Silver Heart (12 page)

Preston took a moment to contemplate his response. “I suppose because it’s the next, logical step in our…” he trailed off.

“Our what?” I took another shot from his hand.

His shoulders tensed. “You know,” he said, shrugging uncomfortably.

No, I didn’t.
That was the problem.

I threw back the second shot. This time, my throat didn’t sting as much, though my stomach lurched angrily. “The next step in
what
, Preston?”

“Our…relationship.” The word sounded foreign on his lips.

If you have to mumble it, it doesn’t count,
I wanted to say. Instead I looked over at the remaining drinks, “This proposal…is it your idea?”

“Yeah. Kind of.” He gazed at the floor and swayed slightly, reminding me of a little boy getting caught in a lie. “Your mom was talking to my mom and they both think it would be good to get engaged before you’re off to school. They’re starting to ask questions about our lack of contact, so it just makes sense.”

Again, my stomach rolled. My head throbbed, seemingly pounding to the beat of the music. Being the future med school student that I was, I soothed both of my ailments with a third shot of tequila.

Preston was reluctant to let go of the glass, but then simply shrugged and let me have it. Maybe he thought that if I was drunk, I’d be more likely to accept his proposal. Most guys tried to get girls drunk to seal another kind of deal, but Preston Stonewall was all about business. And he and I both knew this sudden proposal was exactly that—just businesses.

“When I told your brother about it, he agreed that it was the practical thing to do.”

Practical. How romantic is that?

“What about you?” I asked. “What do
you
think Preston?”

“I think it’s a good idea. It’ll make our parents happy. My mom keeps asking why we don’t see each other more often. If we were engaged, it would quiet her down for a while.”

He thought it was a good idea to spring a proposal on me after five months of barely speaking. As I was buying tequila shots. And getting pushed around by underage drinkers. Even though he knew that I didn’t love him. Even though he also didn’t love me and never would. Just because it would quiet down our parents.

Romantic
didn’t even begin to describe it.

As the alcohol surged through my veins, I gained more confidence. “Do you love me?” I asked.

His eyes widened, but then he quickly collected himself. Clearing his throat, he said, “What we have is an arrangement that works, Dylan,” he replied. “I love that.”

The hurt reflected on my face had nothing to do with his words. It had everything to do with the fact that I was angry at myself. I was disappointed for having carried on this charade for so long, saddened for thinking that I didn’t deserve better. I mourned the years I’d spent as a coward, not allowing myself to indulge in so much more.

The “more” that I should’ve had all along.

Misinterpreting my look, Preston softened and added, “I really like you, Dylan. More than any other girl in the world.” He gently touched my shoulder. “We’re one of a kind—dedicated to our careers, devoted to our families. You know that we’ll never find a better suited deal.”

His words cut through me like knife. Agreeing to his proposal would basically mean signing the death warrant to my happiness. Bile rose up in my throat and my ears popped. There was a loud whoosh of air, and I suddenly felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room. My pulse raced; my breathing quickened. The walls began to close in on me.

I needed to get out.
Now
.

I pushed past Preston and headed straight for the door. I didn’t even bother to grab my jacket. The moment I stepped out into the cold night, the frigid air slapped me awake. I bent over, placing my hands on my knees, trying to stop the world from spinning out of control.

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

Maybe Preston was right. Perhaps we were one of a kind, but it suddenly hit me that I’d rather jump off a thousand bridges and risk a million tears for one tiny moment of happiness than spend any more time living a pretend life with him.

Preston would never take control and he’d never push me to lose it. He wouldn’t throw himself off a bridge with me in his arms, he couldn’t make my heart beat wildly, and didn’t make my body tremble with desperate longing. Hell, he didn’t even inspire me to pick up my camera and snap his photo.

My knees wobbled and the ground closed in, but strong hands grabbed my shoulders and prevented me from greeting the pavement with my face.

“
Whoa
! Are you okay?” I could recognize that voice anywhere.

I looked up toward the starry sky, meeting Sawyer’s green gaze. Even in the dimness, his light eyes shone with so much brightness, illuminating his beautiful features. And, oh, God…he was beautiful. And handsome. And so, so sexy. Alcohol had nothing on him; the mere sight of Sawyer made me drunk with desire.

