Wreck (Fuel Series Book 2) Page 13

  “Mind?” I step between them and lift a brow to Alex. Quiet laughter shakes his chest and he runs his palm through his beard. He eyes me for a few seconds, his body still moving with the heavy thumps vibrating the club.

  “Yeah, all right,” he says, leaving his eyes on me as he steps forward and kisses Hannah’s cheek. I could crack a molar I’m biting down so hard.

  I don’t wait for him to fully pull away before I slide my hand across her midsection, letting my fingers possessively scratch at her bare skin, then the crisscross of fabric above her navel. She turns under my hold and flattens her back against my chest before arching it and laying her head back on my shoulder. She lifts her chin toward my ear and I wrap my other arm around her, both of us swaying to the beat.

  “I thought this was a business trip,” she hums at my ear.

  “Ah, yes. About that.” I inhale her scent. She smells of fresh fruit and honey, like a dessert I want to devour, and I’m no longer able to be shy about that. I bend my head lower, pressing my lips against the crook of her neck, allowing myself a single taste. The alcohol I was able to refuse, but Hannah is a different type of addiction. She’s embedded in my soul. My fingers are on fire where they meet her skin.

  “I lied.” I breathe those two words against her ear and she melts into me.

  All of my innocent intentions disappeared the moment I saw her in that dress. We roll together as I inch us to the center of the room, cloaking us in an endless sea of bodies all grinding and filling the air with lust. Hannah reaches up, her hands twisting in my hair as she leans into me, her fingers dusting against my neck as she draws out the hungry beast inside me. I run the backs of my fingers up her sides, skimming the curves of her breasts until I make my way to her arms and hands. Our fingers twine and she moves my hold back down her body to her hips. On the beat, she bends down, her ass barely concealed by the bottom of her dress as it presses against my aching cock. I grip her hips and hold her to me tight as her body forms a wave. She glances at me over her shoulder, her hair sticking to her skin, her teeth playfully gripping her bottom lip.

  Unable to wait, I turn her so she’s facing me and hold her wrists against my chest as our bodies continue to move. Her eyes are fixed on our hands, her lids heavy, lashes dark. The faint sprinkle of freckles that I’ve memorized on her nose glistens under the soft powder on her face. She doesn’t need any of this, but I love how powerful it seems to make her feel. Hannah is beautiful in all ways. A vixen no matter what she wears. My beginning and end whether she’s in a pair of sweatpants or a red dress in the middle of one of Vegas’s hottest clubs.

  I let go of her hands to touch her face, but she leaves them clutched to my shirt, her thumbs flirting with the button and my bare chest underneath. I smooth away the stray hairs interrupting my view of her eyes, then lift her chin with my fingertips until she blinks her gaze onto mine.

  “You have to know how sorry I am,” I say. She falters a step, so I move my hand to the small of her back to hold her steady. “About all of it. I wish he wasn’t my dad. I wish it wasn’t dangerous. I wish I had stayed even though I couldn’t. Your birthdays. I missed four of your birthdays. I’m sorry for that.”

  She sucks in her lips and her eyes glaze over, reflecting the myriad lights glowing, beating, flashing around us. The music mutes in my ears. All I hear is her. I hear her breath, the way it catches when our eyes flit away and reconnect. I hear her heartbeat, feel it in her body as it sinks into mine. I hear our past, our pain, our future.

  I take her hand in mine and turn her wrist, pressing my lips on the small tattoo that Bailey helped me understand. I close my eyes and whisper “I’m sorry” against her skin, against the word painted on her body as a mantra.

  Her fingers inch up my jaw, caressing my unshaven face, moving into my hair as her eyes search mine, her lips stunned and the damage I left behind too much for her to power her words through. I know she feels it though. This palpable feeling between us is undeniable. It always is. Always has been.

  She lifts up on her toes and pulls my head down until our lips meet, and the second they do, everything over the last four years fades into the distance and we are undone. I clutch her back, holding her to me, dipping her with the beat and pulling her leg up against my hip. My cock pulses against her heat, and her teeth grip my bottom lip. She breaks our kiss but doesn’t pull away completely, just enough to make room to speak. Then she calls the shots in a whisper against my lips.

