My Cone and Only Page 18

  Fuck.

  It went on like that for the whole rest of the set. The two of us competing to see who was better at driving the other to distraction. I was pretty sure she was winning, based on the state of my blood pressure by the time we finally closed with a singalong rendition of “Don’t Look Back in Anger.”

  After we’d packed up our gear and cleared the stage, I waded into the crowd on the patio, which had swelled and grown rowdier as the night wore on. Someone thrust a beer into my hand as I greeted a few people I knew. I let myself be pulled into a conversation with a couple of Matt’s friends, but my eyes kept going back to Andie, who was still sitting next to Evan fucking Thayer.

  Eventually some of the college students came over to talk to us, including the girl who’d been flirting with me. Her name was Hannah and she was way too young for me, but that didn’t stop her from draping herself all over me—to the obvious chagrin of one of the dudes in her friend group.

  I knew Andie was watching us and probably going out of her fucking mind, but this was what we’d agreed to. Although I made damn sure not to give Hannah any encouragement or let her attentions go too far—rules were rules, and I wasn’t about to violate Andie’s trust—I needed to maintain the charade of being single in order to avoid raising suspicion.

  After a few minutes, I took pity on Hannah’s poor moping guy friend and extricated myself from her company. As my gaze wandered in search of my next destination, I saw Rain get up from her table, leaving an empty seat on the end right next to Andie.

  I still hadn’t greeted her yet, and since I’d always made a point of saying hi to her in the past, I headed that way. After a whole night of keeping my distance, I needed to be close to her and talk to her, even if it was just so I’d have an excuse to stare at her for a few minutes.

  Sliding into the empty spot on the bench next to Andie, I draped my arm around her shoulders. “Hey you.” After our self-imposed time apart, that simple, casual touch both soothed me and set my heart racing. I’d missed her so much it felt like one of my own limbs had been removed.

  She’d been talking to Evan and doing her best to ignore me, but now she turned and let me pull her in for a casual hug. “Hey you.” Her voice was low and subdued, with an edge to it like she was straining to keep it even. I could feel her reluctance to cut our hug short as sharply as I felt my own.

  “Hey, Wyatt.” Evan leaned around Andie to give me a half-hearted nod. The guy had been chasing her forever and was clearly not thrilled to have me here competing for her attention. I might have mustered some sympathy for him if he hadn’t just spent the last hour cozying up to my girlfriend.

  I released Andie and returned Evan’s greeting before my gaze found its way back to her again. Her expression was hard to read, and my brow furrowed as I studied her. “Everything okay?”

  Her leg shifted subtly to press against mine as she offered a restrained smile. “Great. How about you? Having a good time tonight?”

  “I’ve had better.” I shrugged as I pressed my leg back against hers. “I’m hoping it’ll improve later.” My plans for later involved fucking Andie senseless, preferably after tying her up and lavishing attention on every beautiful inch of her body—but no one other than the two of us needed to know that.

  Before Andie could say anything else, her friends Megan and Kaylee started talking to me, and I was forced to direct my attention across the table to them. I offered them a slightly more subdued greeting than usual as I kept my leg pressed up against Andie’s.

  I was so distracted by thoughts of what I wanted to do to her later that when her hand squeezed my thigh, I nearly jumped out of my seat. Recovering, I schooled my expression as Andie’s fingers curled around my leg to touch the inseam of my jeans.

  Heat erupted in the pit of my stomach as her hand slid higher, and I leaned forward to rest my crossed arms on the table and hide what was going on in my lap. As Andie casually chatted with her friends, her hand steadily inched up my leg, out of sight.

  My whole body clenched in anticipation as she neared the painful hard-on in my pants. Wanting it—needing it—despite the risk of getting caught. The sense of danger heating my blood and making me want it even more.

  Just before she got all the way there, her hand came to a stop. Simultaneously relieved and disappointed, I let out a long, shaky breath.