“You coming, Carter?” One of his friends called from the entrance of the bar.

Sawyer shook his head. “Go ahead. I need a minute,” he said, pulling me up to my feet. “What’s wrong, Silver?”

“I need to get out of here.”

His dark eyebrows drew together in a look of concern. “Have you been drinking? Are you going to be sick?”

“Maybe. But not from alcohol. I just need to breathe.” I reached out toward him. “I want to live.”

He took off his jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders, then lead me to a dim alley on the side of the bar, gently resting my back against the cool brick wall.

“How can I help?” he asked as he stood in front of me. His tall body shielded me from the wind, and it wasn’t long before I began to regain some warmth.

I tilted up my chin toward him. “You want to help? Then kiss me.”

His lips parted, and for a moment I imagined he was going to press them against mine. He quickly tightened his jaw and shook his head. “I can’t do that. You’re clearly tipsy.”

I rose up onto my tiptoes and grazed his chin with my mouth. “Don’t make me ask again.”

He exhaled sharply. “Silver…”

“What?”

“You’ve been drinking.”

“So?” I challenged. “You’ve never kissed a tipsy girl?”

“Sure I have. But you’re not just
any
girl.”

“Right now, I need to feel like one,” I told him as I ran my hands up the hard ridges of his abdominal muscles and over his chest, finally wrapping them around his neck. “I need to feel wanted. For me. All of me.”

“
Shit.
” He groaned as my cold fingers entangled in his hair and tugged his face toward mine.

I’d never been so vocal about my desires. Pushed to the limits by Preston and partly spurred on by the tequila running through my veins, I felt courageous enough to demand what I wanted. For once in my life. But it seemed like Sawyer wasn’t going to give in that easily.

He took my hands in his and held me at arm’s length. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly. A war between wickedly delicious lust and chivalrous constraint waged in his eyes. I silently prayed for the lust to triumph. “I meant it, Silver. Are you really okay?”

I buried my forehead in his chest and inhaled his icy scent. “I’ve never been better,” I said, diminishing the space between us. My skin heated feverishly upon contact with his body. “But I want to lose control. Again. With you.”

“Goddammit, Silver, you can’t say things like that,” he groaned.

“You’ve been telling me to let go, so here I am—letting go,” I whispered, ignoring his protest. “I need you to catch me.”

“I’m here,” he soothed.

Had he always smelled so good?

“Please touch me, Sawyer.” I felt no shame in begging. “Kiss me.”

“
Silver
…” he growled in warning. “Stop talking. Please.”

“Then make me stop.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can.” My heart was in pain, and he was the only one who could mend it.

Resting his hands on the wall behind me, he buried his head in my hair and inhaled sharply. “The moment my lips connect with yours, I won’t be able to stop myself from wanting all of you.”

“So do it,” I urged impatiently. “Consume me. Devour me. Eat me.”

“Fucking hell.” He pulled away, leaving me cold. “I can’t. Not tonight. Not while you’ve been drinking. I’m not going to come near your lips. For your own good. And my sanity.”

I gazed up into his eyes and bit down on my lip. “Then don’t touch my lips.” I shifted my braid off my shoulder, revealing my bare neck. “You can still kiss me. Right here. Just a little taste, Sawyer. Please.”

“Shit,” he cursed. My eyes burned into his as I watched his restraint shatter. “You win. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

With a fiery growl, he pinned me to the wall and pulled the tender skin above my pulse into his mouth. He placed one arm on either side of my body, trapping me in his prison, submerging me in his kiss. My neck was, without a doubt, one of the most sensitive, sexually responsive places on my entire body. The things Sawyer did with his lips, his tongue, and his teeth sent me soaring into another dimension. A string of moans slipped from my mouth as I surrendered to the throbbing between my legs.

The brick wall felt rough and hard behind my back, and Sawyer’s body was even harder against my front. His lips traveled down the side of my neck to my collarbone, alternating between ravenous kissing and more demanding sucking.

“I can’t…kiss your…neck…either.” His words came out in lustful pants.

I wrapped my fingers through his hair and pulled him deeper into me in protest. “Then kiss elsewhere,” I begged. “Just. Don’t. Stop.”

