Recklessly (26 page)

“I missed this,” he whispered. Not so much sex as sex with
her.
Her warm whimpers saturated his skin, and with her hair lightly fisted in his hand, Wes thrust into a rhythm of hard strokes. Groping her breast, he flicked his tongue along her neck, kissing her collarbone, before moving up to her lips. He kissed each one individually, tasted her sweat, felt the soft sucking of his lip between hers. Then he ravaged her mouth, sinking into the taste he’d become so familiar with, until their mouths were in a gasping twist.

She cradled his face over hers, ending the kiss, and they held eye contact—her brown eyes widening, shining—her breaths quickening every time she expelled one into the air. He wanted to tell her that she was beautiful again, but it seemed so inadequate for what he was experiencing, and the word became so ordinary in his mind, too dull for her.

“Wes…” At the mention of his name, he increased the intensity of his pumps into her as she circled her hips against him. Lana bit her lip, and he panicked, thought he was hurting her, but there wasn’t pain in her eyes at all; it was something strong and absorbing that pierced right through his soul.

She connected their mouths once more with a press to the back of his head, and it was a kiss so stirring it induced a slow burn—the hint of his orgasm—right at the base of his spine. Wes flattened his hand between their bodies, seeking out her clit, causing an immediate arch of her back and writhing of her hips. He pulled his mouth away to watch her head go back, driving harder into her. Crying out, she jabbed her nails into his neck then scraped them down the length of his back.

“Wes…” she breathed, in the most vulnerable tone he’d ever heard her speak. “I…I need you…” Hot shivers blew through him, and his heart called to hers. “I need you so much…” She whimpered and curved into him, reacting to the flick of his finger. He bowed his back to stare deeper into her eyes, which were so luminous even in the darkness, and never left his. Not the first time she came. Or the second. Or the third.

“I want to look at you…at all of you…” Lana whispered when she caught her breath. “Wes, will you let me take care of you?” They switched positions and she eased down onto him, and he couldn’t help thrusting up the minute she was fully on him, just wanting to hear those tiny noises he got her to make. She did almost immediately. Wes smiled and she leaned, letting her hair cascade onto his face as she pinned his wrists down on either side of him, touching her lips just gently to his.

“Don’t move, Wes. Let me take care of you.” She licked the corners of his mouth, ran her tongue over the shape of his lips, and bit down softly on his chin, and then she did it all over again; she denied him a full kiss every time, and it was the sexiest thing he’d ever experienced. His impatience took over, and he broke her rule, pushing into her so hard, he raised his hips off the ground. His entire body stung with restless, tingly desire. Trembling, he groaned when the warmth of her mouth collided with his chest and neck, and he wanted to touch her so badly as she propelled her hips forward. Her hold on his wrists tightened, and he could have lifted his arms easily, but he let her have her fun as she rocked her hips against him.

With their gazes locked, Lana fucked him like he fucked her. Same intensity, same ferocity, same mind-blowing rush that resulted in her having to press a hand over his mouth as she squeezed every last bit of his orgasm out of him until she collapsed at his side, and they were both breathless, worn, sated. Too tired to move any more than necessary, Wes rolled to his stomach and pulled her against him. Lana’s folded leg came to rest on top of his, her head tucked beneath his chin. Wes tilted his head to kiss the top of hers.
I want it to always be like this,
he thought as he drifted off.

The early morning practice and competition routine forced his eyes open at dawn when a glowing streak of orange stretched across an ashen blue sky, but he shut them again. It was quiet but for the soft touch of the ocean to the shore. Wes swatted at something brushing his cheek, and a high-pitched giggle ripped through the cabana.
Lana,
he thought as he opened his eyes slowly to her lovely smile. Her knees were nestled into the fetal curve of his body, and she touched his cheek suddenly; he’d found the culprit.

“Good morn—you okay?” he said.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you...not really. I was just…” Her cheeks flushed bright red, fleeting embarrassment crossing her face then clearing when she spoke again. “And who asks a smiling person if they’re okay?”