  As soon as I let my guard down, Andie squeezed my thigh again, her fingers digging in hard enough to make me see stars as her hand grazed my dick.

  My spine went rigid and I dropped a hand in my lap to cover hers, seizing it mid-stroke and holding it still. Andie didn’t move, or look at me, or in any way acknowledge what we were doing. She kept right on talking to her friends while my hand held her hand on top of my dick.

  My heart hammered as my better angels warred with the devil inside me. I couldn’t have told you what Andie’s friends were talking about if my life depended on it. I just kept nodding vaguely and hoped to hell no one asked me anything.

  Andie’s fingers pressed down, and the devil kicked those angels to the curb. Swallowing a rush of saliva, I let go of her hand.

  Glutton for punishment? Hell yeah, that’s me.

  Her gaze drifted my way, and she smiled slightly—mischief glinting in her eyes—before turning back to her friends. Slowly, so no one would see her arm moving, she stroked her fingers over me.

  A bead of sweat formed at my hairline, and I reached up to wipe it away. She rubbed harder, and I gritted my teeth, forcing out a long breath through my nose.

  “You okay?” she asked mercilessly, turning her gaze on me again. “You look a little flushed.”

  “I’m great.” My voice was so rough it was almost a growl.

  “Here, have my water,” Kaylee said sweetly. “You’re probably dehydrated from all that sweating you did onstage.”

  “Thanks.” My fingers clenched around the plastic bottle she pushed toward me, nearly crushing it before I managed to check myself. Carefully, trying not to let my hands visibly shake, I unscrewed the lid and took a drink.

  I nearly choked to death when Andie curled her fingers and dragged her knuckles over my cock. Coughing, I reached up to wipe my mouth as every eye at the table glanced my way.

  “Pardon me,” I rasped into my hand, my face reddening as Andie ruthlessly continued to rub me. Heat streaked up my spine, crackling like electricity as the pressure built inside me, and I shifted my leg, unable to keep still.

  Andie watched me as she pressed even harder, and I had to bite down on my tongue to keep from groaning.

  Fortunately, somebody chose that moment to climb up on one of the nearby tables and dance along with the song playing over the sound system. Everyone at our table turned to watch and egg him on.

  Thank the sweet baby Jesus, because I couldn’t hide my full-body shudder as Andie’s hand moved faster, her lips parting and her eyes darkening as they stared into mine. I was about to go out of my mind from the tension scraping through my veins like ground glass.

  Before I lost it and jizzed in my pants at the table, I hauled myself out of my seat, muttering an excuse about needing to take a leak as I tried to hide the raging bulge in my pants.

  Stumbling inside the bar’s cramped interior, I made my way down the dingy back hall that led to the restrooms. Instead of going into the men’s room, I pushed out the back door and into the loading zone beside the dumpster.

  I sagged against the wall, trying to calm my breathing as I conjured a series of unsexy images to alleviate my current physical predicament. People chewing with their mouths open. My stepmother’s spandex yoga outfits. The vomit and urine stains painting the side of the dumpster next to me. That one nearly did the trick until the door swung open, and Andie stepped outside.

  I tossed her a glare as she let the heavy metal door slam behind her. “Are you trying to kill me?”

  Her mouth quirked. “Maybe.”

  She took a step toward me, and I held up my hand. “Don’t you dare.”
>
  Ignoring me, she slipped her arms around my waist and pressed her lips to the base of my throat. “I hated that fucking song,” she growled into my neck.

  “Which one?”

  Her teeth bit into my skin hard enough to make me twitch. “You know which one.”

  I had a guess. “‘Are You Gonna Be My Girl?’”

  The song I’d sung while looking at that college kid, Hannah. The one with the lyrics that sounded like I was hitting on her, even though it had been Andie’s face in my mind the whole time, Andie’s long brown hair I’d been thinking about, and Andie’s hand the only one I’d wanted to take.

