Chapter 30 #3
“Ecstasy. At that point I was so messed up, he could have talked me into anything. And after that, I have absolutely no idea. I mean, the alcohol, the weed, the E—we’re talking a pretty heavy cocktail.
From then on, the night’s a blank.” He feels for my hands before interlacing his fingers with mine.
His eyes bore into mine, not honey in green now, but fire in fire.
“I had no idea what I was doing. None. When I think about that night, there’s just nothing.
You left me, and I knew why, because there was that video, but to be honest, there’s not a single memory in my head. ”
The floorboards beneath my knees begin to shake; it’s like the storm outside will tear the cabin away, and we’ll fall and die. Or maybe we’ll survive, but then a bear will come, and we’ll die anyway… Until I realize that all of this is just in my head.
I was wrong. I was wrong the whole time.
I should have listened to his reasons. If I’d been a good friend—a sensible one, a rational one—I wouldn’t have left him hanging like that.
And with him, I wouldn’t have abandoned the six years we shared, which now hover between us, expecting an answer to this damned whatever-it-is we have.
“It’s… If I wasn’t… If I had… We’re…”
“Shh.” Wyatt places a finger on my lips.
He’s so close, the tips of our noses are almost touching.
“Don’t say it. That wasn’t you. Not you, not me.
It was life wanting to test us. But now we’re sitting here, right?
We’re sitting here, you and me, and it’s all in your hands.
” His finger slides from my lips and is replaced by his mouth, which brushes them tenderly, only briefly, barely noticeable, but the first flame within me, the one that had just been waiting to light up, erupts.
“What do you want, Aria? Tell me, show me, and I swear I’ll be yours. ”
My hand moves. Slowly, I stretch my fingers out toward him.
Touch his cheek. He closes his eyes, his eyelids flicker, only briefly, but long enough for me to see what this touch triggers in him.
I move on, put my hand on the back of his neck, stroke his short hair, and enjoy the feeling of it tickling me.
“I want everything from you, Wyatt.”
This is the spark our bodies have been waiting for. The spark that was missing to turn the waiting embers into a sea of flames.
His lips meet mine. I feel desire and taste snow, cheap wine, lust, and Wyatt. This kiss is more than just a kiss. It’s a homecoming. A let’s-give-all-of-ourselves moment. A shining forget-me-not that blooms as soon as hope germinates.
That’s how things are between Wyatt and me. When we touch, the world shakes. When we touch, our hearts go up in flames. Wyatt and I, we burn. We’re a raging inferno that needs our love to live.
“Aria.” Just my name, just a whisper, but the way he says it, what he means, goes right through me.
I climb onto his lap, place my hands on his neck, and kiss him, slowly at first, gently, then more and more quickly, demandingly.
In between two caresses he gasps for breath, as if he had been waiting for this moment forever, as if he had been imagining it forever, and now here it was. But better. So much better.
Our bodies know each other. They know how all this works, how we can drive each other crazy, how we can cloud our minds and feel the touch of our lips everywhere, deeper still, much deeper.
I pull in his lower lip, nibble on it, and he lets out a husky moan.
His fingers disappear into my hair, pull out the braid, and lose themselves in the individual strands.
He wraps one arm around my waist while our tongues touch, our lips meet wildly.
He pulls me even closer. The edge of my parka rides up; I’m not wearing any panties, of course not, and suddenly I feel his erection beneath me, nothing between us but the fabric of his pants.
My moan gets lost in his mouth as I rub against him, our lips uncontrolled, teeth bumping.
I increase the pressure, want to feel him, want these pants to disappear—less fabric and more of him, more, more, more.
Then he lifts me up, just briefly, before my back sinks to the floor.
He turns my head to the side, toward the fire; the space behind my eyelids becomes light, my face warm.
Then his breath touches my ear—the tip of his tongue, his lips—and goose bumps appear up and down my entire body.
I dig my toes and fingers into the carpet, gasp, moan, and hold my breath as his hand disappears beneath my parka.
Electrifying flashes send pulses through my nerves at every point along the path his fingertips travel.
