Their Protector: An MC Outlaw Halloween Romance, page 83
“Very funny,” Wesley laughs.
“I wasn’t kidding.”
In the dim light from the window, I can see him look at me in shock.
“Your dad is seriously that much of a holy roller?”
I giggle again.
“Now you know what I had to live with growing up,” I tell him. “He was super strict.”
He runs his fingers through my hair.
“Everyone in your life is so intense and protective,” he comments.
“What do you mean?”
“Taylor. I know she’s your best friend, but don’t you think she acts a little… motherly?”
I can feel my back stiffen at the mention of Taylor’s name, ready to defend her.
“I don’t mean it in a bad way, necessarily,” he says, quickly. “But when you got up to make popcorn earlier and we paused the movie, she gave me quite the little warning lecture. It was nearly as scary as talking to your dad.”
I try not to laugh at the image of Taylor scaring Wesley. All five feet, three inches of her. As intimidating as a football coach.
“She basically just told me to be careful and not end up breaking your heart, because you’re like a sister to her,” he confesses. “But it was more her tone and body language that were scary, rather than the words she used.”
Usually I would think this was cute, but now I worry again about whatever Taylor had started to tell me earlier. I’m not sure whether she’s meddling, or just showing concern for me. I remind myself of how she’s always been there for me and how I know she only has my best interests at heart.
“It’s just that…” I begin, and then sigh.
“What?” Wesley asks, his breath close against my ear.
I think of all the things I’ve never told anyone, that I’d like to tell him, if only I could trust him. But I end up saying something different.
“I don’t know. Taylor is like a sister to me. We grew up together, and I can always count on her to have my back.”
“I can tell,” Wesley says. “It must be nice to have such a good friend.”
It is , I think, and I remind myself to thank Taylor later. I haven’t exactly been the best of friends to her lately, but it’s only because my mind has been a little preoccupied with a certain someone, which I know she understands. Because she always does.
In the silence that ensues, I wonder if we’ll get close enough for me to tell him what else is on my mind. And then, as if he can read my thoughts, he says,
“It sounds like you were going to say more, maybe?”
I take a deep breath, and decide that now is as good a time as ever to open up to the one guy who has caught my attention since I saw him stride onto my father’s football field as if he owned it. He has a way of doing that. Like right now, with my heart.
“Just that if Taylor seems motherly, it’s because I mostly grew up without a mother, and I guess she came to fill that role over time. Older sister, mother… I don’t know. But she’s always been there for me no matter what. She just looks out for me, is all.”
He pulls me closer and tighter and says, “You deserve to have someone looking out for you. I’m sure it wasn’t easy…”
He stops there, and I’m glad. That’s all the sadness I can take in one evening. I want to just enjoy being here with him.
I lean my head closer to him and he kisses me, just like I want him to.
He tastes like the woods and smells like the lake. His strong hand on the back of my head feels like it was put there just for me.
As if invigorated by the feel of our lips joining together, Wesley gently rolls over on top of me and pins my arms behind me, in a gesture that combines both sweetness and possessiveness. I love it.
Is this it? Are we going to…?
But he shimmies down, under the covers, and kisses the skin above my drawstring pajama bottoms while he slides them down. He holds onto my hips and starts kissing my thighs.
It feels better than I could ever have imagined. I open my legs slightly and he inserts a finger into me while kissing all around, teasing me. Then he begins rubbing my clit with his other hand.
“You have such a perfect pussy,” he tells me. “I just want to kiss it.”
I can feel myself getting wet at his touch, his kisses, and the way he says that still forbidden sounding word, “pussy.” I arch my back slightly while his touch intensifies.
He almost brings me to climax while rubbing my clit, but then he begins kissing it.
Just when I’m coming down from the high, he begins gently sucking on my clit, and I feel it pulsate beneath his mouth. I’m dangerously close to coming.
It feels amazing, how he fingers me inside and sucks on my clit from the outside, at the same time. I lie back and feel electricity run through my entire body as his tongue explores all around my pussy.
“Wesley,” I whisper, as he lightly bites my clit. “That feels so good.”
“Good,” he says, returning to sucking on it.
A few seconds of his lips sucking my clit, alternating with his tongue expertly stroking my pussy, is all that it takes.
“I’m coming,” I tell him, as I grip the pillow beneath my head.
A feeling of complete surrender overtakes me, and I can feel my legs shaking underneath Wesley’s. He pins them down with his own legs, until they’re still.
“Great,” he says, as my breath quickens to the point that I can’t even talk anymore.
I let go and give in to the orgasm that washes through my entire body.
He waits until I’m finished coming, and then he moves his mouth away from my pussy long enough to say, “That’s my goal. I want to make you feel good, all the time. You deserve it.”
A girl could get used to helping him achieve this goal.
Chapter 18 – Chelsea
Muscles, speed, and power, all mixed with a certain kind of grace. Wesley
Reynolds really does seem to have it all. And he’s mine. All mine.