  I slid my fingers into her hair and tilted her head back so I could look at her. Channeling all my hunger and longing, I adored her with my eyes as I dragged my thumb slowly across her cheek. “You know you’re the only girl I want, right?”

  “I better be.” Her voice was low and rough, with a betraying hint of rawness beneath the challenging tone.

  “You are.” I kissed her, and warmth spread across my chest as her mouth softened against mine. “No one else comes close to you. You’re all I can think about.” I moved my mouth to her ear, and she shivered against me. “You’re mine.”

  “And you’re mine.” She curled a fist in my shirt and claimed me with her mouth, her lips lush and demanding as her tongue delved deep, marking her territory with a possessiveness that sent a thrill sizzling through me. “You better not fucking forget it.”

  Just when I was starting to consider the idea of fucking her right here up against the wall next to the dumpster, she broke off the kiss and pulled back. “I guess I’m gonna have to punish you for singing that song to another woman.”

  Heat licked up my spine and I nodded, grinning like a fool. “God, yes. I definitely need to be punished.”

  My god, how I adored this woman. It boggled my mind how she always knew exactly what buttons to push to turn me into a quivering mass of jelly. How did I ever get so damned lucky?

  She trailed her fingers down my chest, smoothing the front of my T-shirt. “I’m going back inside to say good night to my friends. I expect you to be at my place by the time I get there.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  An unfamiliar giddiness fluttered through my stomach as I watched her walk away. It wasn’t just desire, although she’d definitely gotten my motor revving. This feeling that filled me up, making me want to float off the ground, was something softer and a lot more powerful than simple attraction.

  It should have scared the shit out of me, but I didn’t feel any of my usual instinct to run away. Quite the opposite. I wanted to run toward Andie and everything the future held for us. Full speed ahead. All systems go.

  Christ, would you listen to me? I was turning into Tanner.

  Next thing you knew, I’d be telling Andie I loved her.

  19

  Andie

  As I sipped my beer, watching the couples circle the floor at King’s Palace, a single question kept bobbing to the surface of my mind.

  What the hell am I doing?

  This was the second night in a row that Wyatt and I had gone out separately together, willingly putting ourselves in this weird-ass situation. Playing this twisted game of pretending not to care about each other.

  I shouldn’t like it.

  But I fucking loved it.

  There was no reason we had to be here tonight. We’d chosen this. Freely and of our own volition.

  Last night had been different. Shiny Heathens had had a gig, and there was no way I was letting Wyatt go to the Rusty Spoke alone. Not when I knew what he looked like up on that stage. Confident, swaggering, exuding raw magnetism. His voice as smooth as a lover’s caress. His tattooed arms flexing as his deft fingers strummed the guitar strings. His hips swaying in those tight jeans and his golden skin shining with sweat. That dreamy come fuck me look he got on his face when he was crooning his heart out.

  It was enough to drive a nun to lustful thoughts, much less the single women of Crowder.

  I hadn’t gone only to keep Wyatt in line, although jealousy had definitely been a factor. Along with maybe a hint of distrust, if I was being completely honest. I’d watched the man sleep his way through the population of this town far too long to simply accept that he’d suddenly given up his freewheeling ways. I wanted to believe it, but I wasn’t good at taking things on faith. I needed to collect more empirical evidence to support the hypothesis before I’d be ready to accept it as truth.

  So yeah, I’d been keeping an eye on him and on any women who might decide to shoot their shot with Wyatt King. But I’d also been keeping my eye on him because I’d always loved looking at him when he was singing on that stage.

  How many times had I watched him up there and fantasized that he was singing to me? And last night he’d done exactly that. My fantasies had become reality, and it had been a powerful high. Seeing him up there looking like a sex god and knowing he was my sex god went a long way to making up for all those years I’d spent pining for him.

  During the show last night, his eyes had singled me out in the audience with an intensity that had become familiar over the last week. I’d heard tones in his singing voice that echoed the sweet murmurs and dark growls he’d uttered in my bed. I’d watched his fingers move over those guitar strings with the memory of how they’d felt touching me.

