Page 17 of Entwined Hearts
It was the first time he spoke to me after walking through the door, and he was talking about cock. That was so on brand that I couldn’t help but grin at him. “No,” I replied, chuckling, and his smile widened.
Delilah snickered into her beer. “Does that mean the thing has a red cock?”
“I don’t think woodpeckers have cocks, Delilah,” Claire said, giggling and finally seeming relaxed since finding out about this. “Or birds in general.”
“There’s a baby present!” Anna reminded everyone with a frantic yet amused look.
“Mama, what’s a cock?” Henry asked, making everyone laugh hysterically.
But I just stared at Weston, both of us smiling in the laughter that surrounded us.
Anna had just pressedleftovers into my arms when Weston appeared at my side. He somehow felt taller and broader now, but maybe that was because the last time we were this close, he was a boy who thought he was a man, and now he truly was a man in every sense of the word. A man who smelled fantastic. He didn’t smell like Axe body spray anymore, but something expensive and seductive and far too tempting.
Weston cleared his throat awkwardly, his voice low, “Can we talk for a minute?”
Anna’s eyes darted between us while I silently begged her not to go, but she left anyway. She was lucky she was pregnant, or I’d drag her back over here.
I licked my dry lips and turned to face him fully, my grip on the Tupperware tightening. “What is it?”
His gaze roamed all over my face, lingering on my lips, before meeting my stare again. “Outside, where we can get some privacy?”
I glanced into the living room, and everyone turned quickly, pretending they weren’t watching us like overprotective parents. “I can’t. Claire is about to leave.”
“I’ll drive you home.” The idea of sitting in a car alone with him right now felt like exposure therapy that’d take me weeks to get over. Thank God it wasn’t possible anyway.
I straightened, lifting my chin at him. “Nice try, slick. You can’t drive for another three weeks at least.”
He arched a brow, smirking, and I knew I messed up. “Doing research, are we?” His gaze ran over me, that smirk deepening, and I squirmed. “You always did have to know all the details.”
The time I read over the back of the condom wrapper before we slept together the first time immediately popped into my head, and the heated look in his eyes told me he was thinking of the same thing.
Mortified, I opened my mouth to respond, then shut it again, heat crawling up my neck. He just looked more pleased with himself the more flustered I got.
Looking to the foyer, desperate, I found Claire and Emmett heading to the door. “I’ve got to go,” I said, simultaneously thankful and regretful for the escape. “I’ll see you later,” I added over my shoulder.
I felt his eyes on me the entire way out the door as I practically sprinted to Claire’s truck, my heart pounding. There was no way I could’ve talked to him. Not when we were under a microscope like that. Not when he still got me flustered that easily. Maybe next time would be better. Easier. But the way my body hummed with anticipation told me it’d be anything but.
Two in themorning rolled around, and I still couldn’t stop thinking about Weston fucking Tate and that stupid smirk on his stupid face.
It was the same smirk he gave me when he’d take a bite of my ice cream when I wasn’t looking, or when he dared me to skinny dip in the creek that late summer night when I was seventeen.
A shiver ran down my spine when I thought about what happened after we got out of the water. My eyes drifted shut, my breathing quickening as I pictured the dark gleam in his eyes as he took in my body and the way he laid me down on the shore. The way he kept making sure I was okay. The way he touched me, the way he held me, and kissed me like his life depended on it.
We had fooled around before that, but never went all the way. That night, though, I had told him not to stop, and it turned out to be the most special night of my life.
I rolled over, groaning into my pillow. I shouldn’t be thinking about him like that when I didn’t even know who he wasanymore, and Idefinitelyshouldn’t want him when I didn’t know where my relationship with Stewart stood; I needed to figure that out soon.
But for now, my mind wandered back to Weston.
Would he still be gentle and unsure like he was back then? Or rough and urgent after years apart? I could only imagine the kinds of things a guy as attractive as him picked up from the hordes of women he had probably slept with in the last decade.
The thought of him with other women made my stomach turn. So I thought of just him. I wondered if things would be the same, like the way he tasted, the way he moaned as he came, if his words would still melt me. Or if there’d be differences, like how his body was bulkier and stronger now, so could he throw me around easier? Would he want to?
My hips rolled against my bed involuntarily as if my body was begging to find out. My hand slipped between me and the mattress, and I couldn’t even feel guilty when I discovered how wet I was.
It was always so good with him. And for a while, I thought it had been because he was my first, but no, it was because he was Weston. The context never mattered; Weston was the best I’d ever had, and it infuriated me.
It was too easy to picture him cornering me, a hungry look in those dark blue eyes I looked into only hours ago. Too easy to hear him utter the words, “You’re mine, angel,” like he had a hundred times before. Too easy to remember the feel of his lips on mine. On my skin. Too easy to picture the smile he gave me earlier.
