Chapter 27
Willow
Warmth cocoons me. Wyatt's leather and earth scent mixes with that of our faded arousal from the hours of sin we engaged in.
Exhaustion pulled me under not long ago, but I flutter my eyelids, drifting awake, hazy and dazed.
It's the kind of half-sleep that's filled with dreams created from memories.
Shadows dance from the faint light spilling through the cracked door. The cream-colored walls adorned with pastel butterflies, make me smile sleepily.
My overly-sensitized body still hums faintly with pleasure. From behind me, Wyatt kisses my shoulder, then his lips travel down my spine.
I try to roll onto my back, but Wyatt takes his callused hand and pushes my thigh into the air. He moves his face past my butt, then glides his tongue across my pussy to my clit.
I gasp, already trembling.
His tongue slowly circles my most intimate place, tasting every part and dipping in and out of me.
I glance down, and the top of his head peeks from between my thighs. I try to reach for it, but the rumpled sheets, secured to the headboard, wrap around my wrists. There's enough slack to move my arms several inches from under the pillow, but not any farther.
The tip of his nose grazes my clit, and his hot breath teases me. His stubble scrapes the inside of my thigh.
I whimper, my heart skipping, then pounding furiously. I close my eyes, pushing my face into the fluffy pillow, moaning with a raspy, almost hoarse tone.
He licks slow, thick strokes with tongue.
A muffled "Oh!" escapes me. I arch my back, pushing my body into his face, and grip the sheets.
He groans against my damp skin, sending another shock wave through me.
My hips jerk off the bed. I gasp, a strangled sound that barely makes it past my lips, "Jesus, Wyatt."
He chuckles, his hand squeezing my thigh, strong fingers biting into my flesh with possession. He flicks his tongue, then plunges deeper with a ruthless rhythm that strips my brain of every coherent thought. A sob tears out of me as he sucks hard, his nose nudging my swollen clit with more force.
I grasp the sheets tighter, drowning in a mix of memories and my current reality, of what it's like to be restrained by Wyatt.
He grunts, the sound dark and feral, and slides his hand up my thigh, repositioning his palm on my calf, and pushing my legs wider.
"Oh God!" I shout.
His teeth graze me, sending zings through my entire body. Adrenaline flows everywhere he touches, waiting to spill over and consume me.
"You're so damn sweet, sugar," he growls against me. He flicks his tongue back and forth sideways instead of up and down, and all hell breaks loose in my body.
I shatter, convulsing against his mouth, my toes curling so tight they cramp. "Wyatt… Oh God."
Like always, he doesn't show me mercy. His mouth and hands own me, and the high makes me dizzy.
"Look at me, sugar," he orders, tone deeper than the night.
I blink hard to focus, lifting my face out of the pillow and meeting his stormy gaze. The black in his pupils swallows the faint brown surrounding them. For the grand finale, he drags the tip of his tongue along my slit, so achingly slow, more incoherent cries fly past my lips.
His deep chuckle vibrates against me.
"Are you ready for the main event?" he questions.
I try to catch my breath, my words lost to the thundering pulse between my ears.
He flips me onto my back, then crawls up my body, smirking with a devilishly cocky grin. He pushes my thigh up toward my chest, and thrusts inside me in one hard, brutal stroke.
"Yes," I cry out, barely audible, as pleasure tears through me.
He pulls back, then sinks deeper, until his hips press flush against me. His eyes stay locked on mine, dark and hungry, as if we haven't been tangled together several times since before we even got into the bedroom.
My breath comes out in ragged bursts. I twist my hands around the sheets, increasing the tension.
He notices, and his lips twitch. He thrusts hard, and I moan, trembling. He places his hand over my mouth, muffling my cries, and lowers his lips to my ear.
His tongue swipes my earlobe, then he hisses, "Goddamn, you're tight," his jaw flexing against mine.
"Mmm," I moan, wrapping my free leg around his waist and digging my heel against his ass, trying to take him deeper with a furious and desperate upward thrust.
"Naughty girl. I'm in charge," he reminds me. Then, in punishment, he slows his movements, rolling his hips so every inch drags along my raw nerves.
I bite down on his palm, and wickedness flashes across his face.
"So you want to play like that?" he taunts, then moves his hand to my wrists, stretching them into the air as high as they can go.
"Wyatt," I cry out against his hand.
His thrusts turn frantic, pounding into me so hard, I spiral and see stars. The bed creaks beneath us, the headboard knocking the wall in a rhythm that matches the explosiveness of my pounding heart.