  It should have been enough to tide me over for a lifetime. Especially after we’d gone back to my place and had what was far and away the best sex of my life, all that pent-up jealousy and frustration driving us both to heights that made our prior efforts seem laid-back and tame.

  There was absolutely no reason we’d needed to come to King’s Palace tonight. We could have stayed home and enjoyed each other’s company like two normal people.

  But no.

  Tonight was totally on me. I’d been the one to suggest coming here. Because I’d wanted another taste of that thrill I’d experienced last night.

  It was weirdly addictive. The excitement of having a secret and flaunting it in front of people. Seeing how far we could push it without getting caught. Toying with each other. Making each other jealous. Getting off on it.

  How fucked-up was that?

  Based on how quickly Wyatt had agreed to my suggestion tonight, it was safe to say I wasn’t the only one getting off on it. We were both on board this twisted train. Choo choo.

  We’d been here an hour, and Wyatt had already asked four different women to dance, none of whom had been me.

  I could tell he was messing with me. He kept making the rounds of the room, stopping to chat—or flirt—with everyone he knew along the way. Pretending not to see me. Acting like he was about to head my way, then breaking off to ask someone else to dance. After which he’d start the whole routine over again. Circling me like a raptor. Doing his best to torment me.

  That was okay. I knew he’d find his way over to me eventually. He was having a good time delaying the moment we were both itching for, but he wouldn’t be able to resist forever. He wasn’t going to pass up a chance to dance with me tonight.

  I’d been doing my best to ignore him and the rising fever in my blood. Sometimes, when I noticed him looking my way, I’d turned my back on him and go talk to someone else.

  Flirting had never been one of my finer skills. My sarcasm and bluntness tended to get the better of me. I preferred teasing and bantering with men over being nice to them, but tonight I gave it my best shot.

  I’d danced with three different men—including Wyatt’s brother Tanner—and felt a reckless satisfaction the whole time, knowing Wyatt was watching me and grinding his teeth.

  He wasn’t the only one enjoying this game.

  “It’s weird that Wyatt hasn’t come over to say hi yet.” Megan frowned as she watched him talk to someone over by the bar, then turned her frown on me. “Don’t you think it’s weird?”

  I shrugged. “I think it’s just Wyatt being Wyatt.”

  “He was acting weird last n
ight too,” Kaylee said.

  “Was he?” I asked, playing dumb.

  Megan ignored me and pointed at Kaylee. “You know what? You’re right. He seemed all distracted when he was sitting with us. And then he just up and disappeared without a word.”

  I sipped my beer to hide my smile, remembering why he’d been so distracted. The way he’d trembled at my touch under the table. Helpless to resist. Completely at my mercy. I loved seeing him lose control of himself because of me, and I loved knowing I had a special claim on him—even if no one else did.

  Had I done it in part because I wanted to get caught? Had I been hoping to force the issue so we’d have to take our relationship public?

  Not consciously, but I couldn’t say I’d be that upset if we blew our cover.

  Wyatt would though. I’d seen how freaked out he’d been by the prospect of my brother finding out about us. I was trying to be understanding, because I knew how much Josh meant to him. But maybe Wyatt had put my brother too high up on a pedestal. I knew Wyatt listened to Josh more than he listened to me or anyone else, and I knew he was afraid of disappointing him. Maybe he looked up to Josh a little too much—so much that he could be blind to my brother’s faults. Sometimes it felt like Wyatt underestimated his own worth—his strength, his loyalty, his kindness; all the qualities I admired about him—because he’d convinced himself he could never measure up to the best friend he’d canonized.

  Maybe all this was my way of rebelling against the stricture Wyatt had imposed on our relationship. It had been reckless, what I’d done. But god help me, it had felt good.

  It was hard, not being able to touch Wyatt. Even though his eyes had kept seeking me out last night to show me how much he missed me, I’d needed to physically feel the connection between us. To remind myself it was real.