Chapter 42
Wyatt
Opening her car door, I hold my hand out for her to take.
It’s the kind of day I’ve dreamed about for months.
Where everything that felt wrong and terrible fell away, and the world righted itself.
The whales were magnificent, but they didn’t hold a flame to the woman taking my hand and sliding out of old Betty.
Slipping my hand over her hip and around her back, I haul her close to me, sliding my other hand into her hair to tilt her head up.
I steal a kiss, letting the heist linger as my mouth moves over hers, getting in one last kiss for the night.
Bryn melts against me, her hands finding my chest, moving up around my neck in an effort to get closer.
“Wy,” she murmurs into my mouth, and the familiarity and comfort of hearing her shorten my name sets my heart on fire.
I groan in response, but then relent, deliberately raising my head a fraction so she’s able to speak whatever is on her mind.
There’s a glaze to her eyes when she opens them, a dopey smile tugging at her lips. “What date is this?”
The question has me straightening, and the surprise she sees on my face has her giggling. The same question has run rampant in me multiple times today, but I refused to bring it up. I was going to treat it like our first date, though parts of me begged for it to be the third.
She places a finger over my lips before I can answer. “I want it to be date three. I don’t want to wait, unless you do.”
“Fuck that,” I grunt, both hands dropping to grab her under her ass and haul her up into my arms.
By the time her legs are locking around my waist, she’s laughing, her door is closed, and I’m halfway to the gate.
My attention drifts up when there’s movement out of the corner of my eye.
The curtains in the window are moving, a sure sign someone was there a moment ago, and I laugh to myself.
Of course Ruby was watching. But that’s the last thing she’ll see tonight.
Once we’re through the gate, Bryn starts peppering my face with kisses.
My cock went hard when she told me what she wanted, but now it’s straining against my pants, desperate to be out of the confines of my jeans, especially with her body rubbing against me with each step I take.
By the time we’re at her door, she’s moved down to my neck, nipping and teasing at it with her tongue, and my hands are shaking with the anticipation of being all over her.
“Zero-three-one-two is the code,” she mumbles against my flesh a second before her teeth are scraping up the column of my neck.
It sends a current of electricity bolting down the length of my spine, straight to my fucking balls, and I push her against the door, grinding against her, looking for some kind of relief. She gasps, the sound right next to my ear, and fuck me if it isn’t the best thing I’ve heard in my life.
Digging my fingers into her ass, I squeeze both cheeks, causing her to make the same noise. It has my cock deliriously harder, my heart hammering in my chest as I make the discovery.
“You like that, baby?” I ask, and when she nods, answering me with a breathy “yes,” I do it again. “Do you like your ass played with?”
Words seem to fail her, her head falling back against the door. When I lift mine to gaze at her, her eyes are hooded with desire, her chest heaving with panting breaths, and she nods.
“You’re going to have me embarrassing myself again, B,” I tell her, squeezing again.
I need her out of her clothes. Need to see her on full display, this ass on full display. We haven’t even made it inside her place yet, and if I don’t get her in there soon, I’m going to end up fucking her right against this damn door.
Stepping back so I can see the pad for the door, I type in the number she gave me, but the pad lights up red. Cursing, I try again, my hands still vibrating with a craving to be all over her, red flashing once more.
“Zero-three-one-two,” she says, shifting her hips against me, her center rubbing in just the right spot to make me groan. “Focus, Wy.”
Growling at her demand when she knows damn well what she’s doing has me squeezing one cheek tight enough to make her gasp. It doesn’t help, the way she bucks against me, driving my need to be inside of her to a new level.
Despite the scrambled mess my brain is in, I type the number into the pad once more, this time the thing lighting up green. The lock clicks, and then we’re inside.
Unlocking her legs from around my waist, she slides to the ground, my hands trailing up her back as my lips find hers to keep her close.
She’s no longer wearing her jacket from earlier, after being in the truck with the heat on for so long while we drove around and sang to country music after dinner, but she still has on too many layers.
Bryn must think so too because she’s breaking our kiss to pull her sweater over her head, taking my breath with it when I glimpse her in only her bra. I’ve jerked off countless times to what I imagined this moment to be like, but my imagination has nothing on the real thing.
