on mine. “Everything’s fine. You?”
“I’m good,” he said. “I was out for a drink with my friend Sam. You were asleep when I got home.”
I nodded as if I were unacquainted with the English language. Both of us were making no sense at all.
“Is your bed okay?” Wes asked.
I nodded again. Then my eyes widened as he took a step closer to me, so close I could hear his breath. My nipples went hard under my camisole. “You have cold pizza in your fridge,” I said senselessly.
“I should have grocery shopped.” Wes took another step, backing me lightly against the wall of the hallway. My gaze dropped to his jaw, the line of his neck, his clavicle. When was the last time I’d touched a man’s clavicle? When was the last time I’d wanted to?
When was the last time I’d wanted to put my tongue to it and lick?
This wasn’t the good side of me, thinking these dirty things. This was…Bad Penny. I’d never acknowledged Bad Penny before, but here she was, standing here in this hallway, barely dressed, thinking about licking Wes Kane.
He didn’t touch me. He boxed me in against the wall, leaning on one perfect arm, and with his other hand he took a lock of my hair and let the curl loosely wind around his finger, just like he’d done before. He watched it move over his skin with dark eyes that I couldn’t look away from.
His eyes met mine again, my hair still around his finger, and the air was suddenly so thick I couldn’t breathe. He hadn’t been with anyone in a year, and neither had I. Suddenly that seemed like the worst idea we’d ever had. Both of us were bottled up and aching for it—for something, anything. I felt like I would die if he didn’t touch me.
As if he’d read my mind, Wes let go of the lock of my hair and lowered his hand to the strap of my camisole. He did it slowly, his gaze on his hand, as if he was as hypnotized as I was. His fingertips lightly brushed my shoulder, and then slowly, so slowly, he lowered the strap of my camisole so that it brushed my upper arm, his skin leaving just the faintest trail of sensation along mine.
Bad Penny let him do it.
My nipples went harder and my breath came short. I’d put my glasses on—to find the bathroom in an unfamiliar house—and I thought for sure they would fog. My lips were parted. The touch of his fingertips on my shoulder was sending flutters of sensation all over my body. I’d had entire sexual experiences that hadn’t turned me on as much as I was right now. I’d had entire relationships that hadn’t turned me on this much.
Wes’s thumb brushed my collarbone, and he moved his hand along the bare skin he’d uncovered, the expanse just above my breast. The fabric of my camisole had sagged, but most of my breast was still covered. Wes moved his hand and lowered the cloth one inch, and then another.
My bare toes curled against the carpet. I felt my thighs clench, though whether they were trying to open or close I couldn’t tell. Bad Penny wanted him to keep going. I wanted him to lower the other strap, and then lower the camisole all the way, and I wanted—
This was Wes Kane.
“We can’t.” My words came out in a pathetic breath. The tone of my voice said please, please don’t stop. I like this so much.
But Wes heard the words. His hand paused where it was, halfway down my covered breast. Only his fingertips were on my skin there; no other part of him was touching me.
“You’re right,” he said softly, though he made no move to drop his hand or cover me up again.
This was good. We had to be rational. I had to be rational, even though I was so close to those blue eyes and that chest. “It’s a really bad idea,” I managed.
Wes nodded, but his thumb moved over my collarbone again. I didn’t think he even knew he was doing it. “We could think about it, though,” he said softly.
I couldn’t form words with his thumb moving like that. “What?”
“We could just think about it. Without acting on it.” His thumb moved again. “Then we’re not really doing anything.”
Thinking. That sounded safe, much safer than what we were about to do right now. Much safer than what part of me wanted