Switched: Flirt New Adult Romance (27 page)

We fog the windows of Wesley’s van probably about two seconds after we start making out. Thank heavens for tint, and for Wesley thinking to lock the doors and trap the keys inside with us. If I know Reagan, she’ll be storming outside any minute to figure out what the hell is going on.

But right now it’s only me and Wesley, and his magic lips on my skin.

“We … should really … go back inside,” he breathes between kisses to my neck and chin. “Fix the mess we made.”

“Uh-huh,” I say, but then pull his face back up to mine and hold him tighter. Yeah, we’re not going anywhere for a while. “Five more minutes.”

“I’ll take that challenge.” He smiles against my lips at the same time I smile, then we laugh.

“Wesley?” I ask, pushing him up a little to get a better look at his eyes.

His face gets puppy-dog-ish. “Please don’t tell me to stop.”

Not a chance in hell. I’m finally with someone I want to experience everything with.

“Can I take your shirt off?”

He runs his fingers down my side and hooks one into my belt loop. “Now, why would you want that?” he teases.

“Because I’ve been dying to see those nipple rings ever since you mentioned them.”

I hear a bark of laughter right before my hands cover my face. I knew I shouldn’t have asked him, but I didn’t want to go for it without knowing it was all right. So stupid, since I yanked his shirt off in a frenzy when we were “faking” it. But this seems so much sweeter. I don’t know if it’s the right moment or not, but the anticipation is killing me.

“Hey, don’t cover that sexy blush.” He lifts my fingers one by one off my face, meeting
me with dark hazel eyes. “Can I take
your
shirt off?”

“Now, why would you want that?” If possible, I’m sure I’m a shade redder, which doesn’t match my teasing response, but oh well.

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Because I’ve been thinking about it since I saw you come out of the shower on Christmas.”

“I knew you were looking!”

“Can you blame me? I wanted you even then.”

I want him to elaborate, but not now. We’re talking too much as it is. Leave it to me and Wesley to fog up the windows from talking too much, instead of from making out, like normal people.

Taking a deep breath and holding it, I wiggle my hands between our bodies and grab the bottom of my shirt. What bra did I put on? I really hope it’s the one Reagan gave me. It makes me look much bigger than I am. Suddenly I’m thinking Wesley will take one look at my chest and think he fell in love with a boy.

I clamp my eyes shut, figuring I’ve already gone this far. And if my shirt comes off, his better follow shortly after. I’m already getting all tingly where his knee is touching my leg, just thinking about having his skin on mine.

In one swift … okay, really fumbled and awkward tug, my shirt’s over my head, making my curls jump in front of my face. I open my eyes to Wesley, who blinks a couple hundred times, raking me over with this gaze I’ve never seen from anyone. We both gulp and we don’t laugh. I’m not even sure if we’re breathing.

“Your turn,” I whisper, running my nails under the hem of his shirt, caressing the tight skin across his stomach. His eyes finally move from my bare skin to meet mine, and a grin flashes on his face.

“Be careful. Sometimes they snag.”

I try to bite back my laughter, but I can’t help it. His forehead rests on mine as I work his polo off, giggling with uncontrollable excitement. It doesn’t get stuck on his nipples, but it does get stuck on his chin.

I’m actually happy I took mine off first, because I don’t feel nearly as bad for immediately ogling him since he did the same to me. The arms supporting his weight are veined and toned, and I start my journey there, grasping his triceps and tracing patterns over his muscles. He flexes and we both chuckle. I follow the curves to the bumps on his shoulders and start swirling my nails downward, drawing a line between his pecs. He does have nipple rings. I guess I only half believed him on that. I hesitate before flicking one with my pinky as my hands spread flat on his chest.

“Gah, Kayla …” He groans, losing some of his balance on his hands resting by my
head.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No. You’re driving me crazy.”

I bite back a smile and flick the other nipple ring. “Good.”

“Can I touch you now?”

“Please.”

I let my nails run from his chest down his abs. Resting my hands on his hips, I lift from the floor slightly, still trying to get that skin-to-skin contact I’ve wanted since we tossed our upper wear.

