Chapter Ten
When I managed to stop crying for long enough, I relayed everything Dax told me. How the boys went to Meg’s university and were a fraction too late. How Axel’s ribs were re-broken and punctured his lung. Surgery has managed to repair the damage, but he’s yet to wake up. They’re all in limbo, not knowing what to do or where to go, waiting and suffering in silence.
My heart cracks all over again, and the tears come back tenfold. I should have been there. I should be with them now, and regardless of Wyatt being the reason I’m not, he’s the only thing keeping me upright.
Yet to say a word in response, Wyatt lifts me into his arms, my body limp against his chest. Walking us into the bathroom, he doesn’t put me down until we’re in the shower cubicle. Turning the knob, a dose of ice-cold water shoots from the shower head before it warms. We gasp and cling tighter together on instinct, shuddering laughs prying us apart when there’s no reason to keep holding each other.
He reaches for my knitted sweater first, giving me every chance to smack his hands away. I don’t, despite the vulnerability seeping from me. I’m waiting for the switch to flip, for Wyatt to revert back to the man I thought I knew and take what he wants. A shameful part of me knows I wouldn’t stop him either. I just want him in any sense of the selfish word. It’s all want, want, want.
His fingers linger, growing braver, knuckles brushing my collarbone as he pulls the sweater over my head. My breath hitches, and he’s given a brief reprieve from my careful gaze. Then they're back, ever curious, all seeing. I’m standing before Wyatt in a black lace bra, the first one I picked up at a small clothing store in town. I wasn’t hanging around to peruse the racks, wanting to be out of the public eye as quickly as possible after hearing Axel’s news.
First choice or not, Wyatt seems to approve. A tick is produced in his jaw, his clenched teeth a testament to how much he’s restraining. How much he wants this to last. His hands lower to my leggings, until mine flash out to stop them. I’m almost trembling with the need for him to continue, but I manage to lower his arms to his side.
Then I take the hem of his shirt and lift it upwards. I’m slow, cautious, and testing, and Wyatt lets me cross this bridge in my own time. It becomes a game of like for like. We’re equals in this give and take. One piece of clothing at a time measured and mirrored movements. There’s no stronger hand, but a common ground we walk together.
Standing before one another fully naked under the spray, I can’t say who kisses who first. It’s a mesh of lips colliding, our desperation to be in this moment visceral. It’s raw, unhurried, yet urgent. The kind of kiss that anchors you and sets you adrift all at once. Wyatt’s hands slide to my waist, long fingers pressing into my skin as if to remind himself I’m real. The water cascades over us, washing away the grime of the forest and the tension from days of uncertainty.
This is not like the last time we showered together, when we were both using each other for gain. Both trying to rid ourselves of the demons that fuel this attraction, hoping it would fizzle out afterwards. It didn’t fizzle at all and has only proven to stoke the flames higher.
Is this an escape from all the shit happening outside this B his intrusion is like a claim that leaves no room for doubt. His breath catches, a hopeless sound that mixes with mine as he pushes deeper, his body fitting against mine perfectly.
Wyatt props himself on his forearms, his green eyes locking onto mine, the intensity of his gaze making my chest tighten. He moves deliberately, as though mapping every reaction, every shudder that escapes me. The weight of him pins me to the mattress, grounding me in the moment, while the slow, hypnotic rhythm of his body against mine pulls me into a haze.
His lips find mine again, softer this time, almost reverent. His lips melt against me with every careful thrust of his hips. His fingers splay across my waist, gripping just enough to hold me in place as he shifts his weight slightly, angling deeper. The change makes me groan, my nails finding purchase on his shoulders. Wyatt moans in response, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine .
But it’s his face that has me enthralled. I can’t close my eyes, drinking in the sight of him. He’s beautiful normally, but when he’s this raw, he’s breath-taking. Pressing his bruised lips together, his eyes become more glazed, everything centered on where his body joins mine. Our movements fall into sync, a slow build of tension winding through every nerve. He refuses to pick up the pace, remaining steady whilst I’m trembling beneath him.
The room feels smaller, the dim light casting shadows over the planes of his body, accentuating every taut muscle, every bead of water still clinging to his tattooed skin. Wyatt presses his forehead to mine, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as his rhythm falters, a telltale sign that he’s holding himself back.
I lift my hips to meet his, wordlessly urging him to let go and to stop holding back. His restraint finally snaps, and his rhythm grows faster and more erratic, the intensity between us reaching its peak. Wyatt’s hand slips beneath my lower back, lifting me into him as he drives deeper, the coil of tension finally unraveling in a rush of heat and electricity that leaves me gasping his name. His own release follows, his body trembling above me as he buries his face in the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin.
"Come for me, Angel," he murmurs that nickname again, his voice strained, his grip tightening on my hips. His lips find the edge of my jaw, trailing kisses down my neck. I arch beneath him, the friction pushing me closer to the edge until I tumble over it. He’s right there with me, free-falling without a parachute. His groans cancel out mine, vibrating against my skin as his body tenses, adding to the climax rushing through my core. His heat pours into me, his movements slowing but not stopping as we ride out the last waves together.
His hand slides from my back to cradle my face, thumb brushing gently over my cheek as though he’s afraid I might disappear. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I vow without thinking about the ramifications of such a sentence. Only that it feels right.
Wyatt finally leans down, pressing a final lingering kiss to my lips. “We’ll see.” Then he shifts, pulling away just enough to roll us onto our sides, his arm draped possessively over my waist.
We stay like that, tangled together, the world outside this room forgotten. The rise and fall of his chest against my back is so similar to the sleeping bag we’ve been sharing for the past couple of nights. I shiver just thinking about the damp ground, the whistling wind, and the lack of hot food. Wyatt reaches over, pulling the quilted throw over the both of us and snuggles in further.
“Wyatt?” I ask into the silence, my heart finally returning to a normal beat. He hums in response, a graveled sound of exhaustion. “Was that the first time you've ever made love to someone?” I bite down on my lip, my eyelids falling closed as I wait for the answer that never comes.