Recklessly (16 page)

She cradled his face. “Yeah…and I’m totally on the
rebound
, which sucks because I didn’t get a bracelet to your party tonight…”

“You don’t have to worry about getting in, Benz…” he said with a half-smile.

“Oh really? And I was simply going to settle for just a hug tonight…”

“You can
definitely
get more than a hug...”

“Good…” she said in a drawl, before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Sloane linked arms with him as they joined the mass of people leaving the beach.

And it was in
these
moments, this kind of night, when Wes realized that maybe it was stupid to question how he had ended up with this life; maybe, sometimes, you were just born a king.

              And kings certainly didn’t need to get hung up on one girl.

Chapter 5 Not Naked but Bare

The music was already too loud, the house would reach capacity even with the bracelets, they would probably run out of food (but not the alcohol, thank God), and it was “high school basement party” dark in there, but Wes didn’t care; he was the ringmaster and this was his circus. He shot a friendly nod at Christian and Damon, who were standing guard at the door to make sure only people who had bracelets would be allowed entry.

Wes stepped into the kitchen with two bottles of Bacardi 151 rum and with Sloane hugging him from the back. Thoughts of Lana were forcing their way into his head, but he was pretty sure they were no match for 75% alcohol by volume! Plus, Sloane was all over him, and she had been by his side since they’d left the beach a couple hours before.

“Collared shirt. And it’s purple,” Abel said as he inspected his brother.

“Lilac,” Dylan explained as she trailed behind them. “And Sloane and I think it looks nice on him.”

“Toast!” Wes summoned as many of the early arrivals as he could into the kitchen as Ribsy poured shot quantities of rum into red Solo cups. “Let’s make it a good one, boys…and girls.”

“What are we toasting to…besides you, my fabulous best friend?” Dylan asked, wrapping her arms around his torso.

“What do we always toast to?” he said as he slung his arm around her shoulders. “Here’s to living large…” He looked to Abel.

              “Playing often...” Abel said, looking to Leko.

              “Working hard…” He turned to Ribsy.

“Getting drunk…” Then all the eyes turned to Dylan.

“Kai isn’t here, baby, you gotta say it,” Leko said, nearly choking on his laughter. Wes joined in on the laughter when Dylan muttered the last part of the guys’ traditional toast.

“What’s that, Dyl?” Wes said, cupping his hand at his ear.

Dylan groaned. “And…fucking dirty.”

              “AND FUCKING DIRTY!!!” they repeated in unison before touching cups and throwing back their drinks under an umbrella of cheering from the party guests.
Now,
he was ready to celebrate his night. He signaled to Christian and Damon that they should let more people in as he grabbed Sloane’s hand and led her off to the expansive living room, which was quickly filling with people trying to get closer to the DJ. After the distraction of people congratulating him and insisting on doing shots with him—people were literally just pouring streams of liquor down his throat, no cups—and Sloane, looking determined to reserve him the whole night, linked her fingers at the back of his neck and ground her backside into his pelvis to the powerful beat battering the eardrums of everyone in the room.

Tonight had been awesome. He just needed to shake the dull, distant ache in his stomach Lana had somehow left there earlier. After a few songs and a lot of welcomed groping from Sloane, Christian appeared at his side, looking like he was taking his job way too seriously. “Dude, there are a ton of girls here without bracelets, but one of them says you know her. She insisted, but don’t they all say that?”

“What’s her name?”

“I don’t remember, and I wasn’t even going to bother, but she said something really weird. And she made me repeat it over and over just now until I got it right. I don’t even think I did. She said, ‘Tell Wes…’ Shit. I forgot. It was something about souls being made of stuff…the same stuff… Shit, dude, I don’t know.”

“‘Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same?’” Wes said, smiling.
Oh, she’s good.

Christian’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh…yeah. That’s it. How did you…?”

“I got it. I’ll be back, Sloane,” Wes said without any further explanation as he dashed to the door and caught sight of the anaconda length line tracing down the sidewalk. Someone started an inarticulate, slurring-heavy chant of “Deuce is wild!” People were shouting his name, begging to be let in. But he wasn’t really there for any of them.

