Page 52 of Entwined Hearts
I turned to look at Stewart, who was groaning on the floor, clutching his bloody nose. “In case it’s still unclear to you, this is me declining your proposal, you piece of shit. Officially,” I said, voice shaking.
“Now get the fuck out of here, you asshole.” Delilah dumped out her drink on him and threw her arm around my shoulder, walking me out.
Outside, I ran to Weston, who was shaking his hand out, knuckles raw. Our bodies collided with a thud, and he hugged me instantly, his arms tight around me as if he couldn’t bear to let go.
“What were you thinking?” I yelled, shoving him. “He’s going to press charges, you know.”
He was sweaty, breathing hard. “I don’t care.” He cradled my face, eyes intense with devotion. “Over my dead body does someone speak to you like that and get away with it.”
My heart swelled as I looked into his eyes. Those gorgeous dark blue eyes I’d spent countless hours of my life gazing into. Countless hours missing. And I suddenly realized I didn’t have to keep missing them. He was right here, waiting for me to catch up.
And I finally had.
So I kissed him. I kissed him in front of our families in the parking lot of the Bull Pen like my life depended on it. And just like every other time I’d kissed him, my mind went blissfully silent. The only thing left was him, and the way I loved him with every piece of me.
“Oh, that’s hot,” Delilah said. And there was a giggle that sounded a lot like Tess.
I smiled against Weston’s lips, heat rushing to my cheeks. “Take me home,” I told him, biting my lip.
Weston’s eyes widened slightly before he looked around. “I need keys,” he said, but no one moved. “Someone give me their keys!”
I buried my face in his neck, chuckling, not wanting to see the look on everyone’s faces. Maybe never even see them again afterthis, knowing they knew exactly what we were leaving to do. Or what I hoped we’d do, anyway.
I was tired of fighting this, fighting the inevitable. I needed to feel something other than the shame Stewart made me feel. And Weston had always made me feel safe and desired. Cherished and loved.
And the longer I stood here with his hands on me, the more I wanted that feeling. Wanted him.
I climbed into Delilah’s Jeep, not daring to look at anyone as Weston ran to the other side, climbing into the driver’s seat.
“You wreck my car, Weston Tate, and I’ll rip your dick off,” she said before he could shut the door. “After you use it on my bestie, of course.”
“Oh my God.” I slid down my seat, covering my face in mortification. “I can never show my face in this town again.” Weston only laughed and peeled out of the parking lot, his hand on my thigh.
“You okay?” he asked once we were on the main road towards Golden Circle.
I intertwined our hands. “I am now.” And just like he had last night, and hundreds of other times before, he brought my hand to his lips and kissed my hand.
It was nothing, and yet it meant everything.
Neither one of us spoke after that, content in the silence. But by the time we skidded to a stop in front of his house, I was anything but content. I was desperate for him in a way I’d never felt before. I wanted to climb over into the driver’s seat and ride him until he couldn’t see straight.
The air was so thick I could hardly breathe, the tension so tight it felt like it could snap at any second. He put Delilah’s Jeep in park and let out a long, shaky breath as if he felt it too.
Next thing I knew, I was crawling over the center console, my lips latched onto Weston’s. He groaned low and deep as Istraddled him, a sound of relief I felt in the marrow of my bones. He was already rock hard, his kisses urgent and messy and full of pent-up longing. Each one carrying the weight of every year we’d spent apart.
My head lolled back as he kissed down my neck and along my chest, leaving his mark. “I’ve been wanting to do this all fucking day,” he rasped against my skin, kneading my breasts in his hands. “All decade, actually.”
“More,” I groaned, rocking my hips into his.
Fabric shredding filled the car. I looked down, a shaky breath leaving me. He had ripped my shirt straight down the middle. He lowered his face between the valley of my breasts, and I shuddered as he ran his tongue in a long, hot swipe along my sternum.
Weston’s hands were scorching as they slid along my ribs and to my back, my bra clasp undone in a half second. “That used to take you a lot longer,” I chuckled breathily.
“Been mentally preparing for this for a decade, Savannah,” he murmured between teasing licks and kisses along my neck that made me shiver. “Nothing could stop me from getting you naked tonight.”
Heat pooled between my legs. I shrugged my shirt off, my bra following quickly. Normally, I’d be nervous baring myself to someone like this, wondering what they’d think of my body. But not with Wes. Never with Wes.
He licked his lips, eyes lust-filled and locked on my chest. “Jesus Christ, how did they get better?” he groaned, lowering his mouth to one of my nipples.
