“You asked me earlier what it was like to come home,” I say.
Haley nods. I lace our fingers together and raise them into the air. “I couldn’t answer you because I didn’t know, but now I do. This—” I rock our hands “—I finally found home.”
Chapter 49
Haley
West and I have been officially together for a week. I swapped shifts so that I now work on Mondays and have Fridays off. This way, I can train with John in the morning, train West in the afternoon, then spend quality time with my boyfriend.
On the flat screen in West’s room, the movie ends and, to be honest, I have no idea what it was about. West watched his fingers tease and explore my body until my skin vibrated and my blood buzzed. I, for the most part, watched West.
I love the serious set of his jaw and the way he’d occasionally run his hand over his golden hair. The biceps in his arm would flex as he moved and, every now and then, his shirt would ride up, exposing his gloriously defined abs.
I’m flat on his bed and West is propped up on his side next to me. His fingers sweep across the plane of my stomach and his deep blue eyes follow an imaginary line like an artist would a paintbrush along a canvas. “You’re the sexiest damn thing. Jesus, your skin is soft.”
West shuts his eyes and I suck in a breath. This is dangerous. Very dangerous. My lips are still swollen from earlier. Kissing West is addictive. It propels me to want to kiss and touch more and travel with him to unknown and hidden places. And I secretly begin to imagine the type of kissing that involves darkness and covers and whispers.
His fingers slip under the already tucked up fabric of my shirt and he gently skims the trim of my bra. Heat explodes throughout my body and my breathing hitches. It’s frightening how I react to one simple caress.
Not good. Not good at all. Actually, it’s very good and I all but purr with his hands on my bare skin, but I need to think. I need air.
Without warning, I go to roll off the bed, but in lightning-fast movements, West captures my waist and draws me back to him. “Where are you going?”
“You’re going to kiss me again,” I say a little breathlessly.
“Yes, I am. Not sure if you knew, but last week was my birthday so that means I get a two-week grace period of presents. Kisses come with the territory. It’s a state law.”
I giggle. “Now you’re playing the birthday card.”
“Play it. Use it. Own it.” His voice hums over my skin as his fingers begin to roam. Oh Lord in heaven, I’ve never experienced this type of mesmerizing intimacy in my life.
“Anything to kiss you again,” he whispers into my ear and I shiver.
An overpowering urge screams to melt into him, to hold him, to wrap my body around him, but it’s the small voice begging me to listen to reason I cling to. “I need this to go slow.”
“Slow.” He nibbles on my ear and pleasurable goose bumps form on my neck. “I can make this as slow as you need.”
This is killing me because I crave his kisses, but... “Er. At least slower.”
West sighs, then falls back onto the bed, rubbing his face with both his hands. “I can do slower. It’s possible.” With a moan, West shoves off the bed, puts on his shoes and offers me his hand. “Let’s go for a drive. That should be safe.”
We end up in West’s SUV, driving around for hours talking about Rachel and hospitals, Isaiah and Abby, his relationship or nonrelationship with his father, how he’s been following his mother for over a year and Abby’s confession that his mother visits her brother at the bar.
“What are you going to do?” I ask as West stops at the last red light before we turn into my uncle’s neighborhood. “About your mom?”
He switches the hand he drives with and stares off into space. “I don’t know. I’ll try to talk to Abby again, but the more I talk to her, the further down the rabbit hole I fall.”
It’s like how I feel when I have a conversation with Matt. For a few seconds last week, I considered his deal. I could return to Matt for twenty-four hours, for a day, and then he’d be forced to keep his word and wipe the slate clean. But due to what’s happened with West, for better or worse, the option is no longer on the table.
Unable to look at him, I pick at lint on my shirt. “What number girlfriend am I?”
The light changes and West takes the right. “I’ve never had a girlfriend before.”
I laugh, then sober up when his mouth bunches to the right.
“You’re kidding,” I say.
He shakes his head and my imagination clicks at full speed. “You don’t kiss like you’ve never had a girlfriend.”
West scratches the shadow forming on his chin and is unusually silent for him. My stomach sinks. Crap. Just crap. “How bad?” I ask. He said he hooked up before, but how many hookups is he talking?
Silence. A long silence. Silence should be forbidden.
“Bad,” he finally answers.
The interior of the SUV darkens as we enter the lightless viaduct of the neighborhood. My skin pricks as the ghosts of West’s beautiful, bold and uninhibited lipstick-and thigh-high-wearing hookups hover near me. I bet they knew every secret move, every intimate whisper, and never blushed or fidgeted when touching went too fast and clothes were shed too quickly.
“Matt’s the only boyfriend I’ve ever had,” I admit. “The only guy I’ve ever kissed.”
The washed-out sympathetic glance he throws me makes me want to shoot myself. He already knew. Sitting here in a pair of faded jeans, I have never felt as homely as I do now. I’m going to freaking strangle Jessica. I’m sure she gave him an entire history lesson on me.