At least I think he is, and hope he is, even though we haven’t had any kind of official “relationship conversation.” And even though my dad will kill him if he finds out, which makes even the possibility of an official relationship rather complicated.
But I want him to be mine. So much so that I’m watching him run practice drills rather than paying attention to training my squad. After returning from the weekend at the lake house I’m back to my daily grind, which includes heading cheerleading practice, but all I really want to do is spend more time with Wesley.
I’ve never really been like this before. I guess you could say I’m the stereotypical overachiever. Focused. Dedicated. Determined. Too busy to lose my head over boys. But then along came Wesley, and his mouth, his tongue, his lips, his fingers…
“Alright, everyone, time for those laps,” shouts my dad, blowing his coach’s whistle at his football players and interrupting my fantasies.
I turn back to my squad, groaning inwardly almost as much as the football players are groaning aloud.
My dad says something to the team, and although they’re too far away for me to hear him clearly, I know he’s reminding them of the laps they have to run every day after training for two weeks, due to their disobedience of his tactical plans during last week’s game.
Wesley doesn’t seem to mind running the laps as much as his teammates do, even though he’s the main reason everyone got into trouble. He has the audacity to wink at me as he turns around the bend, heading in my direction before curving around the other way. I blush, hoping none of the other girls notice.
What a cliché .
The cheerleader and the quarterback.
We’ll be the laughingstock of both of our circles.
If we ever become an item…
I ponder the problem throughout the rest of practice, and as soon as it’s over, Taylor walks up to me. I barely notice because I’m lost in thought.
“Don’t tell me you’re still lost in La La Land over him ,” she says, nodding in Wesley’s direction.
I laugh, knowing I can’t lie to her.
“It’s such a quandary,” I tell her. “I really like him, Taylor. Like, for real.”
“I know you do,” she says, sighing.
Good old Taylor. I know she likes Wesley enough too, or she’d never have agreed to let him stay with us for another night at the lake house, during what was supposed to be BFF bonding time. And she’d never have given him the “warning talk” that she doesn’t even know I know about.
“Thank you for being such a good friend,” I tell her. “I know I’ve been really wrapped up in other things lately.”
“You know what?” she says. “I was hesitant at first, but I know you have to know what you’re doing. You’re not one to jump into a relationship. Or to jump into bed with just anyone…”
My instant blush gives me away.
“Did you guys do it ?” she asks, “On the second night? I mean, no judgment here. I know I personally couldn’t have resisted that long to begin with…”
“No,” I tell her. “Not exactly. But what we did do was pretty amazing.”
“Wow, you really do take it slow,” she says, shaking her head in amazement.
“Well, it’s not like he pressured me,” I tell her. “Or else I’m not sure I could have held strong. So I’m glad he took it slow.”
“That’s great,” she says. “And it’s another reason I know he’s probably the right guy for you. I really wasn’t sure at first.”
“I know,” I tell her.
And then I brace myself before asking the question I’m not sure I want to know the answer to. The question that’s been on my mind for a while now.
“Taylor, you were telling me back at the lake house that you’d heard some things about Wesley?” I ask her.
She shrugs, and visibly blushes, before continuing.
“But I don’t know whether…”
“Just tell me,” I say. “Come on. You already started to, so just tell me.”
“I know that people can change though,” she says. “I’ve felt torn between warning you out of protection for your well-being and forgetting about it because you’re so happy.”
“Okay, so what is it?” I demand. “This is driving me crazy. Just tell me.”
“Well, I heard that Wesley’s here because he got kicked out of his old school. Huningdale. He was kicked off the football team and almost lost his scholarship and his ability to play college football at all.”
I clear my throat, not sure what I think about this. I guess I knew there must be some reason Wesley was playing for our dinky football team as a transfer student when he’s such a good player.
I’d figured he could play anywhere— and I didn’t really want to put much thought into where he was playing before or why he’s not playing there anymore— but I’d just told myself that maybe he has family ties here or something.
“And I guess there were a few things he did wrong to be kicked off,” Taylor continues, although I’m not sure I want her to. “Grades and stuff. But one reason was that he would hook up with all the cheerleaders and then just dump them and treat them like trash.”
It’s all I can manage to say in response. I feel like such an idiot.
“But this is all unsubstantiated,” Taylor hurries to add. “We don’t really know what happened.”
“Or how he treated them like trash,” I say.
“Exactly. Maybe they were just mad he dumped them. Which isn’t very nice, but what did they expect, if there were so many of them?”
What did they expect? What could I expect?
“This all came from Christian?” I ask her, remembering how eager Christian was to talk with her at the party. I’d thought he liked her, but apparently he just couldn’t wait to spread the latest gossip.
