He pushed again, even though her body language screamed at him to leave her alone. But he needed to understand. “I founded a cybersecurity firm. I could have helped.”
“It was my problem.” Her voice was as stiff as her spine.
The answer was so Vivienne that he almost smiled, despite the minor traffic jam that was messing with his attempt to get in the other lane. “You always were the most stubbornly independent woman I ever met.”
“We were broken up! And I wanted to take care of it on my own because I don’t need to run to a man every time something in my life goes wrong.”
“I meant it as a compliment.”
Vivienne twisted her new accessory around her finger. “Oh.”
Since he’d penetrated her bravado, Wes kept talking. Viv always took a little while to open up.
“My mom used to fade into nothing when my dad was serving time. I thought that’s what love was for most of my life...staggering codependence. And then I met you, and it was, I don’t know, kind of refreshing that you didn’t need me like she needed my dad.”
He felt her gaze on him as they inched their way past the fender bender that had been holding things up, and Wes maneuvered the vehicle into the right lane.
“You were smart, and vivacious, and you had your whole future planned out. And for some reason, you wanted to be with me. That made me want to be better. You made me want to be better.”
His words had been meant to soothe her fears, but her anguished response let him know they’d had the opposite effect.
“God, Wes. If I’d known what I did would end up with you in jail...”
The threat of tears was there, wavering on the edge of her voice. He knew how much she hated that. Wes blew out a breath. It had been a long day, and she’d earned a break. They both had. They could get into the details tomorrow.
“It was nude photos, wasn’t it?”
Her gaze whipped to his profile. “What?”
“You shouldn’t have been embarrassed to ask me for help. If you think about it, I’m basically the most qualified person on the planet to help you deal with that kind of thing. Not only am I great with computers, I’ve seen you naked a lot. I’m sure I could have gotten them back for you. After an in-depth verification process to make sure all the photos were legit, of course.”
She gave him a shove, but laughter lurked at the corner of her lips, and relief poured through him that she’d smiled at least once.
It was their wedding day, after all.
“You hungry?”
Her eyes lit up, but she tried to mask it with a stoic shrug. “I could eat.”
Wes shoulder checked as he flipped on his signal light and snaked through traffic. “I know just the place.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
STEPPING INTO SEÑOR TACO’S was like stepping back in time.
“Man. This place hasn’t changed a bit.”
Vivienne nodded at Wes’s assessment as they walked into their old haunt.
The gray brick walls, scarred wood floor and dim ambient lighting gave the place a cozy feel. Washes of color came from the fluorescent signs that dotted the walls, advertising a multitude of Mexican alcohol, from Montelobos to Don Julio, and there was a cluster of intricate iron-work chandeliers hanging from the industrial ceiling over the small open area where people sometimes danced when they had live bands on Saturday nights.
They approached the dark wood bar that was inset with tile mosaics and lined with bottles of booze, backlit by blue spotlights.
“Hey. I’ll take a Corona and two shots of house tequila. And two orders of the street tacos,” Wes glanced over at her. “Al pastor and carne asada?”
She nodded at their standard order, feeling stupid that menu items seemed poignant to her. As did the offhand way he’d confirmed before ordering, even though they’d never had anything else off the menu. She fiddled with the ring on her left hand as Wes turned back to the guy at the cash register.
“You can add a side of guacamole and pico de gallo to that.”
After Wes paid, the guy rimmed two shot glasses with coarse salt, filled them with tequila, and laid a lime wedge across each of them. Then he added the Corona and a metal stand with a laminated number six clipped to it.
“Someone will bring out your tacos when they’re ready.”
Wes passed her his beer before he grabbed the shots in one hand and their table number in the other and they turned to face their old stomping grounds. Vivienne’s gaze migrated directly to the back corner, the table she thought of as “theirs.”
There were a couple of big guys with long, wiry beards sitting at it. Internally, she rolled her eyes at the pang of disappointment. She’d accused Wes of trying to summon the Ghost of Christmas Future, and here she was channeling the spirit of Christmas Past.
“Hold these for a second, would you?”
Vivienne accepted the shots in her empty right hand, even as she shook her head. “You don’t have to...there’s a table right over there. It’s fine.”
“I got this.”
She chewed on her bottom lip, watching as he walked over to the two burly, trucker types. No way were they just going to concede the spot when there was an empty table right in front of them. Vivienne turned to scope out anywhere else they could sit. There seemed to be a vacancy on the other side of the dance floor, as well. But much to her surprise, by the time she looked back, the truckers were on their feet, nodding chivalrously at her as they moved their giant burritos to the neighboring table.
Wes’s grin was smug as she approached, and he planted their number on the table like he was Neil Armstrong raising the flag on the moon.
“How’d you manage that?”
“I told them we’re on our honeymoon.”
Vivienne’s hand tightened around the beer bottle at the reminder, and the ring cut into her skin.
“And I gave them five hundred bucks,” Wes confessed, relieving her of the shots and setting them on the scarred wooden tabletop.
