The Complication (The Program #6)(81)

“Now, I don’t want to talk about the past anymore,” he continues, “or fights we’ve had, or my mother. Can we do that? Because I think I love you. And I want to save the world with you. So . . . I don’t know, can we stop ruining each other’s lives and just love each other at the same time?”

I stare at him, my heart swelling to the point of bursting. It’s everything I love about him, his pure way of looking at things. Even the faults. He sighs loudly, waiting for me to respond, and I smile.

“Why did you have to bring your mother into this?” I ask.

Wes coughs out a laugh, clearly relieved. “That was terrible of me,” he says. “But I’m guessing you’re cool with the other parts?”

I nod that I am, and he nods back like it’s finalized. We’re loving each other, concurrently. It’s settled.

Wes turns to the computer, clicking through posts until he gets frustrated and tries another forum. I watch him, finding the first bit of true contentment I’ve had in a while. I’m almost dreamy, setting aside the shambles of my life as I study him, noticing his dimples first, the way they’re always there even when he’s not smiling. The way he licks his lips. The fast clicking of his fingers on the keys.

And the second he turns to me, noticing that I’m staring, I lean over and kiss him.

He’s not surprised, not hesitant. Instead, his hand rests on the back of my neck, his lips moving against mine urgently, claiming me. Both of us gasp through our kisses, tongues intertwining. My head spins, and I move to my knees to get closer to him, knocking the bag of peas onto the carpet. Wes moans softly as he pulls me down on top of him, his other hand on my hip.

I straddle him on the couch, breaking the kiss to gaze down at him for a moment. Admire him as my heart races riotously. Wes’s eyes are glassy, his lips part as he smiles. He reaches for the bottom of my shirt, tugging me into another kiss, wrapping his arms around me. He devours me, and it’s not like before. He doesn’t kiss the same; he’s not touching me the same. This is all new.

Wes’s mouth is on my neck, his teeth grazing my skin, and I whisper his name, knotting my fingers in his hair.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs on my skin, our bodies moving against each other. “Fucking perfect.”

I’m half out of my mind as I yank off his shirt and then mine, and we crash back together. If we’re going to the break the rules by dating, we might as well break them all. His hand slides past my hip and between my thighs, and I melt against him. We’re kissing and smiling and about to get very naked, when there is a sharp knock at his basement door.

I sit up, my eyes blurry as I look in the direction of his room. Wes groans and drops his head back against the cushions.

“Seriously?” he says out loud. I move to the other side of the couch, my body still tingling. I pull my shirt back on, and Wes stands up, grabbing his from the floor and carrying it with him to the door.

He looks back over his shoulder at me, as if to say he doesn’t have to open the door. I motion for him to do it anyway. He exhales and opens it, resting on the door frame, blocking my view. I sit up straighter, waiting to see who it is.

“Tate,” Wes calls back. “It’s for you.”





CHAPTER SIX


MY HEART LEAPS INTO MY throat, and I quickly jump up, smoothing my hair and avoiding the spot that still hurts. Wes pushes the door open all the way, and I breathe out a sigh of relief when I see it’s Nathan. Standing behind him, Foster waves to me, mouthing hello.

Nathan flashes a disappointed look at Wes, who’s still shirtless, and walks past him into the basement.

Foster takes his time, chatting with Wes at the door to introduce himself, and then they both come into the living room. Foster heads in my direction and slyly holds his hand in a low five behind his back for me to slap. I do so with a laugh, and he takes a seat on the arm of the sofa.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Nathan says flatly. “But I thought I should follow up on the ‘attacked by handlers’ situation.” He looks from me to Wes. “Who would like to start?”

Wes grins, amused by Nathan’s attitude. He comes to stand next to me, still not wearing his damn shirt, and I falter a bit in my explanation.

“We should sit down,” I tell Nathan, motioning to the card table on the other side of the room. “It’s kind of a long story.”

Begrudgingly, Nathan makes his way to a seat, and Foster and I join him. Wes pulls on his T-shirt and flashes me a private smile before taking out his phone.

“I’m ordering a pizza,” he says. “Before the storm gets too bad. Everyone good with pineapple?”

“Absolutely not,” Nathan says immediately. Foster laughs and says he’s fine with whatever.

Wes gives us space, going into his bedroom to call in the pizza, and when he’s gone, Nathan stretches his arms out on the table in front of him and collapses on them dramatically. “Do I even want to know what’s going here?” he asks.

“I do,” Foster says encouragingly.

“I wish this was the height of my problems,” I say, drawing Nathan’s gaze. “I know Gram told you some of what happened today, but . . .” I shake my head as the fear crawls back in. My temporary distraction with Wes is gone, and my body begins to ache with the truth of my reality.