  “Balcony,” she says. “Now.”

  And I obey.

  14

  I’m disappointed when the elevator isn’t empty, but not so much that I’m willing to wait for another one.

  Dustin grips my hand and leads me to the back of the small space filled with intoxicated frat boys and what looks like a group of women out for a bachelorette party. This elevator smells of the potent mixture of perfume and too-heavy-cologne, and a whole lot of Vegas, but I swear my senses are locked in on Dustin’s scent. His cologne is light, but that’s not the fragrance that infects me. Underneath it all, my body has found that faint note of oil, the burnt tenor of rubber, the sweetness of his sweat, and the fresh cover of his shampoo. It’s a recipe that is entirely and uniquely him, and my God, have I missed it.

  The trip to our floor is slow, stopping on what seems to be every floor between the club level and ours. Dustin let go of my hand and moved his palm to my back, his thumb flirting with the draped deep-cut back of my dress and my bare skin underneath. With every floor we stop at, his hand grows bolder, at first teasing me just underneath the fabric, then tickling against the ribbed lace of my thong, and now hooking his thumb under the thin strip of material at the crest of my ass. He pulls it snug, and it intensifies the deep swelling between my legs to the point that I have to cross my ankles and squeeze my thighs together so I don’t come undone right here.

  By the time we reach our floor, only two people are left in the elevator with us, and they’re too drunk to be aware of anything other than what is right in front of them. Before the doors open and we step past them, Dustin slips his hand down my dress completely, his palm cupping my ass and squeezing hard—not hard enough. I pant out a faint cry and bite my lip quickly, desperate to be alone with him.

  Once in the hallway, Dustin turns to walk backward and untucks his white shirt from his pants as he saunters. It’s the sexiest fucking thing I have ever seen, exactly as I’ve imagined so many times. I catch up to him and grab the ends of his shirt in my fists and let my bottom lip slip from the grip of my teeth as I look up into his hooded eyes. His sinister smile taunts me, as does every backward step he takes, each time barely out of reach to kiss him like I want. Unable to stand it, I rush at him and slide my hands up his chest and around his neck, and trust he will catch me when I leap at him.

  He does, swinging me as my legs wrap around his waist. I giggle, my head hung back as the glorious sound of his husky laughter floats across my throat before his mouth tastes its way up my jaw. When I bring my head up, that same intoxicating smile is waiting, along with eyes that zero in on my lips. His tongue peeks out from his teeth, and he bites the tip of it as he smiles and shakes his head at me.

  “What?” I know what.

  He doesn’t answer until we reach our doors and he lets me slide down his body. I leave my hands against his hard ab muscles as my pinkies flirt with the waistband of his pants. His back falls against my door and his hands run up my arms to my shoulders, hovering along the thin satin strap that holds my dress up on each side. He slides the right strap down my arm, his gaze focused on his small, steady movement. His thumb caresses the curve of my shoulder before his eyes flit to the tight space between us where my hands are slowly inching down, the tips of my fingers clawing at the V that leads to his hardness.

  “It’s like a dream.” His eyes seem lost to the moment, his smile faint but forever present.

  “What is?” My eyes flit up to meet his before I close them and let my head fall to his chest, my lips p
ressing in the very center. My fingers curl against his tight skin, and a ragged breath precedes his hard swallow. His head falls back against the door.

  “Here, with you. Touching you, and getting to say things I’ve wanted to say. I didn’t think . . . I never. . .”

  I step up on my toes and press my mouth to his before he can say more or too much, the kiss soft and chaste as he suckles my upper lip. My mouth escapes his grip with the stretch of my smile, one I let spread the width of my cheeks. I show my joy, allowing him to see behind the walls I worked so hard to build and maintain. I choose to be vulnerable, right now, here with him. This isn’t the kind of careful Bailey warned me to be, but it’s honest and it’s inevitable. I have to honor my heart.

  “I never thought we’d get our time either.” My eyes blink slowly as I look up at him, his hands traveling back up the curve of my neck and to my jaw so he can cradle my face. I’ve missed his hazel eyes, the way they bewilder up close, never quite blue and never quite green. I fall into them now. I fall into him.