He was mid-wave at the crowd when he saw her, and his heart suddenly became a resident of his throat.

Lana.

Wow.
There she was. Being breathtaking without having to try. He had never seen her dressed up like this before, either. She was standing off to the side, brown hair curled but loose around her shoulders, strapless red dress hugging her frame. His biker chick with the books. The woman smart enough to know he would respond to a
Wuthering Heights
quote. That he would fall for it.

A pleasant roll of chills unfurled down his front when her gaze smacked into him.

It’s later,
she mouthed then smiled. She
smiled
and everything else paled around her. The noise. The people. The air. The dull ache from earlier was morphing, his stomach filling with something warm, light, something delightfully orgasmic. Ignoring the pleas of the others, he stepped down into the yard, pulled her into a hug and inhaled the scent of her. Sometimes he could smell her on his sheets for days, taste her on his tongue long after she was gone.

Without even meaning to, Lana Langston was lingering.

He kissed her cheek as he yanked his mind away from the thoughts that aroused him. “If I tell you that you’re beautiful will you believe me even though I’m drunk?”

“I’ll believe it ‘cause it’s coming from you.”

“You’re beautiful, and I’m glad you’re here.” Her friends
aww
ed until she told them to shut up. “You guys can all come in,” he added, gesturing at them, but he stopped Lana from going inside by closing his hand around her wrist. “I was an asshole earlier, Lan. It wasn’t my business. My issues with Brody should’ve been separate from our thing.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick with the apology…” She ticked her head over to the street, and Wes recognized the silver Cadillac Escalade belonging to Brody Swift.

“Damn, you came to my party in
that
dress, and you brought Brody…” He shook his head. “That’s cold-blooded, dude.”

Lana blushed in her quiet laughter. “I didn’t bring him. I actually think he’s here for you… I tried to talk him out of it.”

Where were they talking about him?
Like in the same room? His bedroom?
Wes clenched his jaw, a feeling of displeasure pushing against his sternum from the inside. He had to get this shit under control, this reacting because of her.

“I didn’t want him to ruin your night.”

“It’s okay.” He was determined to prove to Lana that this wasn’t a big deal to him, but the fact that she was worried suddenly mattered to him. He could fake civility for her sake. He wanted to. He was usually the peacemaker in his group of friends, anyway. “I’ll even invite him in.”

“Wes…”

“Go inside, Lan, I’m sure Abel will want to flirt with you endlessly…”

Walking toward the car,
Wes sucked in a breath as he tried to wrestle down the intuition that he was about to knowingly make a stupid mistake, but he needed Lana to know that he was better than Brody. He almost turned back when a deep grin dragged across Brody’s face; he was sitting in the passenger seat. Some of his friends were standing alongside the vehicle, drinking and smoking, and some were inside.

“Congrats, Elliott,” Brody said, jutting his hand out the window. “I guess there’s something to be said for winning a contest that doesn’t really mean shit on the grand scale of things.”

“I see your backhanded compliment and raise you one sore ass loser.” Wes eyed Brody’s hand but took it. “If you guys can tone the douchebaggery down
just
a little bit, you can come in if you want.” The words were forced, and Wes didn’t actually feel like a better person for having said them.
Damn you, Lana.

A face—half-moonlit, half-shadowed—poked out of the back window. “What we want is to know how you like getting Swift’s sloppy seconds? Hey, Brody, tell Elliott which hole Lana likes it in best.” Rowdy laughter rose up around Wes, and he felt the fiery heat of anger curl through him. It intensified as the cackles continued. Peacemaker or not, he was too full of alcohol for this shit.

“Why don’t you get out of the car and say that to me,” Wes said in a challenge, reaching into the window with a fist just as the guy ducked back in. Wes pulled the door handle toward him forcefully but it was locked, and one of the other guys shoved him backward.

He
hated
that phrase, but he wasn’t embarrassed. Almost everyone had been with someone’s “sloppy seconds” technically, but his fury stemmed purely from hearing a derogatory jab directed at Lana. She didn’t deserve that. No one did.