“The person being smiled at while he was sleeping,” he said with a smirk. “Come here, you weirdo.” Wes planted a soft kiss on her lips. “What were you doing? Drawing me again? Do you have some kind of crazy Wes Elliott shrine in your closet? Were you picking out strands of my hair for your Wes doll?”

Lana giggled. “Does it bother you that I draw you…?”

“No, of course not. I was just teasing you.”

She smiled but it was reserved. “…I draw you because I think you’re beautiful, too, Wes. I just haven’t been able to get it right. And I’m not sure I really can.”

Chapter 8 In Your Head

After Lana and the rest of his friends left Tahiti, Wes spent another few days there with Abel and their cameraman filming around the island before he headed to Bora Bora for more surf footage. Cell coverage was spotty where he was surfing, so he and Lana went the entire time without talking, and it was the longest they had gone without talking since they first met. Without her, he felt the drought, and the days dragged as he waited to get back to the States.

On the long trip to Los Angeles, he was still at a loss when it came to figuring out how to bring up the transition of their casual relationship to something
more
; he didn’t want to just assume they were moving in that direction. But he had also memorized the look on her face the night in the cabana. The sweet, vulnerable expression when she had said, “I need you so much.” Just caught up in the whirlwind of a passionate moment? He wanted to assume that, but the night had felt different, something at the very core of him just sensed a shift. Had
been
sensing it.

Wes sent Lana a text to let her know he was back, and she responded by saying she was in Mexico with Grayson, and that she would see him when she got back. He slept off his travels for nearly three days straight, and Lana did not text him during that time, and he assumed that they had decided to stay a few days longer. It gave him a chance to focus on training again since, without her, he had more free time. Bali was quite a ways away, but he wanted his workouts to get more intense and frequent, so Ian divided his time between rehabbing Abel and putting Wes through rigorous outdoor training for upper body conditioning. He was drawn to his phone during the breaks between workout reps, hoping for her call, but it was as though everyone except Lana was contacting him.

After an entire week of not hearing from her and missing her, Wes plucked a Steinbeck from his shelf and drove to her apartment. His excitement to see her skyrocketed when he arrived and spotted her bike out front. Grayson opened the door when Wes knocked, and he turned timid the minute he saw Wes. It confused him that Grayson would react with apprehension over someone he saw quite frequently, but Wes decided not to wander into any irrational suspicion.

Grayson gulped down several times before he even greeted him, and he smiled but his reticence never really vanished. “Hi, Wes.” He made no offer to let him step into the apartment, and he even pulled the door against his body as he hovered in the doorway.

“Hey, Grayson, is Lana here?”

He cleared his throat. “Uh, no…she headed out pretty early this morning with a friend from
Vices.
I, uh, think they were going to the beach and…she hasn’t been back yet. Did you try her cell?”

“Yeah.”
For days.

Grayson continued with his gulping then ticked his head at the book clutched in Wes’ hand. “Is that for her? You can leave it. I’ll make sure she gets it.” Then came obnoxious throat clearing to compete with the gulping.

Wes raised his eyebrows.
He’s lying.
Grayson’s eyes must’ve shifted a million times in the silence, and
Wes smiled big, even as betrayal scorched like rug burn in his throat. He narrowed his eyes on him. “Yeah, but can you grab a pen and paper so I can leave her a note?”

“I can just tell her…”

“Nah…I need to leave the note,” Wes challenged in the kind of tone that indicated he wasn’t budging. Grayson didn’t know Wes’ biggest weakness, his need to always compete and win, but if he didn’t go get the pen and paper soon, he would find out just how long Wes was willing to stand out there. Grayson retreated into the apartment, and before he could shut the door behind him, Wes spotted Lana’s keys on the end table near the entry. He recognized the
Vices Hollywood
keychain and the Harley bike key.

The realization was like ice water to the face, and it set his heart racing.
She doesn’t want to see me.
And she had recruited her roommate.
Why?
The betrayal morphed into hurt and confusion, which he shoved down into the pit of his stomach with the clench of his teeth, just as Grayson returned.