  I reach into my dress, into the red strapless bra where I tucked the small key card for my room, and press it against the reader on the door. It beeps and Dustin pushes down the handle, swinging open the door into my room. I run my hand along his body, from his stomach to his chest, then along the length of his arm as I step inside. My fingers catch on his and I tug, urging him to follow. The door clicks shut behind us and now it’s my turn to walk backward.

  “You mentioned . . . the balcony,” he says, his voice deep and mouth hung open after speaking.

  “I did.” I take another step away from him and slip the left strap from my shoulder. He hovers near the entrance, sinking his hands into his pockets as his head tilts slightly. His lip ticks up on one side, and for a moment, I glimpse the boy I once seduced in my parents’ kitchen when nobody was looking.

  “I’ll meet you out there,” he says as I reach behind my back to find the zipper. I lower my chin and raise a brow.

  “You don’t want to be late for this,” I tease.

  “Oh, Han. I’m not late, sweetheart. I’m right on time for the show.” He rolls his shoulders and widens his stance, his hands still casually slung in his pockets as he watches me work the zipper down my spine in the center of my hotel room. He seems emboldened, almost arrogant, and it’s so damn sexy.

  “Never pegged you for a watcher,” I say, my body radiating heat under his stare. I could come undone simply from having his eyes on me, I swear.

  “I’m both. I like to see, then I like to sample.”

  A nervous laugh slips from my mouth at his dirty talk, just as my dress slips from my shoulders. I hug my chest to hold it up and continue to step toward the sliding glass doors. The curtains are still drawn from earlier, but they’re sheer, and with the room dim and the city bright, he’ll get the picture.

  I push the glass open and slip through the silky white curtains. Dustin shifts his feet and lifts his chin, but remains where he is, still watching. I wonder how experienced he expects me to be. This part of the dance, the seduction? I’ve mastered this. And for the other guys I’ve dated—briefly—it’s only ever gotten about this far. I’ve never been able to allow someone else in completely, to trust them with my heart and my body. In my mind, I convinced myself it was because I wanted to protect myself from ever getting hurt again, but now that I’m here—now that I’m opening myself up for Dustin to have, completely—I realize I wasn’t guarding myself at all. I was saving myself. For the only person I ever wanted to have me.

  My body quakes as if it’s chilled, despite the warm summer breeze passing over my skin. I’m nervous, but also ready. Dustin is all I have ever wanted. And now he’s here. He’s here because of me. He could have left after dealing with Colt’s matters, could have paid someone to simply clear out the trailer and lot, or let them keep whatever profit they could squeeze out of that place. He could have left the Straights behind, too, because based on where he’s going, he’s never going to need that place again. He should be in Phoenix, near the track for his first race, training and perfecting the nuances with his team. But instead, he’s here, fighting to make something of our town, attempting to help my mom keep her ego intact and keep her post as mayor, and hoping I’ll let him love me.

  I will. I do.

  My fingers loosen their grip on my dress enough to let it fall down my body and pool at my feet. Still balanced gracefully, somehow, on very high heels, I lift one leg behind me and unbuckle the leather strap that wraps up my calf, kicking away my shoe when it loosens. I repeat with the other, my gaze glued to Dustin’s silhouette as he stands inside. He shifts his weight a few times, but still hasn’t made a move to come closer.

  I recede a few steps until my body meets the back of one of the outdoor chairs. In my periphery, I can see the other balconies, but I’m fairly certain we’re alone on our level. At this point, I wouldn’t care. I’d welcome the audience. I grip the iron frame and let myself breathe in deep for courage before stretching out my arm and curling my finger, beckoning Dustin to me. I shudder at the sight of his first step in my direction.

  His hands move up the length of his shirt, unbuttoning along the way until his chest is bared. He slips his arms from the shirt and tosses it to the side while taking slow but steady paces toward the balcony. My hands squeeze the metal bars and my knees grow week. I bought this lingerie set on a whim, born out of a fantasy that someday maybe I would wear it for this man. I never actually thought I would, and until this trip, it still had the tags on it. Red silk and lace that barely covers where it should, and I’m still not a hundred percent confident that I’m in shape enough to wear it. But under his intense stare, I feel empowered enough to hold my chest up high and spread my legs as he steps through the gauzy curtains.

