Page 72 of Sunshine

“There you are,” Barry says as he comes up behind her, Annie’s hand held in his. “You rushed out of there so quickly.” His smile is nervous as he looks back and forth between us.

“We were just taking a moment to pray for the Bennett family,” I say, my gaze still locked on my mother. “Weren’t we?”

Her tight lips rise in a smile so forced it looks painful. “Yes,” she says after a beat. “Of course.”

I nod, satisfied.

And then I turn to walk to the car.

CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE

NOW

Wells drives me back to the ranch, one hand spread wide across my leg the whole twelve minutes it takes for us to get there. We wind up the long driveway and past the main house as he steers us toward his cabin, and my stomach flips in anticipation when it comes into view. My body is a live wire, my desire a tangible, violent thing that rocks through me.

He turns his headlights off as we approach, and the world around us disappears in the night. It takes four or five heartbeats for my eyes to adjust to the starlit slope of the cabin’s roof, to the shadowed corners of the window in the front. My cheeks burn hot as I picture us inside, exploring each other and all the things we can do under the blanket of night, tucked away from the rest of the world.

When the truck rolls to a stop, he pulls his hand from my thigh, and my skin is cold in its absence. We look at each other across the cab, nothing but the sound of shallow breathingbetween us. Even in the cover of darkness, I see his want take shape in his eyes.

We barely make it through the front door before he’s crowding me against the nearest wall. His hands tremble as he cups my face, thumb pressing roughly into my bottom lip. And then he pulls me in for a kiss that scorches me right to my core.

“Layla,” he whispers urgently against my cheek. “What I said earlier, about making a mess of this . . . I think I need to take it back.” I tilt my head back to look at him,reallylook at him. For the first time tonight, I see small traces of his fear. “If we do this, it’s going to mean something to me.” His eyes move across my face. “I need you to be sure.”

His shirt bunches in my fists as I hold him tighter, desperate to make him feel as warm and shimmering andgoodas he’s making me feel. “I’m sure,” I breathe. “Please.”

“Okay.” He nods, slack-jawed. “Okay.” And when he slants his mouth over mine again, it feels like home.

He tastes me like he’s been deprived . . . like I’m his first meal in years. Our tongues slide together as I catch his groan in my throat. I press myself further into him, wind my arms around his neck and pull him in deeper—I want to coax another groan out of him so I can taste it again.

“Tell me how to do this.” He drags his teeth across my jaw as his hand ghosts up my back, pulling a shiver out of my bones.

It’s a soft demand that throbs through me. But I don’t know how to articulate the ache that’s winding tight enough to be just on the edge of pain. “I . . . I—” I can’tthink.

“Tell me what you like. Be selfish.”

“Selfish?” I ask, mind spinning.

His eyes drop to my mouth, to my neck. “Soselfish, Layla.Please.” He presses his lips to my mouth, less of a kiss and more of a fix. “Tell me how to please you.” His hand spreads over my ribs as he not-so-gently pushes me further into the wall—he’s coming undone, and it knocks me off my mental ledge. “Tell me how to make you feel good.”

I nod. “Touch me.”

He grunts, the hand on my ribs squeezing. “Where?”

I slide my palm over the back of his hand and guide it down to my thighs, slipping it beneath my dress and between my legs where he already had me with his mouth. “Here,” I say, and then gasp as his fingers curl into me, pushing against my panties.

“Fuck.” He kisses me hard as his fingers plunge a second time. “I want to make you come again,” he murmurs. “Show me how you like this.”

When I circle my fingers against myself, his focus sharpens. His gaze drops, and he lifts the hem of my dress to watch what I’m doing. It nearly sends me to the moon to see him look at me the way he does. “Like this,” I force out.

“Hm,” he hums. His eyes rise to meet mine, shining and steadfast. “My turn.”

His hand replaces mine as he sucks against my neck, and I close my eyes in euphoria. The edges of my vision blur as his fingertips sink deeper into my skin. His teeth rake against my jaw as his hips pin mine to the wall, and I want him to leave a mark.

He looks at me with a reverence I’ve never seen before, and I know it for what it is: the secret that’s been buried in the layers of his heart for so long. Everything he’s been clutching so tight for his best friend’s girl.

Wells keeps a perfect rhythm against mewith his fingers, and I know it won’t be long before I’m collapsing at his feet. He reaches with his free hand to pull the strap of my dress down over my shoulder, exposing a sliver of my bare nipple, and goes utterly still when he sees it.

“Are you bare under this dress, Layla?” he asks, swiping his fingers roughly between my legs.

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