Brian quietly listened. I was sure he was silent because he was anxious for more, this was such a good story, so I continued on, not wanting to make him wait.

“Then, and oh my God, this is the craziest thing ever, Brian, these two guys showed up to stop us and pulled us away from the car. The one guy who is a total loser because he always hits on Tori and calls her Legs, he hears why Tori is attacking this car and pulls out a knife and slashes the tires! It was so badass! Then he tells us to scram so we did. I nearly fell into a bush ’cause of my heels but I didn’t care. It was the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me!”

More silence. A lot of it, which was odd now that I was done recounting the events and I was sure he’d have questions or comments.

I worried we got disconnected.

“Hello? Brian?” I called into the phone.

“What kind of car was it?” he finally asked, his voice a lot quieter than it normally was when we talked.

“Uh …oh, a red Corvette. Apparently it costs a mint.”

“A red Corvette,” he repeated.

“Mm-hm. Yep.”

“You were trying to bust out the windows of a red Corvette and two guys stopped you, one slashed the tires, and you were all in eighties gear.”

“Yes,” I stressed, confused as to why he was recounting the events for me when I lived them. “God, it was such a rush!”

“Unfuckingbelievable,” he mumbled.

“Right? I’ve never done anything like that before in my life.” I laughed. “We totally could’ve gotten arrested. Jamie definitely could’ve gotten arrested. I hope he wasn’t caught.”

I sat my mug on the nightstand and fell back on a pillow, legs reaching. I rubbed my heels against the comforter.

“Was I wild, Brian?” I asked when his silence was killing me.

“What?”

“Was I wild? If you’d seen me tonight, would you have thought I was wild?”

“Why are you asking me that?”

I attempted to twirl a lock of my hair but the hairspray prevented it. I pulled at the bottom of my tutu instead, twisting my fingers in the tulle.

“There was this other guy there and I saw him watching us, and I wondered if he saw me and thought I was wild going after that car like I did.”

Brian was quiet for moment, then answered, “I’m sure he did.”

I smiled at that.

“I missed you tonight,” I told him, feeling a little bold from the alcohol and the rush of adrenaline still scratching in my blood. “Thought about you the whole time I was with my girls.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep. You think about me the whole time you were with your boys?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you did, but I don’t know if you thought about me the way I thought about you.”

“And how’s that?” he asked, and I couldn’t tell if he was smiling or serious. His voice wasn’t giving anything away. There were no familiar tones to it. Nothing I’d normally take comfort in knowing that voice and loving that I knew it.

It was different but I didn’t care. I wasn’t being cautious. I didn’t feel the need to be.

This was Brian. I knew him.

I knew him.

“I thought about what your bottom lip might taste like,” I confessed, pulse racing and stomach clenched.

He inhaled in my ear. It was sharp like the cracking of a whip.

“Yeah?” he asked, but I heard him beg.

Yeah. Keep going.

“And I thought about what your skin would feel like under my hands and against my thighs. Um, you know …if you were between them.”

He didn’t say anything. He was breathing, just breathing, slow and heavy in my ear. It was simple, an essential action he had to do to stay alive. It had absolutely nothing to do with me or this conversation.

Still, it was the hottest noise I’d ever heard in my life.

I became bolder. Something was happening to me. Attacking Wes’s car was a rush, but this felt like someone had cut me open and filled me with a thousand heartbeats. My bones vibrated excitement. I was breathless. It was like I was being chased.

And I wanted to be caught.

“I thought about your fingers,” I continued. “What they would feel like. If they would pull and grip and if you would want to keep them in my hair or move. If you liked to kiss or if you liked to bite. The sounds you make when you’re close. God …Trouble, I thought about everything. Honestly, I’ve thought about it a lot.”

I dipped my hand between my legs, under hot pink tulle and over black satin. I wasn’t being cautious about this either.

I was burning up.

“Brian,” I moaned, moving with eyes closed so I could imagine I wasn’t the one moving. “Did you think about me that way?” I asked anxiously. “Do you?”

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Wild, what are you doing?”

“What do you want me to be doing?”

I hadn’t done this in months. I couldn’t remember the last time I was touched or I touched myself. My fingers felt foreign, but surefire. Aware. This was just like I remembered.

But it was so much better with the sounds and the voice in my ear.

A self-induced orgasm was a chocolate brownie.

A self-induced orgasm persuaded by Brian was a chocolate brownie covered in ice cream and sprinkles and whipped cream, heated so it was all gooey and sloppy.

I made a noise in my throat and spread my legs wider. The tulle scratched the back of my hand.

“Come on, Brian,” I coaxed through a quiet laugh. “You don’t want me to stop, do you?”

“Fuck no.” I heard the soft rustling of clothes. “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“You.”

“Doing what?”

“Everything.”

“Touching you?”

I nodded and licked my lips. I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to.

He knew.

“Kissing you?”

“Yes,” I moaned.

“Where?”

“Right here.”

I dragged my finger over my clit and shuddered.

“Your pussy?” he asked. “Is that where I should kiss you, Wild? With your thighs against my ears so tight I can’t hear you scream?”

“God, yes.”

I wiggled against the onslaught of my fingers.

“Would you kiss me there?”

“I would,” he answered raggedly. “You’d have problems stopping me.”

“I …I wouldn’t stop you. I’d never stop you.”

“What about my dick?” he suggested, and just the mention of that word had me arching my back and panting. “Filling you. Fucking you. Have you thought about that?”

“Have you?” I asked, grinding my palm against my clit and pressing my fingers against the barrier of my tights, picturing just that.

His dick. Filling me. Fucking me.

“You wanna know what I’ve thought about?”

“Please,” I begged.

The pressure was building. The muscles in my legs and arms and belly tensing and twitching and tightening.

I wanted to explode.

Brian made a noise then, deep and tortured in my ear, and I knew, I knew he was getting off, too.