Page 35 of Him
Asshole.
I grind my molars as I watch them exchange numbers. Well then. I guess they’re going to meet up again. So much for getting to spend the summer reconnecting with my best friend.
Wes doesn’t say anything as we head for the exit. The music in the bar had been too loud to hear what was happening outside, but when we step out the door, we find ourselves in the middle of a torrential downpour.
A cold gust of rain slaps me in the face, soaking my clothes in seconds. “Shit. Run to the car?” I shout over the deafening pounding of the rain hitting the pavement.
Wes stays put. His expression is as thunderous as the weather. “What the hell was that?”
I can barely hear him over the wind and rain. “What?”
“You acted like a total douchecanoe in there.” Then he stalks away, his boots splashing the puddles forming on the asphalt.
The little awning spanning the side of the building does nothing to protect us from the rain. Our clothes are plastered to our bodies. Water clings to my hair and drips down my face as I hurry after him.
“I was the one acting like a douchecanoe?” I yell after him.
He stops, spins around to face me. “Yes. Jesus, dude, the way you treated that guy, you’d think he was carrying the Ebola virus.”
“Maybe I just didn’t appreciate the way he was pawing you right in front of me!” I shoot back.
Wes’s mouth falls open. “What?”
My mouth slams shut. Jesus fuck. Why did I say that?
“I mean…” I swallow. “It was rude.”
Wes stares at me. Droplets run down his chiseled face, catching in the beard growth shadowing his jaw. His lips are slightly parted. I can’t stop looking at them.
“What is happening right now?” he asks slowly.
Misery lodges in my throat. I don’t know. I honestly don’t know what’s happening. The rain falls harder. A flash of lightning slices through the black sky. I should be cold, but I’m not. My body feels like a furnace. Three beers shouldn’t be having this effect on me.
Maybe it’s him? Maybe he’s making me hot?
Wes’s tongue darts out to lick at the raindrops on his bottom lip, and I catch a glimpse of his tongue ring. It wasn’t there when we were eighteen. It wasn’t there when his tongue had circled the head of my cock the night he gave me the best BJ of my life.
And there it is.
Ryan Wesley had given me the best BJ of my life.
“Canning…” He trails off, watching me again. He looks uneasy, but…there’s something else in his gaze. A flicker of confusion. A hint of interest.
I take a step closer, but I’m not sure why. My heart is pounding harder than the rain. My eyes are glued to his mouth.
“Jamie.” A note of warning this time.
I suck a gulpful of oxygen into my lungs.
Then I ignore the warning.
His eyes widen as I shove my fingers through his hair and tug his head closer. “What—”
He doesn’t get to finish that sentence, because I’m smashing my mouth against his.
14
Wes