As he strokes my nipple with his thumb, lights explode behind my eyes. Suppressing a moan, I arch my back and stretch out toward him, craving his touch. But then he pulls away. I let out a whimper, which Wyatt acknowledges with a barely perceptible laugh.
“No worries, Moore.” His fingers clasp my woolen parka.
He undoes the zipper and pulls on my sleeves, and I stretch my arms, and then I’m lying underneath him, naked, exposed, just right.
I can see how much he wants me. The expression with which he examines me, from top to bottom and back up again, is full of lust, full of desire, hungry.
He emits a low growl, then he’s over me again, taking my nipple in his mouth while stroking my waist, my thigh, and moving on to the space between my legs.
The desire inside me is boundless. Panting, I squirm beneath him, expectant, trembling, and then it’s there, the tip of his thumb on my pulsating, wet clit, and I moan out, louder now, much louder, not a single clear thought left in my head, just Wyatt.
He gently moves his thumb in circles because he knows I need it that way, because he knows that the gentlest touches there ignite the biggest explosion in me.
“Wy… I… Please.”
An agonizing emptiness reaches me as he detaches himself.
I open my eyes and look into his. Liquid honey.
Golden-brown skin over firm, hard muscles.
His hands are next to my head as he looks at me, breathing heavily, his full lips parted.
The thick lash line touches his cheekbones as he lowers his eyelids.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined this, Aria.”
“So, you want me?”
“More than everything else.”
“Then show me.”
Just a brief movement of his hand, and suddenly I see everything. Everything. And it’s…like it was before. But different. New somehow, though it isn’t new. More, though it isn’t more.
And then I can’t take it any longer. My hands grab his hips and pull him onto me.
He fumbles around for his jacket and pulls it over.
Again, he moves away, and I squirm while he takes a condom out of his wallet and tears it open.
Just two seconds, then his knee pushes between my legs, a silent plea.
I put my feet up and open myself as I look deep into his eyes.
I need to see this. I need to see how he reacts to me. I need to feel how much he wants me.
His eyes widen as he looks me over. And then, as if unable to wait another second, he pushes himself between my legs, one hand in my hair, skin to skin, both of us trembling, shuddering, and suddenly his tip is touching my opening.
Almost reflexively I claw my fingers into his back while I arch my own and gasp.
His lips graze my jaw as he supports himself on the floor with his healthy arm, and there are so many sensations blazing inside me, so many emotions, my abdomen is contracting in supplication, the space between my legs pulsing hotly, our hearts literally beating against each other.
Full of burning desire, I squirm beneath him, stretch my hips forward, wanting him to continue, to go deeper, but he doesn’t move; he just smiles against my lips. No more movement, nothing.
“Tell me what you feel, Aria.”
“I… Wyatt.”
“My name is not a feeling.” The throaty sound of his voice vibrates upon my mouth. I can feel him slowly circling the tip of his penis forward, right where the nerves are the most sensitive. “Do you love me, Aria?”
Our eyes meet. The fire warms our skin, flares in our eyes. We both know how heavy the question is. We both know the moment depends on my answer, and not just that, but the two of us together.
“Yes.” A purr. “I love you, Wyatt.”
The trembling that moves through his body represents a liberation for which his heart has fought for so long.
His lips meet mine, and he slides into me, fills me up, and makes me whole.
His moan meets mine as he penetrates me, and we begin to move, his fingers in my hair, my hands seeking support on his back.
Then his hand wanders down, finds my nipple, tugs at it as he begins to thrust into me faster and faster, finds the hidden point that only he knows, kissing me wildly now.
Everything is chaos. Everything is love.
We lose control, and then there is this tremor that comes in waves, but not those of water—they’re fire.
They go higher and higher until the wave of fire breaks in a thunderous explosion, everything bright, everything glowing, everything shining.
He thrusts into me one last time; our moans fill the air and join the crackling of the fire.
“Aria,” he says, as if my name was the answer to everything, then empties himself into me with a passionate groan.
Our sweaty upper bodies meet, my belly touching his as we breathe frantically and fast, arms and legs exhausted and heavy.
I feel Wyatt’s damp lips at my collarbone say, “That thing between us, it was everything.”
“That thing between us,” I say, digging my fingers into his dark, silky hair, “that thing between us is everything.”