alongside his mouth, touching her body and spearing her fingers through his hair. With an enticing smile, she suddenly sat up and took his penis in her hand, fondling him in pace with his movements in her.

“Fuck me like you promised…” she whispered. Wes rolled a condom on without looking, and with as much impatience and need as she had, he plunged in as deep as he could go, until his pelvis was pressing right up against her when she lay back. Her body adjusted for him, and he relished in the feel of her. With his chest on hers, her entire body received him: her hands were locked around him, fingers digging into his back, legs angled over his, mouth buried in the crook of his neck.

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