Chapter 24 Blake
BLAKE
IT TAKES NEARLY FIFTEEN MINUTES to calm myself down. I spend that time pacing my bedroom, reminding myself that strangling him to death wouldn’t be in my best interests. I wouldn’t enjoy prison at all. And although tonight’s humiliation still boils in my blood, there’s also a surge of satisfaction.
Because I saw it.
The crack in his armor.
He was jealous tonight, and men only get jealous when they genuinely feel something for you. I sensed it when he kissed me, but tonight only cemented it. He can make as many excuses as he likes, but it’s clear to me now. Wyatt cares about me a lot more than he lets on.
This isn’t who you are. It’s who I am.
His words keep buzzing in my head. I don’t get it. Why is he so devoted to this man-whore story he’s written about himself? What does he think will happen if he admits he might actually care about someone?
As the last of my anger melts away, I pull a sweater over my head and leave the bedroom.
I find him on a lounge chair, fingers gripping a cigarette, eyes on the moon. It’s surprisingly quiet outside. Usually, you’d hear the buzz of mosquitoes, but right now everything is still and silent other than the occasional rustling of trees.
“Is it just me, or did all the mosquitoes disappear?” I mutter.
Wyatt exhales a wisp of smoke. “Maybe Darlie sucked them all into the lake with her.”
A smile tugs at my lips, which only pisses me off. He’s not allowed to make me smile, not after what he pulled up there.
Rather than sit down, I loom over him, arms crossed.
“So,” I say.
He takes one last drag, then leans over to extinguish the butt. When he meets my eyes, I expect to see the same anger from before. The same indignation.
But all I see is remorse.
“I fucked up,” he says.
I nod tightly. “Correct.”
“I turned into a possessive, crazy caveman.”
“Also correct.”
“I made judgments, and I infantilized you.”
“Very good.”
Wyatt chokes out a laugh. “Oh, fuck off with that strict schoolmarm tone.”
My stern face collapses. I can’t keep it up anymore. Sighing, I sit at the edge of his chair. When he moves over to make more room for me, I can’t help but remember how we stayed up talking until the sun came up. I wonder if he’s thinking about it too.
“We watched the sunrise together, Blake.”
Guess he is.
“I know,” I say.
“That’s not normal.”
“I mean, there’s nothing more normal than the sun coming up.”
He runs a hand through his hair. He’s jittery. “I need another cigarette.”
Before he can reach for the pack, I capture his hand and hold it in place, and I feel a rush of warmth when he stops fidgeting. He falls silent for several seconds. I see his Adam’s apple dip as he swallows.
“I wasn’t trying to protect you,” he says. “You were right—I was jealous. I wanted him to stop touching you.”
The warm sensation in my chest expands. “I know.”
“I hate that he had his hands on you. I hate that your hands were down his pants.”
“It didn’t get that far. Someone interrupted,” I remind him with a pointed look.
His lips curve slightly. “Yeah, and I don’t regret it.”
“Wait, so we’re not apologizing?” I say in amusement.
“We’re apologizing for interrupting you, acting like a jackass, and telling you that you don’t know what you want.” His smile becomes smug. “But we are not apologizing for being happy that his dick never made any contact with you.”
A laugh pops out. “Fine. That seems fair.”
He focuses on the moon again, and I follow his gaze. It’s so clear and bright, you could probably guide a boat across the water without requiring a headlight. Even still, the notion is daunting.
“I’d be too scared to take a boat out right now,” I confess.
He blinks at the change of subject. “What do you mean?”
“Darlie. She’d be sneaking out around this time to meet Raymond at the sex tree. But I think I’d be too scared. What if something happened? Like the boat hits a log and I fall overboard? What if I drown without anyone knowing I was ever on the lake?”
“That’s grim.”
“I know.” I pause. “It must have been really good sex.”
Wyatt snorts. “I mean, there’s literally an iconic landmark in Lake Tahoe to honor their fucking.”
That makes me laugh, but the sound dies in my throat when I notice his serious eyes. I suddenly feel self-conscious.
“Your ex is an idiot, Blake. And he’s a manipulative bastard.”
“What?” I say in surprise.
“He cheated because he wanted to cheat. Because he wanted to get laid. Because he wanted the excitement and the thrill, and now he’s twisting it around to make it look like you’re the reason he did it. But you’re not. It’s always been him. You don’t need some bar hookup to feel desirable.”
“Again, telling me what I need,” I murmur.
“I’m not doing it in a judgmental or possessive way. I promise. I’m just saying if Isaac doesn’t see it, then he’s a moron.”