“Elliott, we’ll have you on your ass before your friends even turn that doorknob,” the driver yelled as Brody’s friends crowded Wes. He was right; he was no match for them out here by himself.

“You’re just going to let them talk about your friend like that?” Wes asked Brody with disgust. He personally never would’ve said that about a woman
ever
, much less one he supposedly cared about. Or let anyone else do it. He’d scolded Abel earlier for that tongue-in-cheek comment about Lana
knowing
surfing, the insinuation that she was a groupie.

Brody shrugged. “I didn’t say it.” Fist clenching, Wes narrowed his eyes on Brody, who only returned a glare. A quick smack to the face would’ve sent Brody’s head flying back, and Wes would’ve been extremely amused…before Brody’s friends pummeled him into the dirt. But it would’ve been worth the resulting black eye and bruises on Lana’s behalf.

“Yeah, but you could’ve said something. That’s what decent people do.” He knew the dormant aggression between him and Brody would only be able to
just
brew for so long, especially because it felt like it was doing so in a pressure cooker. When he looked back toward the house, Lana was walking over and he didn’t want her to be in the vicinity if anything else vile was said. Just the thought of her feelings getting hurt right now was akin to having nails pushed into his eye sockets, and he had an intuition that none of these guys would have a single reservation when it came to disrespecting her to her face. He didn’t need another reason to dislike Brody, but he certainly had one now.

“This isn’t over, Swift.”

“It never is…”

Wes flipped him off and backed away to prevent Lana from getting any closer. She was weaving across the dark lawn, all leggy and commanding of attention, and a pulse of heat hit his crotch. The sight of her was almost powerful enough to make him sober.

“I take it the invitation has been rescinded?” Lana asked when they reconvened, flicking her eyes over to where Brody and his friends were.

“That’s a fair assumption.”

“I want you to come with me,” Lana said in that authoritative tone he loved so much. Her fingers enclosed his, and he didn’t even put up a fight because he had missed her so much today. He was leaving his own party, and couldn’t even raise a single internal objection as to why he shouldn’t. He wanted to go with Lana. It was pretty much all he wanted to do right now, and he suspected it would be completely worth it.

              Most of tonight’s activities were happening along Huntington Beach’s Main Street, but they were tucked away in the ‘burbs, so it was quieter, even with a few houses emitting muffled music and scrambled chatter. The pace Lana set was leisurely, almost aimless, but he still walked side-by-side with her down whatever street she chose. She was talking to him about all the contests she’d seen earlier in the day, and he was only half-listening, more so caught in the delight on her face. He really liked that she was happy around him, and he really didn’t care about the party anymore. Wes couldn’t explain it; whenever they were together he had an intense desire to make sure she was smiling or laughing. It mattered. And the truth was, he was glad it did.

“…Abel actually tried to pretend he was you in the house, like I wouldn’t know. Twins really do that…?” Lana paused and smiled. “What? You’re staring…”

Wes slowed their stroll, wrapped his arms around her from the back and held her flush against him, pressing his mouth to her ear. “You came to my party in this dress, and you brought Brody…”

“You said that already.” Lana squeezed his arms tighter around her torso as they walked.

“Just reiterating your transgressions this evening,” he said with a kiss that was aimed at her temple but landed on her ear. He rounded her and cradled her face, planting his kiss where he knew he wouldn’t miss. Right on those soft, pink lips of hers.

“Well, that’s the first time I’ve been rewarded for my
transgressions.”
She pursed her lips as a request for him to lean in again. Wes wholeheartedly obliged.

“Nah. If this were a reward, I would’ve kissed the
other
set...for a
loooong
time.”

“So, how many girls
did
you kiss tonight, Wes? What number am I?” Lana teased with a chuckle. “Did you kiss that girl on the beach? Can I rage like you did about Brody?”

“I didn’t
rage
, Lana.” Wes scoffed. “And that was just an old friend, Lana
.
”

“Why do you keep saying my name?”

“Liquor…and, hey,
any
part of you I can get on my tongue…”

“This is why I needed to steal you away. I’ve missed these silly little things you say.”