The moment he pulled my earlobe between his teeth, my knees gave out and I stumbled. His hands swiftly grasped onto my hips, holding me in place, preventing me from crashing to the floor.

“I want you,” he murmured into my ear. “All of you. So fucking bad.” His breath was hot and moist, sending shivers down my spine. With each ragged inhalation, I was falling deeper and deeper into an ocean of ecstasy. My hips thrust against him in response, and he groaned again, dislodging himself from my ear. “I can’t kiss there. Nothing is safe.”

I whimpered, mourning the loss of his touch, and attempted to wrap my arm around his neck to pull him into a proper kiss. He seized my right hand, lightly kissed the soft pad on my index finger, then drew up the sleeve of my sweater and pressed a hungry kiss to the inside of my wrist.

The moment his mouth connected with the milky white patch of skin, my breath hitched. His tongue and teeth teased the skin along my wrist, first softly, then with an insatiable demand. By this point, my panties were soaked. And so very ready to come off.

How could something as simple as lips on a wrist feel so erotic?

I groaned as my free hand tightened its grasp on his hair, tugging roughly.

“
Shit, shit, shit..
.” His voice hummed through me. “I’m running out of places to kiss.” His eyes heated as he threaded his fingers through the belt loops of my jeans, pulling my hips to him. “And you’re making it very difficult to behave.” His lips crashed against my jaw, and with another hard tug on the denim hooks, he obliterated the space between us. “I’ll have to get rid of some of these clothes to find more bare skin.”

Oh, God. Yes, please!

The contact of his body and the roughness of his words pushed me over the edge. I spread my feet, taking his firm thigh between my legs, clenching myself tightly around him. As he continued to kiss my jaw, I began to rock against him. With a firm grasp, he guided my hips, first gently, then harder and faster until I was unable to contain my ecstatic cries and the desperate pleas for more.

Scorching hot waves of pleasure coursed through me, building up tension and intensity deep within my core. The friction of my body rubbing against his sent my nerves into a dizzying delirium; the hard denim of my jeans only served to intensify the thrill. Shutting my eyes, I arched my back and let my head fall back against the wall, completely losing myself in Sawyer’s touch.

I squirmed against him as he pinned me harder against the wall, his tongue flicking along my jaw and neck, teasing my bottom lip, but never fully penetrating my mouth. My senses ignited, sizzling to attention. The air around us was hot and sticky with raw need, contrasting with the rest of the icy atmosphere.

“I told you this was a bad idea.” The heat in his voice betrayed his words. As did his rock hard erection. His fingers hooked into the waistband of my jeans, causing me to shudder in anticipation. “So very bad, Silver.”

Wetness pooled between my thighs, and for a brief moment I wondered if he could feel my warmth through his jeans as I tightened my grasp on his leg. My need for release grew more urgent, threatening to detonate my entire body.

It was pain. It was pleasure. It was pure ecstasy.

“Dylan? Sawyer?!” Adam’s voice doused me in a cold shower of shame.

OH. FUCK.

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

A bucketful of fucks!

Anyone but him. Where the hell was Maddie when you needed her? I’d even take Preston right now. The scowl on my brother’s face affirmed that he wasn’t too happy to see me either.

“What are you doing?” he barked.

I stupidly said, “We weren’t kissing.”

“I’m sure you weren’t.” Disapproval didn’t even begin to describe his tone.

Sawyer took a tiny step away from me, though his hand remained on my hip. “Look, man—”

My brother cut him off. “Right now, inside this very bar, there’s a nice, smart,
safe
guy waiting for Dylan to accept his proposal,” he said to Sawyer. Turning to me, he added, “You’re going to get back in there and do what’s right.”

Sawyer stiffened. “Proposal?”

“As if you didn’t know she had a boyfriend,” my brother snapped as Sawyer’s hand dropped from my hip.

“He didn’t,” I said in an attempt to protect Sawyer. “I don’t,” I couldn’t help but add.

“My parents were right about you before, and they’re right about you now.” White puffs of hot air blazed from Adam’s mouth as he spoke, reminding me of some kind of angry dragon. “You’re not the guy for Dylan.”