“Here you go!” he said with exaggerated enthusiasm as he shoved the pen and paper into Wes’ hands. Like before, he was blocking the inside of the apartment with his body. Wes chuckled in bitterness. He jotted down,
I know she’s here,
handed the note back to Grayson and gave him
The Winter of Our Discontent
, too. He watched Grayson’s eyes stretch in what looked like embarrassment and then remorse after he read the note. He didn’t look back up to meet Wes’ gaze again after the brief glance up, and Wes let him drown in several minutes of silence.

They both froze when her laughter rolled into the room from behind her closed door followed by a male’s voice. Forget ice water, it was like taking a wrecking ball to the gut. Hearing her laugh, that laugh he loved so much, caused a fissure of sadness right through his insides. He remained composed on the surface though, as instinct forced his eyes to move in the direction of the sound for a beat while Grayson flinched. He flushed so red when Wes looked back at him, he thought Grayson would pass out. The truth would’ve stung him just as much but he still would’ve preferred it.

“I…” Grayson shook his head and embarrassment had him wringing his hands. “Wes, she—”

Wes scoffed and cut him off. “I guess I don’t owe you that favor anymore,” he said, capping off the sentence with an acerbic smile as he turned to go.

*

The shock of her avoidance of him followed Wes for days, and on the ride back to his place from the airport after picking up Dylan, she was clearly aware of his moodiness, which he was making no attempt to disguise. At least working out during the week was absorbing most of how he felt. By the time he got home after training, he was usually too exhausted to be sad and irritated.

Even though Dylan had offered to skip out on the rapper Pitbull’s show tonight in L.A, Wes was against that as he figured going would take his mind off Lana’s dismissal. But could you really dismiss someone whom you had no obligation and commitment to?
Yes, because we’re supposed to be friends, and our last night together was amazing. Was that her plan? Had she meant for things to end that night?

“Wes?” Dylan called to him from the kitchen. “Since for once you guys have food, I’m going to bake some chicken and make French fries really quick because I’ll need something in my stomach to absorb the alcohol later. You want in?”

“Yup.” He swung his head around from the couch and made an effort to push past his malaise. “Whoa. My boy has you all domestic these days?” he asked with a smile. “Again, I ask why haven’t you made an honest man out of Kai White, Dyl? I keep thinking all these delay tactics are so you can ask me if I’ll be your last bachelorette romp and the answer will always be ‘Why didn’t you ask me already?’”

“Wes!” Dylan giggled as she put her hair into a ponytail. “You’re terrible. And…that’s. Gross.” She held a playful expression of disgust on him.

“Look, Kai already knows he’s just a placeholder until me and you make this thing happen.”

“Shut up. Speaking of, I have an extra ticket for tonight because Kai originally thought he was coming. Do you want to invite Lana or something?”

Wes clenched his jaw and turned back to the TV show he wasn’t really watching. “Give it to Char. She should be home in a few. Last minute or not, I know she’d love to come out with us.”

“Okay.” The thing he loved about Dylan was that even if the girl were blind, she’d still spot a hint light years away, and as expected, she didn’t try to find out why he didn’t want to invite Lana; she simply dropped the subject. He wanted his mind to drop the subject, too. But that was what liquor was for, and he planned to be blitz in a few hours. He and Dylan were joking back and forth as they reminisced about frivolous things from the last year when Charlotte stepped into the house, waving a long good-bye to whomever had just dropped her off. Wes’ brow scrunched as he cast an inspecting look in Charlotte’s direction as he observed her outfit—tight, black sequined dress. But something was off about her appearance. Hair looked the same, same perky attitude, so what was it?
Her weight.
Charlotte had always been a skinny girl, but she looked tinier than before.

“Dylan!” Charlotte squealed happily, tripping forward a few steps. “Oh my God! Hi, Dylan! Hey, Wes! Hi, guys!” She giggled incessantly after she spoke.

“Are you drunk, Char?” Wes asked.

After a few seconds of trying to suppress her laughter, she said, “No…”

“Are you high?” he asked.

“Are you fucking serious? I’m just in a good mood. I had a good night.”

“Are you tired? Want to come to the Pitbull show with us?” Dylan asked.

“Oh my God! Definitely! I had been trying to win tickets on the radio for weeks. As if I needed more reasons to be jealous that your boyfriend is a rock star.”