Faith, Honor & Freedom (11 page)

“What’s it going to take to get you to come visit us? Lana too. Your uncle and I sure do miss you both.”

“I’ll try, I promise. Things are just a bit hectic here.”

“All right, all right,” she sulks. I watch as Lana emerges from her house and locks her front door.

“I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know.”

“Have a good night Weston. I love you.”

“Love you too, Patti,” I say as I hang up the phone. Lana throws her overnight bag into the backseat.

“Who was that?” she asks.

“Patti.”

“Let me guess, she’s jealous,” she says with a smile.

“Yeah, she wants you to come visit sometime soon. She and Uncle Ned miss you, too.”

“I’d like that,” she says, pulling on her belt.

Lana in a bikini? Maybe I should plan the trip sooner rather than later.

Chapter 8

I yawn, feeling exhausted, but refusing to give in. I had to beg Hoss to watch
Safe Haven,
promising I’d stay awake for it. He pointed out that I always fall asleep anyway, so what did it matter which movie we watched. In the end I won. I glance over at him, eyes partially open. He’s incredibly handsome when he’s relaxed, and right now the light stubble on his jawline enhances his masculine qualities in such a way that I’m almost awestruck by how affected I am by him.

He’s changed into a tight white t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. Even if he is my best friend, I have to admit, he looks incredibly sexy at the moment. He must feel my gaze on him, because he turns my way and gives me a genuine smile. They’re few and far between for Hoss, so I take it in, appreciating the way it changes his face into something that much more beautiful. I turn away, trying to stay awake, but it’s no use. I fall asleep, dreaming good thoughts.

I wake to the feel of fingers running through my hair. It feels so good, I almost fall back to sleep. That is, until I realize I’m not at home in my own warm bed. I turn and look around, realizing quickly that I’m at Hoss’s condo. I glance over at the television, but the screen is now black. I look up to find Hoss staring down at me, still running his fingers through my hair. He’s sitting up, but I’m stretched across the couch, my head resting in his lap.

“You fell asleep, Sunshine, just like I knew you would,” he says in a throaty voice.

“Sorry,” I mumble, sleepily.

“That’s okay, I enjoyed it anyway,” he says, and I have to wonder if he meant the movie or something else.

He doesn’t leave me wondering long, though; he bends down and places a gentle kiss on my lips. It’s so unlike Hoss that I actually pull away.

“What was that?” I ask sleepily, wondering if I’m still dreaming.

“I just had to, at least once,” he says longingly. I shoot up from his lap, wondering what sort of alternate universe I just entered.

“What do you mean,” I ask, sitting on my knees, turned toward him on the couch.

He looks at me for a good long minute. It looks as though he’s about to say something, but instead, leans in the few inches to my face, and pulls me in for another kiss. I’m stunned again, wondering if I should be pulling back and slapping his face, or kissing him back, to see what over a decade of intense practice gets you. I part my mouth slightly, and let curiosity win over.

His tongue reaches in and sweeps over mine eagerly; he lifts his hand to the back of my neck and draws me in closer. It heats up quickly, and soon I feel a deep yearning rise up in the pit of my stomach. My nipples harden, and my core starts aching for his touch. I grab a hold of his other hand and slide it up under my shirt, desperate to feel his warm skin on all of my sensitive areas. His hand inches up slowly, and then quickly pulls it back down and out of my shirt. He breaks our kiss, and looks at me with a pained expression on his face.

“I can’t Lana,” he says, and I feel my body scream at the rejection. I remember the email in his office from Emma.

“Is it Emma?” I ask. He looks at me confused.

“What? No, it’s not Emma. It’s not anyone.”

“Then shut up and kiss me, Weston,” I breathe, desperate to finish what we started. I grab his hand, and slip it back under my shirt.
Does he not want me?
I look down between his thighs and see the thick length bulging underneath. He tilts my chin, back up to his face.

“Of course I fucking want you,” he says, answering my unspoken question. With that, I decide to take control of the situation. He’s already changed our relationship from the first kiss, what’s it matter if we take it any further? My body is buzzing, aching for him, and I’m ready to give in. I climb onto his lap, so that I’m facing him, and pull my shirt up over my head.

