Kiera’s fingers folded around the hairs at the nape of his neck, an act meant to mark territory, Lana only laughed as she continued speaking. “What can I get for you guys…and girls?”
“I’ll get the spicy chicken tenders, and my brother will get…a lot less pissy when you tell him why you haven’t called,” Abel said. Lana let out that laugh Wes had become so smitten with, and it allayed how irritated he was at Abel for making the statement.
“Oh, you two know each other?” Kiera asked. The grip on his neck slackened but then tightened again.
“I was considering giving you these sneakers back, dickhead,” Wes muttered, feeling a ring of heat around the collar from both sets of women’s eyes on him.
“He could’ve called me,” Lana explained to Abel.
“How’d they meet?” Kiera asked Charlotte.
“I’m sitting right here, everybody,” Wes said, splitting his annoyed look between his brother and Lana while waving his hands. “Right here, guys.” He turned an unpleasant look to Kiera, one caught between irritation and confusion. “C’mon, Ki, you can’t do that.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What? What am I doing? I’m just wondering how you know her.” She motioned at Lana, her hand claw-like and curiously managing to have only her middle finger curved and slightly lifted in Lana’s direction. “If she’s a friend, you can just tell me.”
Lana was completely undaunted by Kiera—and outright ignoring her—as she leaned toward him. “You could’ve called me, and you didn’t, Wes. If anything, we’re both to blame for why we haven’t spoken…” She was right, but they always called.And something about Lana not doing it captivated him. It was a strange pull, an odd tug-of-war between needing the instant gratification and liking the thrill that came with the chase, too.
From the corner of his eye, he spotted Abel and Charlotte performing some type of joint mime-like performance, with the two of them pretending to eat popcorn all wide-eyed, their amusement plain on their faces. So much for family.
“We’d like to take a moment to thank our sponsor OMFG, ” Charlotte mumbled, nudging Abel.
“Don’t forget WTF ,” Abel added.
Wes glared at them. For their respective punishments, fuckin’ Abel—whom he had helped out in countless situations with women—was never getting his shoes back, and Charlotte was about to become an indentured servant around the house, he decided. Though the awkwardness felt thick enough to stab Abel and Charlotte with, he was sort of entertained, too. Sort of. Liquor would help; it would make everything infinitely hilarious in a few minutes. But he was allowed to find this funny, not them . Oh well. Maybe this was the price to be paid for living by his dick.
Lana raised her foot to one of the rungs of his bar stool, and an impulse sent Wes’ gaze shooting down to examine the shape of her thigh. He thought about how he had been holding both of hers at Vices , andhe suddenly remembered everything else, too. The taste of her skin and how soft it was on his tongue. The weight of her body on his arms. The sound of her moans in his ear. The way being inside her felt. The memories sent an instant blood rush to his crotch.
“No response?” Lana asked, exhibiting enjoyment at his silence, but there was an intensity behind her stare, too. He wondered if she was reminiscing, and when she adjusted her foot until her thigh was resting against his, he got his answer. Damn, he needed this girl in his bed. Her bed. On this table. On anything horizontal. “I guess I’ll take your orders then…”
“I really did want those chicken tenders,” Abel said. “We have coupons.”
“And you?” Lana dropped her hand on Wes’ thigh and his leg actually jerked. Oh shit. Her gaze fell to his lap. He knew he had a hard-on…and now, so did she. Her eyes bounced up to