Recklessly (38 page)

On the fourth night post-text, the anxiety and fatigue had him more jittery than usual. Images of her and Brody invaded his thoughts and made it impossible to do anything except invent more mind-destroying scenarios of them together in a naked tangle, fucking. Fucking Brody.
Fuckin’ Brody. Shit.

His anger hit him like a lightning strike. Wes hopped in the shower, jumped into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, grabbed the essentials, grabbed her things—including the painting of her and her easel—and drove to her place. It was a little after one a.m. when Wes pulled into a visitor’s parking spot, heart raging. Her bike was parked in its usual space, so he jogged up to her apartment after dragging the easel up the stairs, and banged on the door. “Lana!”

Footsteps traipsed across the carpet in his direction then the peephole darkened before the door swung inward. Her expression was one of wariness but not surprise. His attraction to her swelled as he took her in. What had he expected? Of course the sight of her would immediately weaken him. Their gazes locked, each searing the other with a pointed glare.

He dropped her things at her feet, his gaze swirling around the place. “Where the fuck is Brody? Is he here?” Wes asked. He fought the impulse to tear through her apartment. This level of jealousy was foreign to him; he felt crazed.

“Is that why you’re here in the middle of the night while my roommates are sleeping?” Lana scoffed bitterly. “You came here to shake the curtains? And sniff through my panty drawer? Be my guest.” She waved her hand in the air and granted him entry to the apartment.

“Did you think I came over to talk?”

“You don’t want to talk at all? Because my text was—”

“I want anything of mine that’s here. And did you know Charlotte was doing drugs before that night at my house when she showed up with that guy? Did you not mention it because you would have to tell me you were at that Surf for Life party with Brody?”

Lana’s eyes widened as she spun to face him. “She really
is
doing drugs? Honestly, Wes, I didn’t even know Charlotte was at that party when I got there. I hung around, doing my best to change Brody’s mind, and when I saw Charlotte it was for, like, five minutes. I didn’t pay attention long enough to see if she was high. Yeah, maybe I ducked out because I didn’t want her to see me talking with Brody and have it get back to you.” Lana’s expression turned solemn. “Is she okay? Where is she?” The shock was plain and genuine on her face.

“I wouldn’t know.” Wes scanned her frame, his gaze brushing over her neck, collarbone, chest and legs. She was wearing a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top without a bra.
Fuck. She looks good
. Heat flared down the front of his jeans, a hint of his beginning erection. “Did you let him touch you?”

“Seriously?”

“Did he?”

“This is
really
why you came over here?”

“I came to get all my shit and give you yours, but it seems like a fair question considering you got in his goddamn car, and you two can’t seem to stay away from each other. So, did you
fuck
Brody?”

“Did you fuck Kiera? Yeah, I know people who have been partying at your house. She’s been over a few times, right?” she said, jealousy thick in her voice.

Wes’ jaw clenched. “I’ve been having those fucking parties because of you! Refresher course: Your apartment. Brody. Me. You. My Embarrassment. You not returning my calls or texts. And Kiera doesn’t have anything to do with this but, no, I didn’t sleep with her.”

She bit her lip until he finished speaking. “Sleeping with Brody? Is that what you think of me? Is that what this has been about this whole time?”

He shook his head. “Okay, wait, I didn’t—”

“Yeah, Wes.” Lana’s strides swallowed the distance between them so quickly he’d barely completed his blink before she was inches from his chest. “I
fucked
him six ways to Sunday,
everywhere
and,
oooh,
and I let him put it
wherever he wanted,
then I let him come
all
over my face. You happy?”

Her eyes and tone said it was a lie; still, the words were like poison, debilitating to his soul. But her face was too close to his—her lips, parted and so pink from how hard she’d been biting them, her skin, flushed and covered in the glow of sweat, her chest, heaving with the quickening rhythm of her breaths. His senses were too in tune to her. His lust enmeshed his dark feeling, unraveling it, diluting it, until his desire turned his nerves electric.

“That’s what you wanted to hear, right?”

“I just want my shit back. All of it.”

Lana sighed. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Wes. I miss you…can we please talk?” His breathing pattern changed as her fingers curled against his shirt. At her touch, his yearning crashed down on him, and it was a teasing and delicious ache as her fingers skittered down his front. Want radiated out from his core, and a swatch of heat spread across his pelvis.

