Page 72 of Never Been Worse

I think about that, really, then answer honestly. “No,” I say softly.

“Would I do this if I thought there was any chance we’d get caught?”

I shake my head again, because I saw the look of determination on his face the other night, the look that told me Jeremy would never be able to harm me again.

“He left with one of the account executives to New York for the day,” he says, and I open my mouth to argue, to tell him I thought he would be out of town last time, but he speaks. “I know this for sure. I have connections.Leohas connections. I did the grunt work for this, Harper.”

I stare at him and he smiles at me.

“Okay,” I say finally, and he smiles wider.

“Get to licking, little wife.” I watch as he grabs one of the candies, licks the back, and presses it to a window. It sticks easily, the cold window adhering to his warm spit. He throws one at my head, and I catch it before it hits the ground

“So this will shatter his windshield?” He nods, and I think of all the times he told me we couldn’t take his car out when there was salt on the roads or when he yelled at an old man for walking too close to it.

“If he tugs on it, yeah,” Wes says. “He can get them off without shattering it, of course. The biggest pain is going to be this.” He lifts the giant roll of plastic wrap and begins opening it.

I press the last candy to the side window, feeling it freeze almost instantly to the window while Wes sticks one end of the plastic wrap to the hood of the car, then pulls, carefully tugging and then wrapping it around the side mirror to get it started.

“Take this,” he says, handing me the roll over the hood, and I do as he asks. “Now pull and push it under the car.”

I struggle a bit, pressing the wrap to the side before pushing it under. Wes grabs it and makes our first complete wrap. I stare at our handiwork and giggle a bit. Wes’s smile is wide as he hands it to me, and I feel like we’re some devious, childish version of Bonnie and Clyde, plastic wrapping a car in petty revenge.

We do this for a while until the roll is nearly gone and the entire car is nearly white, looking absolutely ridiculous when we hear it.

The clicking of heels echoes through the freezing parking garage, and I tip my head, the roll of plastic wrap midair as Wes passes it to me. Our eyes go wide, and I fight a laugh as he tips his head to the side exaggeratedly, ripping the plastic wrap. He grabs his bag and my hand as we make a break for it.

The sneakers I’m grateful he told me to wear don’t make a noise as we move out of sight, hiding in a dark corner. Our breaths come in white clouds as I shiver, and Wes pulls me close to his body, the clacking of the heels getting louder as we stand, our bodies close, the bag at our feet. Wes’s arm is around my back, his lips not far from mine when we hear it.

“Fuck, is that Jeremy Vaughn’s car?” a woman’s voice asks.

“Yeah, I think so. That’s where he always parks,” a man says. They’re maybe fifty feet away, but with my back to them, I can’t see them.

“Must have made someone angry,” the woman says.

“Are you surprised? The guy’s an ass to everyone except Mr. Astor and Clarissa.”

“I heard he’s cheating on her,” the woman says, and I give wide eyes to Wes, who smiles at me.

“And again, I ask, are you surprised?”

“Do you think we should do something?” the woman asks as her heels click past us, walking away from the scene of our crime.

“No. He deserves it,” the man says. “Come on, I’m starving.”

My attention goes back to Wes as they walk off, his breath playing on my lips before his hand moves to my jaw, tipping my face up. He stares at me for moments that seem to stretch through an eternity. My heart races, waiting for him to kiss me as if this is the first time.

But that’s how it feels. Every time Wes Holden kisses me, it feels like the first time, something new and exciting and fun, the world shifting just a bit. And each time, he takes a piece of my heart in a way no one ever has, in a way I don’t think I’ll ever get it back.

The scariest part is I don’t think Iwantit back. I know Wes will keep all of the pieces I give him safe.

My hand moves up to his cheek as the echoes of heels drift into the distance, and I shift to my tiptoes, pressing my lips to his, unable to stop myself.

I want him. I need him.

His hand moves to my hip, pulling me in close, deepening the kiss and taking over it as he tends to do, as I love him to do. His lips move along mine, his tongue pressing to the seam of mine until I open for him, and then he slides it in. He tastes like green apple from one of the candies he stole from the bag, and I smile against his lips. He nips at my lip playfully, and a soft sigh leaves me, the move shooting straight to my belly and spreading warmth there.

“We should get out of here,” he whispers when we break the kiss, a smile on his lips. “Cameras will be turned back on soon, and I’d like to be long gone before they are.”

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