He lets out an exasperated “Fuck,” before bringing both hands up over the lacy black cups of my bra. He places his hand on the back of my neck again and brings me to his lips roughly, his mouth working almost violently against my own. I feel the wetness pool between my legs as he grabs a hold of me, keeping his lips pressed against mine. I whimper, scared that he’s going to stop—scared that the embarrassment and shame is going to take hold before we even have a chance to explore this.

He carries me down the hallway and to his bedroom, laying me gently on the bed. I can’t believe this is actually happening. I’m so close to finally finding out what I’ve been missing all of these years. He climbs over top of me and pulls his lips from mine, growling.

He seems to be just as aroused as I am, and it fuels me. He pushes the cup of my bra down, and latches on, sucking hard and fast. I feel an orgasm start to build quickly, and decide to let go of everything that’s holding me back. He pulls the other bra cup down and rolls my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I cry out, thrusting my hips into him. I reach down to the bottom of his shirt, and pull it up and over his head.

Fuck me.
His body is hard and toned in the most aesthetically pleasing way. I reach out and run my fingers along his abdomen, scraping my nails lightly, wanting to see my touch against his tanned flesh. My hands reach down into the defined V, dipping into his sweat pants.

“Fuck Lana,” he growls. “I can’t.”

He brings his eyes back to mine, and I see the agony in them. I pull my hands from his chest and stare back at him, biting my lip. Does he really hate this so much? His cock is still forming a tent in his pants, but his mind seems to be screaming against it. I’m so close I can taste the orgasm.

“Weston, just once,” I plead, desperate for him to touch me again. “Please, just once, and I’m gone.” I have no idea why I’m begging him, but the thought of him stopping now has me terrified. He kissed me! He had wanted me, if only for a brief moment. He can’t stop this now!

Subconsciously, I have wanted this to happen for the past twelve years. I need to see what all of the fuss is about—why he can use women and have them crawling back for more. Maybe there’s something more there, too, but I’m never going to find out if he keeps pushing me away. This is something tangible, and I need to explore it.

I watch as his chest rises and falls as he fights the internal battle raging within himself.

“Are you sure you’re not with Emma? Or anyone else?” I ask again, scared to know the answer.

He shakes his head no. “Aren’t you with Alec?” he asks in a raspy voice.

I shake my head no. We’ve seen each other a few times, but we’re not dating. We have never discussed exclusivity, and the way tonight is going, I’m almost ready to say screw Alec. I’ve never felt this way about him, or anyone, before. Maybe it’s just because Hoss is familiar, I know I love him already; I’m just not in love with him.

His breathing slows, and he pushes me back on the bed, hovering above me. He pulls my pants and thong off in one swift motion, remaining down low near my wet, naked flesh.

“Lana,” he breathes, gazing down at my pussy. I feel every drop of blood rush to the area, and I’m hyperaware of his finger trailing along my thigh. He begins blowing his hot breath against me, tormenting me, before he places a gentle kiss against my clit. I let out a whimper of frustration and am rewarded when his mouth greedily crashes down on my core. I clench, as an orgasm nears. His tongue swirls and laps against my clit before he pushes inside of me.

I call out “Weston,” as my climax ravages my body. I lay breathless, trying to slow my breathing, but he doesn’t stop. The second cataclysmic release pulses through me, tightening and then relaxing every muscle in my body. I feel tears form in the corner of my eyes from the sheer intensity. My toes curl, and I squirm beneath him, wondering if my body can handle any more.

With a final nibble, he moves back up, capturing my mouth for another kiss. I taste my salty orgasm against his lips, and can’t help but smile. He gave me that, twice. I’ve never come twice in the same night before. I reach down and pull his pants as far off as I can get them before using my foot to push them the rest of the way down, and off of his legs. I feel his cock throbbing along the length of my stomach, and reach down to touch it, but he stops me, pinning my hands above my head. I squirm in protest, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Keeping my arms pinned with one hand, he reaches into his side drawer with the other and pulls out a condom. He rips it open, sheathing himself before looking down at me nervously. We lay there panting, staring into each other’s eyes as if to give a final consent. He must see my eager approval, as he enters me in one swift movement. His eyes roll back, in what I’m hoping is pleasure, as my body stretches to accommodate him. He stays still for a moment, as I clench around him feeling full, complete. I could probably make myself come again with just a few kegels, but I wait for him to move.

