Page 89 of Better Than the Movies
Which made me wonder.
If my mom had still been alive, would she have changed her tune by now on the whole bad-boy thing? It seemed to me thatbecauseof things like car accidents and lost loves, life and death and broken hearts, we should grab every moment and absolutely devour the good parts. Wouldn’t she want that? For me to ad-libmy life instead of living by some typed-in-twelve-point-Courier-New script?
“He’ll be here in ten minutes.” Wes dropped his phone into the cupholder and turned his eyes on me. “I am so sorry, Lib.”
I suppressed a shiver and wondered if he’d meant to call me that. He usually only said it when he was teasing, but this time it’d been personal. Intimate. Almost as if we really were a thing. My voice didn’t sound right as I said, “No worries—you didn’t drive me headfirst into a tree, so we’re good.”
That made his face soften. “Good.”
I rolled in my lips and felt nervous, mostly because I really, really, really wanted to tell him how I felt and what I wanted. I took a deep breath and said, “Wes.”
“Hey. Your curls are back.” His brown eyes narrowed a little and his lips turned up. “I think I’ve missed them.”
He started to lift his hand, like he was going to touch my wet hair, but then he didn’t.
Disappointment shot through me as I breathed around a laugh. “Weren’t you the one who demanded I straighten my hair?”
“I was.” His skin was wet from the rain too—obviously—and a drop was poised to tumble off the tip of his nose. Those brown eyes traveled all over my face, dipping over my eyes and cheeks and mouth before he said in a hoarse, deep voice, “And I think I regret all of it. I miss your clothes and curly hair. You look best when you’re you.”
You look best when you’re you.Oh, God.
We were so close, lips mere inches away as we sat face-to-face on his front seat. I felt like there was no one else in the world, nothing but me and Wes in the steamy-windowed cab of his car as the rain cocooned us in showers. I wanted him to lean in and kiss me—I wanted it so badly—but I knew he wouldn’t.
How did I know?
Because I’d spent my entire life making sure Wes Bennett knew just how much I would never-ever-ever want him to kiss me. I said on a breath, “Gee, thanks, Bennett.”
His voice was quiet when he said, “I mean it.”
And then I kissed him.
Going for it, I slid my arms around his neck and pressed my lips against his, turning my head just a little and scooting my hips over on the bench seat. The smell of his cologne mixed with the smell of the rain, and he was all around me.
Wes was frozen for a second, unmoving as my mouth rested against his mouth. The thought that he might not want to kiss me crossed my mind too late. Could I retreat and play this off? Do a wholeOops, I was unbalanced from the accident and fell on your mouth with my mouthbit?
And then, as if struck by lightning, Wes inhaled and his hands tightened on the sides of my face. He was kissing me back. I was kissing Wes Bennett, and he was kissing me.
It went from breathily timid to scalding hot in an instant.
He angled his head and kissed me the way Wes was supposed to kiss, wild and sweet and entirely overconfident all at the sametime. He knew exactly what he was doing as his big hands slid into my hair, but it was the shudder in his breath and the slight tremor in his touch that I drew on. The fact that he felt as out of control as I felt.
Wes slid me even closer to him on the seat, so we were pressed chest-to-chest. For the first time in my life, I understood how people could just forget where they were and have wild, indiscriminate sex in the front seat of a car. I wanted to wrap my legs around his waist, climb all over him, and explore everything that had ever been done with two bodies. And I was still (sort of) a virgin.
I couldn’t stop my hands from going everywhere as I got lost in the all-encompassing everything of our moment. I slid them under his hoodie as his teeth nipped at my bottom lip, and then they were on his face, feeling the rigid solidity of his jawline while he kissed me like it was his job and he wanted a raise. He made a sound when I dug my hands into his hair—like he liked it—and I wanted it to rain like that forever and never stop.
It wasn’t until he said my name—whispered it into my mouth—three times that I came back to reality.
“Liz.”
“Hmmm?” I opened my eyes but my vision was kind of unfocused. I smiled when I saw his pretty face so close to mine. “What?”
His dark eyes were heavy-lidded as he said, “I think my dad’s here.”
“What?” I felt totally out of it as I blinked up at him and hishand moved slowly back and forth on my lower back. I don’t think I would’ve heard or noticed if a pack of wild dogs had run by.
Then I saw the headlights next to his car.
“Oh.” I took a deep breath and ran a hand over my hair, squinting as the too-bright light illuminated everything. I whispered, “Shit.”