“No, I’m going…” Wes pushed his face toward hers, nearly slamming their noses. “Just figure out how to get me my shit, Lana. ‘Cause I brought every book of yours and your easel, and I plan to get every fucking thing of mine you
ever
touched—everything you
ever
looked at—out of my place. I don’t want to talk; I want you out of my life, though.” She stared back at him with an unflinching expression, and something crackled within him. She was too fucking intoxicating; she had seeped into him, crawled into his veins, and he wanted to grab her mouth and kiss her until neither of them could breathe, until their very survival was at stake.

“Wes, please don’t go…” Her skin was so flushed, and he could smell the sweat on it. He wanted to taste her, swirl his tongue right into her body until her vision blurred, feel her fingers twist and yank his hair. Wes turned for her door, but as soon as he swung it open, she slammed it shut. Lana grabbed the back of his neck and brought his mouth so hard against hers, he was pretty sure he tasted blood from biting his lip. He pressed her against the door, and with a swift pull, she ripped his shirt off him. Wes lifted her and she curled her legs over his waist. Her nails scraped across the width of his back as they kissed with the kind of ferocity and that caused shivers in them both. He savored the familiarity of her mouth, the taste of her tongue he had longed for, as Lana wriggled against his erection; it was digging right into the split of her legs and her nails were clawing into his flesh.

“Fuck…I miss you, too…” he mumbled and he slipped his fingers beneath her tank top, and electricity sparked at his fingertips.

“Take me to bed,” she said breathlessly. “Please, Wes…” He wanted to tell her no so badly. But he knew better than to pretend he could resist Lana Langston, like he wouldn’t have done anything she asked, demanded or begged for. With his mouth pinned to her neck, he walked to her bedroom and fell on top of her onto the mattress. As they stripped each other’s clothes off, their movements were ravenous and feral, like there was a strong possibility that they would rip each other apart and leave nothing but pieces when this was over. He flipped Lana to her stomach, speared her hair forward to expose her neck and dropped his lips to the nape. Lana reached back and grabbed his head and he stuck his hands beneath her body to grip her breasts.

“Wes…” She arched her back as he planted feather-light kisses on the curve of her spine, curling her hands around the sheets. She turned over and whimpered in pleasure when his lips landed on her stomach, and she locked her legs around his torso, hugged him hard against her as she raked her fingers through his hair. He whipped his tongue over one of her nipples and kneaded her other breast.

Lana cried out and drew her nails up his back. And Wes rose above her, cock at her opening, poised to thrust into her, staring down at her beautiful body, craving it, craving their intimacy. Lana’s legs were folded over his hamstrings, and with her leg muscles, she pulled him forward just slightly, and he shuddered from the sensation to his nerves of coming into contact with her body. But Wes didn’t budge.

“Wes…” Lana pulled him toward her again, and his dick brushed against her once more, sending jolts of pleasure ripping through him. “What? You want me to beg?”

“Why should I?” he asked, finding a moment of enlightenment he had lacked before.

“What?” Her expression crumbled from lustful to concern.

“Why should I give you what you want?”

“What?”

“Why should I give you what you want? Did you think about me, and what I wanted and what I felt when you
left
me in San Diego and then you
left
me outside your apartment? To go with Brody?” He sat back on his haunches, searching for his clothes.

“I screwed up…”

“That’s your response? You ‘screwed up’? You
really
fucked me
up, Lana,” Wes said as he got dressed.

“I know and I’m sorry. And I want to explain. Let’s talk…let’s talk. Can we start there?” Lana grabbed a big t-shirt off her floor, and when she put it on, his chest blazed; it was one of his.

“No.”

“Is sorry not enough?” she whispered.

“I don’t think so…” He sounded so aloof it bothered
him.

“Okay, what can I do?”

“Not leave me in San Diego. Not get in that car with Brody.” The anger, the pain, it was barreling in, muddling everything again. “Maybe I wanted to talk before,
way before
…but I don’t think I can now…”

“So, you’re just gonna go?”

“Isn’t that what you did?” Wes sighed.

