Stumbling into Love
Page 2

“Good.” Smiling, he lets me go.
I wonder briefly if it’s too late to say I’m not okay just so he’ll hold on to me for a moment longer.
Sheesh, this guy is deadly.
“Thank you.” I bow at the waist while backing away.
He chuckles.
Turning on my heels, I head back for the bar as quickly as I can, thanking my lucky stars that I make it there without incident. I hop up on my stool—luckily still available—then motion for the bartender. As soon as I have her attention, I point at my empty glass. She nods.
“Do you mind if I join you?” I don’t even have to look to know who’s asking that question. My body reacts to him the same way it did seconds ago. Goose bumps break out across my skin, and a shiver slides down my spine. The guy who has suddenly become the object of all my fantasies slides onto the empty stool next to mine.
“Sure.” I shrug, trying to play it cool.
He smiles.
“Wesley.” He leans closer to me, and my breathing goes funny.
“Pardon?” His grin shows off a perfect smile and straight, white teeth. I’ve never thought teeth were attractive until now, but there is something sexy about his.
“Name’s Wesley. You are . . . ?” He sticks his large hand out in my direction, and my stomach dances with nervous butterflies as I drop my eyes to it before looking at him once more.
That’s when I notice that his eyes are blue, but not just any blue. They remind me of the beach out on Long Island near my parents’ house, where I spent most of my childhood.
“I’m . . . um . . . Mac . . . Mackenzie,” I stutter, placing my hand in his much larger calloused one as I watch him smile.
“Nice to meet you, Mackenzie.”
“Uh . . . yeah. Nice to meet you.” I nod, feeling his thumb slide over the pulse at my wrist while our eyes stay locked.
“Here’s your change, and a fresh drink,” the bartender says, breaking the moment.
I pull my eyes and hand from Wesley’s as the bartender slides the cash across the top of the bar toward me and sets my new lemon drop down on a fresh napkin.
“Thank you.” I clear my throat, trying to get myself under control. This proves to be impossibly hard to do since I can feel Wesley’s eyes still on me—as well as his wide-spread knees on either side of my thigh.
“What are you drinking?” the bartender asks him.
I pick up my drink, realizing I need to do something with my hands so I won’t fan myself.
“Bud, in the bottle,” he says.
I feel his hand come to rest against my lower back and burn into my skin through my sweater.
I try not to look at him.
The bartender bends at the waist and straightens back up a second later with a beer in her hand that she sets in front of him after she opens it.
“Do you want me to start a tab?” she asks.
I watch in the mirror as he lifts his chin and hands her a credit card. She sets it behind the bar at the register before walking off once more to tend to her other customers.
“So what brings you here tonight?” Turning my head toward Wesley at his question, I wonder if I should lie. Then I wonder why the hell I’m wondering that since he doesn’t know me anyway. It would make no sense to lie to him.
“I was supposed to meet someone here for a drink, but he stood me up.”
“Someone stood you up?” he asks, sounding appalled on my behalf.
My lips twitch into a smile as I laugh.
“Yeah.”
“Idiot.” He shakes his head as his eyes roam over me. He takes a pull from his beer, and my stomach dances once more.
“Why are you here?” I ask after a moment, needing to fill the silence that has settled between us.
“I needed a beer.” He nods toward the bottle in his hand. “It was a long day.”
“Work?” I ask.
He nods once more as his eyes fill with something I can’t understand yet, but know I don’t like. Something about it makes me feel uneasy, like I want to protect him.
“Sorry,” I say softly, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him.
“Don’t be. I’ve got a cold beer in my hand, and I’m talking to a beautiful woman. Gotta say, my day’s looking up.”
The word beautiful makes me feel a little bit guilty. He has no idea that the woman he’s sitting with isn’t who I really am. I don’t normally look like this or drink martinis. He doesn’t know that I prefer to drink beer and never wear makeup unless I have to. Even the clothes I have on aren’t mine. They’re Libby’s. My closet consists of mostly T-shirts and jeans. I want to tell him all that, but I don’t. Instead, I decide to pretend for a little while longer that I’m someone else, that I’m the kind of woman a man who looks like he does would be interested in.
Two hours later, as I settle into the backseat of a cab with Wesley next to me, I wonder what the hell I’m doing.
I’ve had only two lovers in my life—both of them long-term boyfriends I didn’t sleep with until months into the relationship. I don’t do one-night stands. Or at least I’ve never had one before, but something came over me when Wesley asked if I wanted to get out of the bar. I don’t even think I realized that something inside me knew if I didn’t go with him, I would regret it for the rest of my life.
The door slams, and I listen as Wesley gives the driver directions to his place. I’m suddenly unsure of my decision.
“Hey.” His voice washes over me while his hand moves up my leg to the junction between my thighs.
My pulse quickens, and white-hot lust shoots through my system. The same lust I’ve been feeling all night. Meeting his gaze, I see that the same lust is staring right back at me. Licking my suddenly dry lips, I watch as his eyes drop to my mouth. A whoosh of breath leaves my lungs as he leans in.
The first touch of his lips to mine is soft and exploratory—a tease of what’s to come. Touching my tongue to his bottom lip, I feel his chest vibrate against mine. I whimper as he deepens the kiss, thrusting his tongue into my mouth to toy with mine while his hand in the hair at the back of my head tightens and tilts it, sending a sting of desire through me.
Pulling back when the cab comes to a stop, I pant as he pays the driver. I take his hand when he offers it and allow him to help me out of the backseat. Shutting the door behind us, he keeps my hand firmly in his as we walk down the sidewalk and toward a set of stairs that leads to the bottom level of a townhouse. After he unlocks and opens the door, I start to walk inside ahead of him. He stops me, wraps his hand around my waist, and moves his face close to mine. He’s so close that I can feel his warm breath brush against my lips as he speaks.
“You sure about this?” he asks.
My pulse, already thundering away, speeds up.
“Yes,” I whisper without having to think about my answer. Raising my shaking hands, I run my fingers through his hair. It’s just as soft and as thick as I thought it would be. I pull his mouth down toward mine.
Groaning, “Fuck,” his mouth captures mine as his hands slide down my back to my ass. He cups it, then lifts me off the ground like I weigh nothing at all. Wrapping my legs around his hips, I moan into his mouth. He walks us into his apartment, kicking the door shut behind us.
When I blink my eyes open, the early-morning light greets me through the partially opened blinds next to the bed. I realize I’m not home; then I feel the heavy weight of Wesley’s arm draped over my bare waist. I pull in a quiet breath and let it out slowly as I look around. The room is small—just big enough for the queen-size bed I’m lying on and a dresser tucked in the corner. There are no curtains covering the windows or pictures on the walls. There’s nothing to tell me anything about the man I just spent the night with. The man who held me throughout the night, the man still curled around me.
Worrying my bottom lip, I debate what I should do now that I’m awake. The idea of having to face Wesley when he wakes up sends panic pulsing through my system. I know enough from talking to friends that the morning after is always awkward for both parties, and I want to save us both that experience. Figuring it’s better to get out now, I carefully move out of his grasp. This isn’t easy to do because his hold on me seems to tighten whenever I make any leeway. Finally extracting myself from him and the bed, I quietly get up and search through our clothes—scattered across the floor—until I find my stuff.