  Dustin’s measured steps make his travel the few feet between us seem to draw on forever. By the time his finger lifts my chin, I’m quivering with nerves and need. My eyes rake up the perfect lines of his chest to my initials over his heart and I nearly break seeing them, knowing they’re there. He lifts my chin more and soon, our gazes lock.

  “I want you.” Warmth coats my body at his declaration.

  “Take me,” I respond, arching back a fraction and exposing my neck as my eyes close. He bends and softly kisses my throat, leaving behind the coolness from his tongue. His fingertips glide from my jaw to my collarbone, then stop at the tight line where my bra binds my breasts.

  “I like this,” he says, letting his thumb graze over the gathered satin.

  “I picked it for you,” I admit, my eyes fluttering closed as his thumb brushes over the hard peak of my breast underneath. I arch more, wanting him to touch me there again.

  “And nobody else?”

  I swallow, knowing the meaning behind his question. My lips quiver, my fear of getting hurt echoing in the depths of my head. I push that voice away, mute it if not erase it, and shake my head slowly as I let my eyes open on his.

  “Nobody.” I lift my chin with pride, not expecting the same from him but hoping still. Our breathing grows heavy, chests rising with thick draws of air, in and out, while our eyes meet in silent communication. I can see in his that he can’t offer me the same gift, the same purity of experience, but I never expected him to. I know what he and my brother did in high school. I wasn’t ever going to be his first, but I wanted to be his last. I still can.

  Guilt is tearing at his insides, and it draws his eyes low, pulling at the corners of his mouth, but I refuse to let the last four years of our lives take any more from us. This time—this now—is ours.

  “Dustin,” I whisper his name, calling his gaze back to mine. His eyes make the slow trip up my body. I lick my lips when he reaches my face.

  “Have me. All of me. Please?” My voice breaks with part emotion and part need.

  “You are the only thing that has ever mattered,” he says, and I know he means it. I’m what makes him fight to be good. He isn’t Colt, and I’m aware of the part I play
ed in his life that kept him from following darker paths. I’m also not naïve to the pull those temptations probably had on him when we were apart. What matters is our now, and our days ahead.

  “Show me,” I beg.

  His lids grow heavier and his hands bolder as he returns his attention to my lace-covered breasts. My nipples are so hard that the floral pattern scratches against them as I breathe. The abrasive sensation makes my breath shudder, which seems to bolster Dustin’s touch, his fists forming around the material at both sides, gathering it and rolling it down to my midriff.

  I’ve always felt my tits were too small to be sexy, but under his attentive stare, I feel like a femme fatale. Dustin’s hands slip down the sides of my body to my waist, and he lifts me enough that I’m sitting on the back of the massive chair. Without pause, his mouth covers my right breast, his tongue swirling circles around my nipple until he sucks it in so hard it becomes instantly raw. It throbs at the feel of the warm air when he lets go, his attention now on the other one.

  His hand slides behind my back, allowing me to arch more, allowing him to take more of my breast in his mouth. I can’t get enough of the release he gives me with each suckle and graze of his teeth, and eventually he bites down, just enough to pull my pale pink skin toward him.

  “Ah.” I whimper, my hands letting go of the chair back and reaching forward to the button of his pants.

  He steps in closer, my thighs widening, then closing in tight around his hips. I yank his button free and rip down the zipper, his mouth never once leaving my skin as he devours me from neck to breasts and back again. If it weren’t for his strong hold around me, I would fall over onto the chair.

  My hands wrap around the band of his boxers and I lift myself enough to be even with him, but still having to look up to see his face. His mouth moves to mine, his kiss ragged and hungry as one hand remains firm behind my back while the other cradles my jaw. I slip his pants and boxers down his hips, the tip of his cock peeking out under my touch. I run my thumbs over the ridged skin and he trembles under my power. I can’t help but smile, proud of my effect on him.