His hand moves from my mouth to my throat. His fingers brush under my jaw, then land on my pulse.
More unrecognizable syllables tear from me, lost in my haze of need.
"You feel what you do to me?" he rumbles. He thrusts harder, deeper, hips grinding against mine until more stars burst behind my eyes.
"Kiss me," I beg.
His lips slide against mine, wet and hungry. We kiss like we're drowning, like we're each other's oxygen, our tongues tangling in the darkness.
I dig my nails into the part of his hand I can reach, my arms still straight in the air.
He grunts into my mouth, a tremble running through him. He repositions my thigh over his shoulder, changing the angle.
"Oh my…" Another round of adrenaline attacks me. I shudder violently beneath him.
He's relentless, coaxing me into an extended high.
My body obeys him, splintering apart, my back arching, moans ripping from my throat.
Every muscle spasms around him, failing to lock as he rips his cock out of me before pushing back inside.
His jaw twitches next to mine before he lets out a strangled roar, his movements becoming savage. Then he groans, "Fuck, sugar," as he spills inside me. Heat floods me, leaking on the bed as he continues to thrust through his orgasm.
When it's over, he collapses over me, his ragged breath in my ear, his weight pinning me to the mattress.
He carefully unties my wrists while kissing my neck. As soon as they're released, I wrap my arms around him.
Wyatt's sly grin widens as he catches his breath, his sweaty hair falling over his eyes. He skims it back, revealing a boyish sparkle in his eyes that makes him look eighteen again instead of the sin-soaked man who just ruined me.
"Damn, sugar," he drawls, low and ragged, gaze roaming every inch of me like he's etching me into his memory.
I nervously laugh. "What?"
"It's official. I'm adding a warning label on you: Too Hot to Handle Without Fire Insurance." He waggles his eyebrows.
I let out a loud laugh that bubbles through my exhaustion. "Fire insurance?"
He shifts so his weight presses me deeper into the mattress. "Yep. And maybe a waiver of liability. Pretty sure you broke my hip." He winks.
I snort, my chest shaking with laughter. "That's rich, Houston. You're the one who nearly split me in half."
He plants a quick, hot kiss on my lips, charming mischief twinkling in his eyes. Then he glances over his shoulder at the glowing red numbers of the digital clock.
The humor drains from his face. He groans, scrubbing his forehead. "I don't want to leave, but I've gotta get out to the barn."
I blink, every muscle twinging with a satisfied, spent ache. I whine, "Noooooo! Stay in bed with me." I wrap my arms tighter around him.
He chuckles and ducks out of my grip. He slides off me and then rises. "Sorry, sugar. Gotta earn my keep. Can't let your daddy think I'm freeloading."
I prop myself up on my elbows, hair spilling around my face like a curtain. "Don't be silly. Stay in bed. My brothers can handle everything."
He slips into his worn jeans, tugs a T-shirt over his head, then leans down, bracing a hand on either side of my head. His gaze, a mix of stubbornness and hunger, sears into mine. "That's exactly why I need to go. I'm not hiding from them. It's best if they get used to us sooner rather than later."
I want to argue, and pull him back into bed so we can hide under the covers until the rest of the world ceases to exist. But his tone is too adamant, and I know him too well. So I groan loudly, pouting, "Aw. You're no fun."
He chuckles as he leans over to kiss me. "I'll show you who's no fun later." He grazes the tip of his finger over my nipple.
I whine louder.
"Get some sleep, sugar," he orders, then slips out the door, his boots pounding on the wood down the hallway.
I drop back onto the bed, rolling to his empty side. I inhale his scent on the sheets. It doesn't take long before sleep drags me under again.
But I don't sleep long. It's only a few hours before I wake up smiling, throat dry, and muscles deliciously sore.
I get up, go to the window, and peek across the snowy yard, but I can't see the barn from where the Butterfly House sits.
I wonder how my brothers are treating him.
Doubt they've gotten over it.
I glance at the clock. Breakfast isn't for another two hours, so I throw on yesterday's jeans. I dig into Wyatt's unpacked duffel and pull out one of his long-sleeved thermals. Putting the shirt on, I slip into my boots and then run my fingers through my locks.
I glance in the mirror. My hair's still a mess, but there's no time for a fashion show on the ranch. I step out on the porch.
The bitter cold bites at my cheeks. The snow's crusty surface sparkles under the sharp sun. Frost glitters on the barn roof, giving the impression that diamonds hide beneath the thick blanket. Holiday lights still glow, as the darkness hasn't completely faded.