Mint lace covering pale flesh. I groan when I see the rosy color of her taut nipples peeking through the fabric.
It takes every ounce of willpower not to reach out and rip the thing off her so I can get a full visual on the nipples beneath.
Instead, I slowly peruse the exposed flesh of her stomach, knowing how soft it is after being able to touch her freely there the other night.
She steps closer to me, taking my view away, to grab the hem of my t-shirt. “Off.”
With a slow grin, I help her pull it off, discarding it with her sweater now on the floor. My hands grip her waist, making a move to slide down to her leggings, but her hands press against the front of my ribs, and she takes half a step backward, eyes locked on my chest.
Oh, fuck. I totally forgot.
“What is that?” she breathes, barely above a whisper. “Wy, what is that?”
The tattoo. The one I got for her.
Swallowing the lump that’s grown in my throat, I place my hands over hers. “A tattoo.”
“Clearly, I can see that,” she says, her eyes lifting to mine. I can’t read them. The surprise is there, of course, but besides that, there’s nothing that says she loves it or hates it. “Why does it say that?”
“Because it’s my truth,” I tell her.
One of my hands falls to my side when she pulls hers out from under it, my heart jumping into my throat. Then she starts to trace the words I got for her.
You are my hope.
“When did you get this?” she asks, tracing over the word hope.
The four words are in two lines, off-centered from each other in elegant cursive that closely matches my “Family” tattoo. They rest right over the middle of my left pec.
Breathing my nervousness out through my nose, I lick my lips to get some kind of moisture going in my suddenly dry mouth. “The day we broke up.”
Her eyes snap to mine, wide as they were when the whales surfaced at the same time, but there’s a line between her eyebrows that has me worried.
“What?” she asks, in total disbelief.
Lifting a hand, I push it through my curls, my cock not nearly as hard as it was a minute ago.
“Brody and I ended up at 10-42, and I was trying to come up with a way to get you back. He kept shooting down all my ideas, and then I said I was going to get a tattoo. It was one idea he thought was smart.”
“You thought getting a tattoo would get me back? And he agreed with you?” Her head shakes, both her hands sliding down my torso. “You two are dumb.”
Oh god, I’m not sure I want her to know there’s a second tattoo. I’ve never cared what people thought of any of the tattoos on my body, but right now I care. If she hates this one, she’ll hate the other one, and I’m not sure what I’ll do if that’s the case.
“Do you hate it?” I ask, letting my other hand now fall to my side.
Bringing her eyes to mine, she steps forward, erasing the space she put between us to look more closely at the tattoo, and shakes her head. “The opposite.”
The crushing weight inside me lifts instantly, and a breath billows out, easing every tense muscle that had taken over my body. My cock responds to her nearness, and the way she runs her fingertips along my forearms, over my biceps, and the tops of my shoulders.
“How could I possibly hate that I’m part of you like this?
You have all the important pieces of your life branded on your body, and now I’m one of them,” she whispers, her eyes dropping back to the tattoo before she leans in and presses a kiss to it.
She’s nearly the perfect height to do it. “I love it.”
Swallowing when she kisses her way down to the middle of my torso, my stomach flexes at the sensation of her mouth against my flushed skin and my head drops forward to watch.
Bringing her hands to the center of my pants, she works my belt buckle, pulling the leather so she can get to the button on my jeans.
I’m helpless to stop her, my cock screaming behind the confines of my pants, but I vow to myself I’ll stop her the second he’s free.
Except when she pulls the zipper down, and he springs out, she grasps him through my cotton boxer briefs, and I’m rendered useless, reaching back to grab onto the doorknob behind me.
“Fuck,” I grunt, stumbling back when her other hand comes to my stomach and she pushes me into the door. “B, what are you doing?”
She answers with her tongue, drawing a line with it from the center of my chest to my navel, eliciting a drawn-out moan at the feel of her hot mouth on me.
Hooking her fingers into the elastic of my boxer briefs, she shoves them, along with my jeans, down over my hips, my cock standing at full attention when she drops to her knees in front of me.