Instead he pulls back and I seriously whine at him. He lies next to me, leaning on his elbow and keeping our legs intertwined. Our torsos aren’t touching at all. I’m about to roll on my side and squeeze him to me, but my whole body becomes welded to the spot the second his finger drops to my belly button.

My fingers took a trip down his body, and it looks like his will take a trip up mine. He swirls his hand over my stomach, tickling me a tiny bit, but it’s not enough for me to recoil. When he reaches my sides, I don’t think I’ve ever felt my skin go so tight. My body starts to shudder with every stroke of his guitar-callused finger. My eyelids fall closed and my mouth pops open of its own accord. Half of my mind yells,
Don’t you dare drool!
while the other half shuts off completely.

He gets to the bottom of my bra and stops. Again I worry if maybe I’m a disappointment. That my sexy pixie vibe is really not all that cute. His hand flattens and he pulls me so I turn on my side. When I meet his eyes I think I may orgasm just off the look he gives me.

“Damn, you’re hot.”

I laugh, letting go of all my self-consciousness. He’s so eloquent. “You too.” Oh, look at that. We’re two peas in a pod.

He drops his lips on mine, but the kiss is way too short. I pout. “What’s wrong?”

His dimple creases in his chin before he sits up. I reach out to him because, hello! Where is he going?

“Nothing’s wrong. I just want you on my lap. If—if that’s all right.”

Yes, we are so smooth and so meant for each other. I ask if I can take his shirt off and he asks if I can straddle him. Reagan and Talon are going to come out here and catch us with our shirts off and asking permission to touch each other.

I get up on all fours and attempt this sexy crawl thing that probably looks ridiculous, but Wesley’s eyes are trained on mine, a semi-amused smile on his face as I make my way to him leaning against the van door, making me feel like a vixen. I half expect us to go crashing out that door when I settle my knees on either side of his thighs, just because we’re that smooth, but the
door stays firm.

Our bodies meld together like Velcro, starting from our hips and up to our chests. I have to stay as high as I can on my knees to meet his height, but his legs bend, so I can rest my butt if I want to. His skin is hot and flushed and I think mine matches his in temperature, even though I’m covered in goose bumps. Our hands move at the same time, landing on each other’s neck and cheeks, pulling so our foreheads meet. Then we wiggle noses, all in this seemingly choreographed dance. To test my theory that we share the same thoughts, I trickle my fingers down to his shoulders, his going down to mine. He wraps his magic hands around me, pulling me closer to rest my head in the crook of his neck. Our hands are still moving in unison, only his go down my back while mine go down his chest.

We haven’t kissed since we moved positions, but by the way we’re both panting, you’d think our lips had been glued together this whole time, preventing us from getting air.

I plant my mouth on the skin by his ear, sucking and licking, and by the way things harden below his belt, I know he likes it. I haven’t done this since Reagan dared me to my sophomore year during a game of spin the bottle, so it’s nice to know I still have my mojo when it comes to giving a hickey.

Then our hands go the opposite way, mine sliding around his neck and his to the small of my back. He’s groaning and caressing my shoulder and arm with his lips. I can’t help giggling against him, and I really don’t have a reason. I’m just
so happy
. He’s chuckling in tune with me, in between kisses and touches. My heart may short out.

I don’t know how I get the nerve, but it’s Wesley, so I’m thinking it’s him that makes me comfortable enough to do just about anything. So I make a wet path with the tip of my tongue from his neck down to his chest, stopping before I get to that damn sexy nipple ring.

Breaking contact for a moment, I debate whether to ask his permission again. But I figure if he minds, he’ll stop me. I kiss the small metal hoop, then flick my tongue around it. His hand moves from the small of my back to the back of my head and for a panicky moment I think he’ll push me away, but instead he massages my scalp as if he’s encouraging me to continue my exploration of his delicious chest. Which I take full advantage of.

He shifts underneath me, causing my mouth to move back up to his. We keep our lips grazing each other, not kissing but not
not
kissing either. He smiles, and his eyes get this question in them as his hand goes to the back of my bra.

I wiggle on his lap, a definite yes in answer to his question, then tackle him with a kiss. I swallow his laughter as he kisses me back, our tongues mating and teeth clicking. I’m tugging so hard on his hair I may pull it out if I’m not careful.