“Expensive tacos.”
“Yeah, well. I figure we saved a lot of cash on our wedding garb,” he motioned at her T-shirt and jeans, then his own, “so why not splurge?”
Wes’s attempt to keep things light was appreciated, but even so, her stomach gave a weird little bump as he tugged the stools to the same side of the table. The best formation for people watching, taco sharing and intimate conversation. She wondered if it was only habit, or if he’d made the conscious decision to set the table up like they had the night they’d met...and every other night they’d eaten at Señor Taco’s since.
She set the Corona on the table and they settled onto their seats.
Wes grabbed his tequila. “Salud.”
Vivienne followed suit, lime wedge in one hand, drink in the other. With a quick clink, they downed the pungent liquor. Then the sharp, sour tang of citrus made her scrunch up her nose. She and Wes dropped the rinds into their empty glasses in unison.
Wes. Her husband.
She was suddenly struck by the fact that she barely knew anything about him anymore. That little business venture he’d gotten so obsessed with toward the end of their relationship, the one he’d poured all that time and effort into, had grown into something incredible.
Not that she was surprised. Wes might not have gone to college, but he’d always been the smartest guy she’d ever met. She’d known he was destined for big things, even back then.
“So how long have you wanted to take Soteria public?”
Wes frowned slightly, shook his head as he ran a thumb along the condensation on his beer. “I don’t. I like not having to answer to anyone. The freedom of being able to try things without the pressure of it having to turn massive profits.”
“Oh, sorry. For some reason I thought Jesse said...” Vivienne flicked her hand, dismissing the thought. “
I was pretty distracted that day. Must’ve misunderstood.”
Wes stilled. “You saw Jesse?”
“I ran into him the other day in the men’s department at Neiman’s. He came over to say hi.”
There was something about the sudden tautness in his body as Wes crushed the lime wedge against the neck of his beer bottle before pushing it inside.
“It was a quick conversation,” she assured him, though she wasn’t quite sure why she felt the need to do so. “He was on his way to Whitfield Industries to try to woo Max into sticking with Soteria.”
“I’ve been trying to get in touch with him since the charges were dropped.”
“I’m sure he’s just really busy. He knows how much the company means to you.”
Wes nodded. Took a sip of beer. She was relieved that he looked more relaxed.
“So what were you doing at the men’s department at Neiman’s anyway?”
Vivienne cast around for a reason not to admit that she’d considered buying him clothes because his constant shirtlessness had been wearing down her attempts to keep her hands off him. Since she’d failed so spectacularly at the clothes buying and at keeping her hands to herself, the point was moot. In the end, she went with a classic subject change.
“The real question is, what was Jesse doing there? When was the last time that guy bought anything off the rack?”
Wes chuckled, relinquishing his beer when she reached for it—a habit so old and engrained that she hadn’t even realized she’d done it until the bottle was in her hand. “He does love to blow money on pretentiously expensive custom-made suits.”
“And country club memberships,” Vivienne added. “Vintage Corvettes. Rolexes.” Jesse had always loved a good status symbol. Or eight.
“And a luxury schooner.”
Vivienne’s eyes widened at the addition, Wes’s beer arrested halfway to her mouth. “He did not.” She took a long swallow. “Does he even sail?”
“No. He was at some auction and just wanted to outbid that douchey frat brother of his. The one who stole his girlfriend during spring break. Trina What’s-her-name. The heiress to the bagged salad fortune.”
Vivienne laughed as she handed back the Corona. “I remember that guy! He wore so much cologne.” She shook her head. “Jesse really bought a vengeance boat? That is a level of retribution I didn’t even know existed.”
A pretty raven-haired server with a high ponytail and the most perfectly winged eyeliner arrived with their tacos, and they both dug in with gusto.
Vivienne closed her eyes and hummed at the gustatory pleasure that was Señor Taco’s. “Oh, God. How have I stayed away from this place for so long?” she mumbled through the bite of heaven. “Still the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”
Her heart clenched hard at his lazy white smile. “I’ll try not to take offense at that.”
The sexual innuendo slipped under her skin.
He turned back to his taco, giving her leg a teasing bump under the table, but her body misinterpreted the casual contact as something far more charged. Her muscles clenched at the jolt of heat that Wes so easily unleashed in her.
They people watched as they ate. It was a good crowd. Lots of college students, judging by the number of T-shirts with school logos on them.
Vivienne watched in fascination as a couple of UCLA students stole past them hand in hand, all flushed cheeks and furtive giggles. The fact that they thought they were being sneaky in their quest for a quickie had her rolling her eyes.
“Nice to know Señor Taco’s restrooms are still seeing their fair share of action.”
“Is that censure in your voice?” Wes shoved their empty plates to the middle of the table. “Because if I remember correctly, you and I were responsible for a good portion of that action.”
“That was a long time ago.”
Wes stared at her for a little too long, and she wondered exactly what he saw in the dim light. His voice was low when he spoke again. “Not that long ago. And action has its charm. Sometimes talking’s overrated.”
