Page 27 of Westward

“Well, let me know when you need to get home. I can drive you.”

“Felicity drove me, and I don’t mind walking home.”

“You’re not walking home alone.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Atlas.”

“Like you would ever listen to me anyway.”

“What is going on with you?”

Her voice broke slightly, and I had to remind myself that she was grieving and any issues I had weren’t hers.

But didn’t she see it? That there was something going on? Or maybe I was just seeing what I needed to see and breaking down along the way.

“Let me drive you home. Please?”

“Atlas—”

“Oh, Atlas. If you don’t mind, I have a few people that I want you to meet,” one of the town council members said, interrupting Lizzie. “You don’t mind, do you, Lizzie? I mean, you have to share the town hero, don’t you?”

“I’m no hero,” I growled.

Lizzie’s gaze snapped to mine, and she smiled. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Damn straight you will,” I muttered before I let the older woman practically kidnap me to go talk to a few of the town council members I’d missed before.

I didn’t like being paraded like a show pony, and when I finally extricated myself from them all, I moved away and thankfully found myself next to Lizzie again. The party was still going strong, the parade over, thankfully with me not on a float, and now people were getting ready to dance and just enjoy the late sunset of the summer festival.

“Let me take you home,” I said as I moved closer to Lizzie, and she looked up at me, tilting her head.

“I’m tired, and I could use some time alone.”

I ignored the stares from others, grateful that our core group of friends wasn’t around. Because if they were, there would be even more questions.

Instead, I quietly led Lizzie to my truck and helped her in. When my hands grazed her hips, lifting her, she sucked in a breath.

“Atlas.”

Without thinking, my hand slid down her hip and over her thigh. It settled there, and it took all within me not to let my hand slide a little farther in, to where I knew her tattoo lay.

“Did you ever cover it up?” I asked, my voice deep, raspy.

Lizzie sat there at eye level with me, my hand on her thighs, and her breath coming in pants.

“You know I didn’t.” She reached out then and ran her fingers down my ribs. “You?”

I shook my head, imagining my own tattoo. I had marked my ribs with her name woven within the vines. Just like I was marked on her soft skin. My number—a single ‘29’ tattooed on her upper inner thigh.

She’d surprised me with it, and I’d only found out when I had been between her legs, ready to lick and suck and take my fill. I loved eating women out. No, that was wrong. I loved eating Lizzie out. The way she would pant and arch her back. She always tasted sweet, and I could gorge on her for hours.

And then I had found my number inked on her inner thigh and couldn’t help but nibble and suck. It was as if it were a beacon for my mouth—there was no stopping it.

“What are you doing, Atlas?” she asked before running her hands through my hair.

“I don’t know, Lizzie.”

“That’s not a good answer.”