His hand is still moving over the back of my bra, fingers desperately trying to find the clasp, but he won’t find it there.

He breaks from my lips and peeks over my shoulder. “What the hell is up with this thing?”

I tickle his spine, laughing as he shivers against me. Then he growls because he still can’t figure out the mechanics of my bra. Instead of going to the front where he’ll find the easy pop-open clasp, he curls his fingers under the material and pulls up. I suppose when you can’t find the hooks, you rip it off any way you know how.

Except he gets halfway up my back and stops. Like, not only his hands, but everything. He’s gone completely stone still.

“Something wrong?” I ask over his shoulder.

“Uh …” He loosens his hold and I sit back on his lap to look at his face. He looks like he’s in pain. “I think we better cool it.”

I frown. “Why?”

“Lots of reasons.”

“Okay, give me one.”

His face goes pink and he traces a finger over the lace of my bra. “Not assuming where this is going, but if it does go farther, I’m not prepared for it.”

He’ll have to be more specific there. “Prepared emotionally? Or prepared as in you don’t have the proper …” I point to the strain in his jeans. “Wardrobe?”

“Neither. Or both? I can’t really think right now.” He shakes his head, his blond hair sticking all over the place. “But I don’t have a condom. I mean, I do in my apartment …” His trembling hands motion in the direction of his place. “Though the box is probably covered in an inch of dust.”

I snicker, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe you don’t have any in here. Wesley! You own a shaggin’ wagon.”

“Guess that shows you how innocent I am.”

“Hmm …” I kneel up, bumping my chest against his as I stretch into my pocket. The foil crinkles in my hand as I push the wrapper against his forehead with one finger. Thank you, Reagan, for the condom wars! “Good thing I’m not so innocent, huh?” I try to sound sexy, even though we both know no one’s been under the zipper.

“You’re weakening my resolve,” he says, letting me keep the condom pressed against his head.

“Good. Now tell me the other reason you’re not prepared for this so I can weaken that as well.”

“Damn it.” He finally takes the condom from me. “This would be much easier if you had your shirt on.”

“You asked to take it off.”

“I know.”

“Wesley, hurry up or our first time will be angry sex.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “You
really
want this,” he says with a chuckle.

Duh! What did he think was happening? Of course I want this. I’ve never wanted anything more. “I want you.” I slide against him, and his eyes roll back. “I told you that already.”

“You want more than sex, though, right?”

“Mmm-hmm.” I want everything.

“Then we have to fix it first.”

“Fix what?” I ask, now placing kisses on his neck.

“What we did to our best friends.”

Crap. I slouch against him, a defeated sigh blowing from my mouth, making him laugh. He rubs my back, and I have to ignore the way that makes me feel. “Why are you so
good
?”

He laughs again, tilting my chin up and pressing his puffy lips against mine. The kiss is way too controlled for my liking, though. “One of us has to be.”

I sigh, blowing a curly strand of hair from my face, which Wesley instantly tucks behind my ear. “Okay. We’ll fix that”—I gesture to Phantom’s—“before we do this.” I wiggle a finger between the two of us. “But …”

“But …?”

I sigh again. “Can we at least have some fun on second base before we have to go back in?”

He throws his head back, his sexy cowlick sticking up and the dimple super deep in his chin as he laughs. “If I can get the stupid thing open …” He snaps my bra like a fifth grader does when girls start wearing them. I tug on one of his nipple rings and twist in retaliation. Then he flips me underneath him, rubbing the sore spot on his chest. “I don’t think that’s what you meant by playing on second base.”

I take his hand, smiling as I direct him to the clasp in front of my bra. He slides his fingers over it, face heating up. “Now, that would’ve been good to know.”

Our bodies vibrate against each other as we chuckle. Then we fog the windows up the right way.

(And are just as evil as you are.)

“Damn, you’re hot.”

“I’ve been told.”

“Better fix your shirt.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s on backward.”

“That’s your fault. You put it back on.”

“Sorry. I was distracted by a couple other things.”

I smack Wesley’s hands as they reach for my boobs. He chuckles and pulls me in for a kiss instead.