He shifted on his stool, and their shoulders touched. “Those two agree with me.”
Vivienne followed the tip of his chin to find that, at some point during their conversation, a few couples had migrated to the dance floor to take advantage of the sensuous Latin beat. She didn’t need to ask who he was talking about.
They were mesmerizing—practically glowing with sexual energy as they used dancing as a thinly veiled metaphor for foreplay. Their bodies moving in unison, brushing against one another, only to retreat before coming together again. It was absorbing, the illicit heat of them.
This time, Wes’s leg didn’t bump hers so much as slide along it, and Viv sucked in a breath at the unexpected contact that turned watching into something more visceral.
“You remember what that was like?”
His voice was husky, seductive, and it prickled along her spine like a touch.
“Being so into someone that you can’t think straight. That undeniable pulse of desire that makes you want to push the limits.”
Wes pushed his stool back a little, angling his big body toward her. “That overwhelming rush of lust that makes your skin come alive.”
She shivered when his thumb traced the length of her arm. Vivienne was definitely alive in that moment. It was like someone had plugged her into a power source. Her cells vibrated with it. With him.
The scrape of wood on wood echoed in her ears as he grabbed the leg of her stool and tugged it in front of his. And just like that, she was between Wes’s legs, his chest at her back, his voice in her ear.
“That’s the kind of heat that makes you forget where you are. Who’s around.”
His hand came to rest on her hip, and her eyelids drifted shut as he traced his thumb along the waistband of her jeans, stopping just beneath her belly button.
“His world is just her right now.”
The reminder of the dancing couple made her open her eyes in time to watch the guy’s hands as they migrated up from the girl’s waist. His fingers were dangerously close to her breasts, flirting with that intoxicating line between PDA and public indecency charges.
“All he can think about is touching her.”
With the flick of Wes’s thumb, the button on Viv’s jeans went slack. She swallowed against the rush of warmth between her thighs.
“About getting his hands on her.”
She couldn’t hear her zipper over the music, over the beat of her own heart, but she felt the denim grow even looser.
Wes’s mouth was so close that his breath tickled her ear. Her lips parted on a silent sigh.
“That buzz is everything. The build of anticipation. The throb of it in their veins.”
The thrall of lust wound through her, consumed her.
“He’s so hard it hurts, and do you know why?”
“Why?” she breathed the word so softly, she wasn’t sure if Wes heard it over the bar din, or if he was just so deep in his story that her answer was irrelevant.
“Because he knows she’s wet for him.”
She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. So, so wet for him.
“He can smell her arousal. Feel the way she trembles beneath his touch.”
Her whole world had narrowed to the burn of his fingers on her abdomen.
“Until they’re so turned on, so wild with need, that they can’t handle the tease for another second.”
Vivienne squeezed her eyes shut as Wes slipped his hand in her panties. The stroke of his finger, precise and unerring, as he circled her clit with just the right amount of pressure.
An involuntary moan escaped her lips at the contact, half relief, half desperation.
“God, you feel so fucking good, Viv.”
She bit her lip as he pushed his hand deeper, so he could slip a fin
ger inside her. Yes. It was too much, and not nearly enough. She mewled in frustration.
“You want more?”
Thankfully, he didn’t wait for an answer before pressing a second finger inside her. Her body stretched to accommodate the slow, slick slide of his hand, and she leaned back against his chest, something solid as the promise of pleasure began to make the rest of the world go a little wavy.
She could feel the heat of his chest seeping into her back, the jut of his erection pressing against her ass.
Before long, she was rocking her hips in time with the steady drive of his fingers in her mindless quest for climax.
“Jesus. You make me so hard. I wish I was inside you.”
Wes finally gave her what she wanted, and with the twist of his wrist, the pad of his finger brushed her G-spot with every thrust.
Vivienne bit her lip, working herself against his hand, desperate for release. She was close. So damn close.
The rasp of his breath in her ear let her know he knew it, too. “That’s right. Come apart for me.”
Her body tightened at the sexy order, squeezing around his fingers, and then Wes pressed the heel of his hand against her clit and caught her earlobe between his teeth. The weightless free fall of orgasm rushed through her with unstoppable intensity.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“LET ME TAKE you home.”
That’s what he’d said when she could finally breathe again. When her heart rate had returned to normal operating parameters and she’d settled back into her body to find they were still at Señor Taco’s and that she hadn’t transcended into another plane of existence all together.
Which was why she shouldn’t have been surprised when Wes pulled up at his place, not hers. And as much as she wanted to look around the ritzy loft, with its big windows and manly, brown leather furniture and surprising sense of hominess, that was going to have to wait.
Right now, she needed to get Wes’s pants off.
She would have, too, but he impeded her progress by shoving her up against the door the second it closed and pinning her arms over her head so he could capture her mouth with his. The flavor of beer and tacos on his tongue might not do it for some women, but Viv figured their youthful antics had classically conditioned her to drop her panties faster for that taste than any response Pavlov had managed to get with his stupid bell.
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