“Fuck Lana, so tight,” he says huskily.

I pull my lip in between my teeth, scared that maybe I’m too tight. I can definitely count on both hands the times I have had sex. Damn it, I must look like an idiot. I start to squirm underneath him, moving to get away, but he starts thrusting inside of me, and I abandon all attempts at escape. He leans down and takes my breast into his mouth again, sucking hard, and swirling his tongue in tight circles.
Incredible.
He pulls back and begins to slam into me hard and fast, over and over again.

I come again, screaming his name, and feel him shudder his release as his thrusting slows, and he comes inside of me. He collapses on top of me, and immediately I feel the blush coming from head to toe.
What the hell did we just do?

Weston pulls back so I can see his face, and all I can see is regret and anger. I immediately feel ashamed. Not only am I one of the hundreds he’s fucked, but I must be on the bottom of that list, too. Clearly the pleasure was one sided … but he came, didn’t he? I’m almost positive.

He rolls off me without a word and walks into his bathroom. If I weren’t so upset, the fact that his ass was absolutely perfect would have probably excited me. Maybe I would have even jumped him again, but at this moment, all I can wonder is what I did wrong.

I spring from the bed and dress quickly, wondering what to say when he comes back. My mind is screaming at me to run far away, but my lady bits are screaming that it was the most incredible sex I’ve ever had, and that I should be begging him for another romp, even though I’m sore, and he clearly didn’t enjoy it as much as I did. I hate that this moment has now been ruined by insecurities and unanswered questions.

I hear the bathroom door creak open and watch as he walks out, looking as though he’s just come from a funeral. My heart breaks, but my mind is screaming,
good, this is what you need to close the door forever.

“Hey,” I say, greeting him awkwardly.

“Look, Lana, I have to go,” he mumbles, grabbing some clothes from his drawer.

“What do you mean? Did you get called in to work?” I ask hopefully. Any explanation would be better than the fact that he just didn’t enjoy it.

“No, I just need to go. I’ll lock up on my way out, but please, stay here tonight. I’ll have someone come get you in the morning.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, angrily. He pulls his shirt over his head and makes his way into the hallway. Seriously, I can handle being a bad lay, but we were friends before this happened.
Good friends!
The least I deserve is an explanation. I pull on my shirt and chase after him. “Weston, what do you mean?” I watch as his head hangs, in what I can only assume is shame.

“That should have never happened Lana.”

“I know that, but honestly, you’ve slept with hundreds of women before. Was I that bad?” I ask incredulously. Yes, I am pretty inexperienced, but honestly I’ve never received any complaints in that department.

“You have no idea what you’re fucking talking about,” he says heatedly, leaving his condo and slamming the door. I hear it lock from the outside.

I plop myself down on his couch, completely dejected. My humiliation has reached a whole new level. I place my head between my knees and let the tears fall. I have no idea why I just slept with him, but I wanted it. Hell, I had more than wanted it—I’d begged for it. He had never been sure about it. I forced this on him. My chest rises and falls as the sobs rack my body.

I lost a good friend tonight, I lost respect for myself, and most importantly it seems I have lost my mind. I think about calling Violet, but remember her sad phone call earlier. She has enough on her plate without worrying about me. This pain is my own doing, and it’s mine to bear alone. Jack and Vi are good friends with Hoss; I don’t want to put them in the middle of all this. As upset as I am with the situation, I’m not angry with him, which is shocking, considering all we ever do is fight. But how can I be? He’s done nothing wrong. He gave me everything I asked for.
Just once,
I remember pleading. I cringe at the memory.

I hear my phone ring and scramble to answer it, wiping my tears.

“Shit,” I say aloud, reading Jade’s number on the screen. I take a deep breath and hit talk.

“Hey Jade, how are you?”

“Hey Lana, I’m ah, all right. I think my water just broke.”