She laughed with some bitterness, hurt flashing in her eyes. “You’re being vindictive.” He was, and it really had not been his original intent, but for a moment, he reveled in how much it made him feel better.

Wes stood up. “I’m walking out the door and I kinda hope you play this moment over and over in your head. The way the day you left me plays in mine.”

Chapter 13 How to Save a Life

“Is it weird that I’m oddly turned on by that story?” Abel asked after Wes relayed what had taken place at Lana’s apartment a few nights before. The Elliott house was its usual upbeat raucous, but tonight Wes was hiding out upstairs in his brother’s room.

Wes scrunched his nose before he took a sip from a can of Lava. “Uh, yeah…not even oddly weird. Really nasty.”

Abel winced as he slipped his injured arm through the sleeve of his polo shirt. “I was just picturing myself in the situation. Not banging Lana, obviously…”

“Good to know…” Wes laughed and rolled to his back on the bed.

“Why’d you go over there if you didn’t plan on having hot ass make-up sex?” Abel ran his fingers through his hair; his idea of styling.

“‘Cause I didn’t want to make up with her. I wanted to see her. And not see her. And I was thinking about her and Brody because of what Charlotte said. And I knew it wasn’t true but my head is so messed up right now…”

Abel spun away from his mirror. “Why didn’t y’all have, like, I hate you but I love but I hate you so much sex then? You know, angry ex sex. Lana looks like she’d be good at—”

“Stop, don’t finish that sentence. I’m sure it would’ve been awesome. Only Lana could make me horny during an argument. I wanted her, but I was looking at her, knowing how I’m pretty much crazy about her, and I just didn’t want her to win, you know? I wanted her to miss
me
and feel bad, too. Total immature move, but you know maturity has never factored into Elliott decision-making.”

Abel laughed. “True. But how do you know she doesn’t miss you and feel bad?”

“Deep down, I know she does—and I could’ve heard her explanation—but I guess I wanted to
see
it
, especially with how I’ve been the last few weeks. And it didn’t even make me feel better. I feel guilty as shit for hurting her by leaving her like that, and I
love
her, but I’m still mad, you know?”
And miserable
. And lacking even a speck of an inclination to hate her. “Fuck, man. Look how ridiculous things have gotten. I almost killed you. How’s your shoulder? Still hurting?”

“I took some leftover Vicodin, but it sucks that I can’t drink tonight. You sure you don’t want to come out?” Abel walked for the doorway and then the stairs with Wes behind him.

“Yup…I’m about to kick everyone out, too. I think I’m retiring the parties as of tonight,” Wes said. “I think I need to mope this one out. Finally.”

“Please, let me do the honors!” Abel said to him before shouting, “All right, time to go!” There were probably twenty people in their living room area, but within a few minutes, the crowd dwindled to just Abel, Wes, and their friend, Paul.

“You can’t get into the club in board shorts, Deuce,” Paul said.

“I’m not going.”

“You’re seriously staying in?” Paul asked, surveying him with a suspicious look. “I thought Abe was joking.”

Wes shrugged and walked toward the kitchen. “Thought wrong.”

“Why, dude? Avan is expecting you. She’s been looking forward to you being at her twenty-first forever. Come on,” Paul pressed, following him. Wes realized he’d been faking social skills well lately, but his friend trailing him around and trying to coerce him to go be social against his will was like taking a hammer to his fingernails. Wes couldn’t even muster an explanation that didn’t involve having to disclose that he was too devastated to be outdoors right now, so he said nothing. He just let Paul stare at him.

“Uh…Wesley is supposed to do a Skype interview with a surfing magazine and it’s super secret right now…” Abel said in an attempt to cover for him.
Thank you, twin thing.
Wes finally managed to smile, even though it was at the kitchen floor tiles. “He won’t even tell me the details. It’s for a special issue they’re doing. That’s all I know.”

“Oh…cool, dude. I hope it goes well,” Paul said with a few pats on the back.

“Thanks.” Wes dug into a box of Cheerios and popped a few pieces into his mouth. Abel smiled kindly at him from behind Paul’s back, and Wes knew that Abel understood that the gratitude was really for him. But he didn’t want Abel to have to protect him; Wes really just wanted to not feel the way he did. For him and Abel to have stayed inside Target longer that day. For Lana to have ridden through the parking lot faster.