My pulse quickens. “See what?”
“You,” Wyatt says simply, and that sends my heartbeat into overdrive.
I know I should still be mad at him for the overbearing way he behaved. But something about the raw note in his voice makes it impossible to stay angry.
His eyes burn with intensity as he fastens them on me. “You want to be seen. That’s what you said, isn’t it?”
I nod, because I can’t make my vocal cords work. There’s a lump growing in my throat, pressing against them.
“I see you,” he says quietly.
“You do?”
“Yeah.” His teeth dig into his lower lip. “This is messy, Blake.”
“Yes,” I agree.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’re not going to hurt me.”
“I think you might be wrong about that.” He lets out a ragged breath. “If we do this…”
That elicits a laugh, even as my pulse speeds up again. “If we do what? What exactly are we negotiating here?”
His lips twitch in a faint smile. “Us kissing again without me running off afterward.”
“Bold of you to assume I want to kiss you again.”
The humor fades from his eyes. “Shit. No. You’re right. I’m a presumptuous prick—”
I press my lips to his before he can finish.
He’s startled for a moment, freezing, and I’m worried he’ll push me away. But then he makes a strangled sound and pulls me closer, his fingers in my hair, guiding my head for another kiss.
Heat rushes through me as I lose myself in him.
He tastes faintly of smoke and mint and something darker, addictive.
My heartbeat is out of control, thudding in my throat and pulsing in my fingers as I cup his cheek, stroking it.
When his tongue slides against mine, I can’t stop a soft whimper from slipping out.
Groaning, Wyatt reaches between us and cups my breast over my skimpy tank top. My bra is paper-thin, and I know he feels it when my nipple hardens and scrapes against his palm, because he makes another husky noise and squeezes harder.
With our lips still fused, I climb onto his lap and straddle him, moaning when I feel him against my ass.
Hard and ready for me. One hand still caressing my breasts, he brings the other one to where my filmy skirt has ridden up to reveal my thighs.
He strokes bare skin, teasing, his thumb grazing my inner thigh.
I’m breathless by the time he breaks the kiss, and then I see the arousal burning in his eyes and forget how to breathe altogether.
“You got on your knees for him,” Wyatt grinds out. He doesn’t sound angry, only tormented. “This goddamn asshole should’ve been on his knees worshipping you.”
“I didn’t want that.”
His hand stills on my thigh, inches from my panties. “No?”
“You don’t get it. That’s not what I wanted tonight. I mean, obviously it’s nice to be worshipped. But sometimes a girl doesn’t want to just feel good. She wants to be desired. She wants a man to want her so bad that he’s begging for her.”
He swallows. “You want a man to beg for you, freckles?”
I swallow too. “Yeah.”
“You want me to beg for you?”
Slowly, I nod.
“Then take off my pants.”
I gulp harder, hesitating. Because I know if we do this, there’s no going back. And if we take things further than kissing and he pushes me away again after? I don’t know if I’d survive it.
But the same way he sees me, I see him now.
I see how hard he fights himself. How badly he wants to believe this image he’s projected onto himself.
That he’s a nomad musician who uses women for sex and then moves on to the next one.
I see a beautiful lost boy who needs to recognize he’s got so much more to offer than sex and songs.
And maybe it makes me a foolish, lovestruck idiot, but I think I might be the only one who can help him recognize that.
Despite the pang of fear, I can’t stop myself from bringing my hand to his groin and running my palm over his very noticeable hard-on.
He groans in response.
God. Yes. This is what I wanted tonight. For a man to become undone by my touch.
And as I watch Wyatt’s expression darken with unadulterated need, I’m glad that man won’t be a random firefighter from a bar.
I don’t think I’d care as much about the noises a stranger makes, not the way I care about Wyatt and how his breath hisses when I drag the heel of my palm along the thick ridge of his arousal.
I lower myself onto my knees in front of him, never breaking eye contact.
His chest rises and falls faster. I glimpse the hunger in his gaze as he watches me, waiting.
I run my hands up his thighs, feeling the muscles tense under my touch.
He’s so damn sexy, and I love knowing that I’m the one who gets to do this to him.
“So…” I look up at him through my lashes, my fingers tracing the outline of his penis. “I was told you have a really good dick.”
He barks out a laugh. “Oh yeah?”
“Uh-huh. I heard everyone loves it,” I say, half teasing, half mocking.
“Don’t care about anyone else,” he mumbles. “Just you.”
“Really. You want me to love it?”
“Yes.”
I tug on his waistband and ease his sweatpants down, stifling a moan when his erection springs up. Long and thick, making my mouth water.