Take Me On

“Exorcize it?”


“Yeah.” West brushes his thumb against my knee and I watch the muscles in his arms ripple as he moves. “Fill you up with memories of me so there’s no room left for him.”

I wrap my arms around my waist, trying desperately to disappear. “What if it’s not the memories that frighten me?”

“Then what scares you?”

“What if I’m not terrified of you or him?” I swallow, unsure if I have the courage to say the words. “What if I’m terrified of me?”

His nonresponse confirms there’s no hope—none at all. Then my skin prickles with the light caress of fingers against my cheek. West urges me to lift my chin and it’s hard when the weight of his silence crashes on my shoulders.

“Then I’ll teach you how to fight the fear.”

“Teach me?”

“Teach you. First you’ve got to trust me.”

West’s fingers linger on my skin and I tilt my head toward the pleasing tickle. “I trust you.”

“Some,” he says. “But not all the way. When things get rough, you lock yourself in your head...resort to where you feel safest. Let me in, Haley. Let me bear some of your load.”

I know what he’s talking about...that smothering feeling when things grow too complicated. Those moments when I would have turned to my father or my brother, but then everything became lost and I had to learn how to depend on me. “How?”

“Start by talking to me.” West edges onto the bed near the pillows and offers me his hand. Tension thickens the air and I have to work harder to breathe. This is it; I either trust West or I don’t. I either tap out or fight.

My hand inches for his, a battle between falling and leaping. I’m choosing this—I’m choosing West. It’s like stepping out of a two-dimensional universe and walking into another when my fingers meet his and he draws me up along beside him. Colors seem richer, smells stronger. West snakes his thumb underneath my shirt and heat builds between our skin.

“Talk to me,” he says again. “Uncensored.”

I suck in air and I’m immersed in West’s heady scent. “What do I talk about?”

“You can admit I go too fast, but at the same time you don’t want to stop.” West slides his hand along the curve of my waist, then slips one fingertip past the fabric of my jeans near my hip. Electricity jolts my body and I move with the thrilling shock. While I love the sensation, it also terrifies me.

“Nope. Gotta say it, not think it.”

“I like kissing you.” More than like. I love it. I crave it. I dream of it at night and wake up frustrated when I find myself alone in a cold bed.

West sinks lower and skims his hand along my thigh. “Just the kissing? You’re not a fan of this?” And he mimics the delicious movement.

I melt into him. “I’m a fan.”

West leans down, his breath hot on my ear. “And this?”

Superb, divine goose bumps. “Superfan.”

“And the kisses along your neck?” he murmurs.

I wiggle against him, wishing he would. “Love those.”

His hands snake around me and his strong palms glide along my spine while he blows warm air along my neck. I turn my head, exposing more of the skin there, silently begging.

“What do you want? No more staying locked inside your head. You have to tell me.”

“Kiss me.”

West’s lips connect with my skin behind my ear and I go weak with the teasing pleasure.

“More?” he whispers.

I nod with the frequency of my rapid heartbeats, then remember he’ll wait until I say the words. “More.” He immediately rewards me by parting his lips and kissing the same spot again.

My breathing hitches when West flips us and lays me down on the bedspread. Air rushes out of the fluffy blanket and my hair spills all around. West hovers over me, our bodies not quite touching. His knee rests between my legs.

My hand shakes as I stroke the smooth skin of his face. West is beautiful with his blue eyes and golden-blond hair. My fingers explore down his shoulder, along his arm. He’s always been strong, but with the training his muscles have become powerful, refined. Greedy, I yearn to admire the results.

Bolder than I have ever been, I ignore the redness forming on my face and tug at the hem of his shirt—a nonverbal West happily agrees to. With his shirt up and over his head, I trail a path along the plane of his chest and stomach; tracing the well-defined lines.

West closes his eyes as if my touch affects and seduces him. My pulse thuds to the point my frame quakes. I know what I want and the courage to say it evades me until West brings my hand to his mouth. His lips press against my palm and I rush out the words, “I dream of you at night. Of this.”

“Me, too.” He releases my hand and I draw forward, holding my arms in the air. West grasps the hem of my shirt and he slowly edges the material up while leaving hot, lingering kisses along my stomach, between my breasts and onto my neck. West’s body is blazing and what I love is the thump of his heart against my skin.