“Yeah,” she says. “He knows some people at Huningdale and even Wesley’s high school back in Piedmont. So although the information seemed kind of credited, it also came from someone who…”
“…is a total douchebag and weirdo,” I finish for her, knowing how Taylor hates to be mean about people.
“Exactly. Chelsea, after thinking it through I decided to just hold off on any judgment.” Taylor nods her head, as if convincing herself. “We don’t know enough and the source is shaky at best. So maybe just keep it in the back of your mind so as not to get hurt. But Wesley does seem to really like you. And he didn’t even pressure you for sex. That has to say something.”
“True,” I agree. “If he’s just in it for sex then he would have moved on to a more willing participant by now.”
Not that I’m unwilling , I think, despite my best intentions.
I know what she means about trying not to get hurt, and I don’t want to. What started out as just a fling has become a lot more to me. And now that my emotions are this involved, I’m definitely more at risk for getting hurt, so I need to be careful. But it’s hard for my head to get its message across to my heart all the time.
“So now you might understand my initial reservations a little bit more. I know I came across a little heavy handed but I’ve decided to ease up,” Taylor declares. “For now, anyway.”
“Thanks,” I tell her. “Now if only my dad could do the same.”
“Yeah.” She lets out a low whistle. “That’s a big problem.”
“I’ve decided I need to talk to Wesley about it,” I tell her.
“Oh whatever,” she laughs. “You probably just want another excuse to see him again.”
“Probably!” I join in with her laughter. “But seriously. I don’t want my dad messing this up for me, like he’s scared away all the other guys in the past.”
“Hopefully he’ll see this one’s different,” Taylor agrees. “I know he does want you to be happy. But it might take a while. He might just see Wesley as some cocky player, both on the field and off…”
… And maybe he is .
I finish her sentence for her in my head, although she doesn’t finish it out loud.
Maybe while I’m talking to him about what we should do about the situation with my dad, I’ll also ask him about these past allegations that Taylor has just passed on. There has to be some plausible explanation.
I look across the field at Wesley’s toned, athletic, tattooed body and I know that I should probably heed common sense and run away as quickly as possible. But I also know I’ll do whatever it takes to be with him. I just hope he feels the same way about me.
Chapter 19 – Chelsea
While the guys are still running laps, I slip into their locker room and tape a folded-up note on the front of Wesley’s locker, which asks him to meet me at the pool. I don’t sign it, just in case my dad sees it. Then I head to the pool at the college’s gym, and read a book on the bleachers.
I like to come to this pool whenever I can. Although I’ve never been much of a swimmer, I find it comforting to watch the agile bodies of the athletes as they swim their laps. They look orderly and controlled, always finding their way back to the same spot in the pool in which they’d started. I even like to listen to the graceful splashes they make in the water while I read.
I’m beginning to think that Wesley won’t show up. Maybe someone else got to my note and ripped it off as a cruel joke, or maybe he’s really just not as into me as I’d thought.
Maybe my dad saw the note, and he and Wesley are fighting right now. At first these worried thoughts pass through my mind as I anxiously scan every person who walks in, but I know none of them.
Then I become immersed in my book, and nearly forget where I am or why.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her…
Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder that causes me to nearly jump off the bleache
“Sorry, sorry,” Wesley says, running a hand through his wind-blown hair. “Your dad had the entire offensive team run so many laps…”
“No problem,” I tell him, although I think it’s cute that he’s so worried about being late for a meeting I’d just spontaneously arranged without much advance notice at all. “Sorry I got so scared. I was just lost in this book and forgot where I was. But no worries about being late. I know how my dad can be. In fact, that’s precisely the reason I needed to talk to you.”
“Oh yeah?” he asks, raising his eyebrows with interest. “You think he might be getting suspicious about us?”
“I don’t think so.” I shrug. “But you never know. He’s so strict with me that I thought we might talk about our game plan…”
I pause, not used to opening up and being so vulnerable. I don’t actually have a game plan, but I’m hoping that Wesley will jump in with some ideas.
“I thought that note you left for me was hot,” he says, leaning in close to whisper in my ear.
I’m surprised by the seemingly sudden change of subject. But if he thinks that something I did was hot, I’m willing to hear about it.
“Yeah,” he says, kissing my cheek and then nuzzling my neck with his nose. “The forbidden coach’s daughter is leaving me secret notes. Right out in the open. I love it.”
I pull away a little bit. This topic of conversation wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind.
He leans back into me, as if oblivious as to my confusion. “And I love how you thought up the pool as our secret meeting place.”
I stare at him blankly.
“It’s funny,” he continues. “Swimmers and football players and cheerleaders are all athletes, but our paths rarely ever cross. It’s very unlikely that anyone would recognize us here. Good thinking.”
I nod, although that’s not why I had chosen the pool as our meeting place. I know, though, that my reasons for liking to come here don’t make a lot of sense, and it’s nothing I feel like explaining to him now.
Maybe part of me wanted to share one of my favorite spots with him, and I feel silly about that now.