27
T he porch light rattles as Wyatt presses me back against the railing. His hands tangle in my hair, grip my jaw. Tongue searching, his lips move urgently over mine, stealing my breath. My first taste of him is whiskey and sin. Pure adrenaline.
Our first kiss. My destruction. They’re one and the same.
Need need need
This man this man this man
On a growl, I pull back and slap him.
“Fuck,” he explodes on a breath.
Then I grab him by the back of the neck and yank him back to my lips. “Another,” I demand.
His kiss is kindling. I need something to do with my mouth anyway so I don’t bite his fucking head off.
Because he pushed me. Right over the edge, right into his arms.
My stomach knots with trepidation. With lust. I need him. So damn much. I shouldn’t kiss him. Kissing means feelings, means strings. But suddenly, I don’t care. Everything I’ve been keeping in, is out. Most of it. The guilt, the darkness in my chest, swallowed by Wyatt’s beautiful light. This kiss.
His hands slip and slide up my hips to caress my breasts.
Our damp bodies heave in the warm night air.
My breath hitches as he presses me against his sculpted chest and backs me up against the wall of the cottage.
Pins me there with his hips. I rock against his bare thigh, feeling how it heats me up.
“Wyatt,” I whisper, that single word, his name, causing a wildfire to burn in my stomach. “This is a mistake…”
“Not a mistake.” He nips my throat, a sharp, branding claim. “No mistake about this. No mistake about our marriage.”
Useless to argue with the man. Right now, at least.
He rests his scruffy cheek against mine before dragging it back to look at me. “I can’t fucking breathe, Fallon, I need you. So goddamn bad.” The expression on his face is dark, primal. The hard swell of his Adam’s apple tells me I have him. We can play this game a little bit longer.
But what game is it anymore? And does it even matter?
He’s back. On my lips. Kissing me until my knees buckle. I moan into his mouth. Horny doesn’t even describe what we are. Ravenous. Fucking insane. Desperate for each other.
His fingertips skim my thighs before traveling up my chest to tug at one of the strings of my bikini. My head falls back. Exposed air hits my breast, pebbles my nipple.
It doesn’t matter that we’re both soaked and shivering, Wyatt’s warm muscles, his hard body, chase away any chill.Heats every inch of me.
And then he takes me in his mouth, his teeth gently grazing my nipple, while his other hand travels down below to slowly slip into my bikini bottoms.
“Wyatt—” But words suddenly fail me. His fingers find my heat, slipping into me.
“Your fucking gorgeous pussy,” he murmurs. “So fucking soaked. So fucking tight around me.”
Aiden’s face briefly flashes in my mind, but as quick as it comes, it’s gone.
It’s not the same. Not with this man.
“More,” I demand.
His eyes flare with need.
Then he drops to his knees. Before I can say a word, he pins me back against a porch column and parts my legs. “Need to taste you.”
The scruff of his cheeks scratches the inside of my thighs. Then his mouth is on me. Long, slow, relishing strokes over my pussy. He’s been dying for this as much as I have. The thought makes me go weak.
I suck in a breath. Close my eyes. Everything inside me is warming, tightening. “Oh m-my God. Fuck.”
Wyatt takes two handfuls of my ass in his hands and thrusts me against his face. My thighs tremble, my sex pulses as he eats me out. I’m drenched, dripping. My legs jerk around him, my fingers curl into his hair.
“Wyatt, please,” I gasp, hating myself for not being able to hold anything back from him. Not tonight.
He pulls back to grin up at me. “You’re fuckin’ hungry, ain’t you, cowgirl?” He slides a finger through my damp folds then brings it to his lips and licks off my wetness. “Let me tell you what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna eat you out until your knees are shakin’ then take you inside and fuck you raw.”
My chest heaves, my naked breasts shaking. A mewl pops out of my mouth. I hate myself. “Yes.”
“Good.” He presses a forearm against my hips, pinning me back against the column. “Now shut up and let me eat.”
A strangled gasp falls from my mouth. My body is a buzzing bundle of nerves as Wyatt finds my clit and sucks. He licks and sucks me like a man possessed. His tongue laps at the inside of my thighs before going back to the center of my sex.
I buck into his mouth. He growls his approval as my wetness soaks the inside of my thighs, drips over his fingers. Every muscle in my core tightens with pleasure. Warmth rises. So damn lost in this man that nothing matters. Not even my leg, my injury.
The noise that comes out of me is wild, feral. My fingers twist in Wyatt’s hair as I come, my legs jerking uncontrollably around him.
Yes, yes, yes , I mouth as my body seizes and then goes limp, but Wyatt is suddenly there as my legs give out.
He makes a hoarse sound as he gathers me against his muscled chest. “Fuck, Trouble. I love hearing you come.”
Breathing hard, I look up at his beautiful face in the moonlight. So damn handsome. He towers over me, his face raw and full of emotion.
We don’t have to say it. We know how this will end.
The bedroom.
I try to take a step, but freeze.
“My hip.” I struggle to keep the pain out of my voice, but he hears it.
“I got you, baby,” he growls. Then so quick and careful, he scoops me into his arms and carries me inside and down the hall.
I should hate it, regressed to a damsel in his arms. But instead, my heart races. In his arms, I’m safe. I’ve always known that.
Inside the bedroom, Wyatt slowly slides me down his body. Still high on his kiss, I reach for him. Another. Now that I’ve had one kiss, it’s all I want to do.
His mouth lands on mine, and I whimper. He tastes like whiskey and man and summer sun.
“Fuck,” Wyatt says through clenched teeth. “I can’t keep my hands off you.” I cry out in delight as Wyatt grips my ass in his big hands. He kneads my flesh, and my heart rate cranks into overdrive.
“I know,” I say, reaching for the waistband of his board shorts. My eyes drink him in. He’s tan from our days spent in the sun. Masculine and chiseled, with wide, muscular shoulders. The thatch of dark hair leading down into his swim trunks has my sex clenching.
Wyatt Montgomery is mine. For tonight.
My hands go to his swim trunks, pushing them off him to reveal his thick cock. As he goes to kick away his shorts, he turns. Shamelessly, my eyes drift, taking a quick peek…
My breath comes to standstill inside my lungs. I blink. Like my eyes are playing tricks on me.
The worst—the best—thing I’ve ever seen.
On the curve of his ass is a tattoo. The word trouble in old west script wound around a horseshoe. My nickname.
“Wyatt,” I gasp, feeling lightheaded. “What the fuck?”
I don’t like my heart at the moment. This terrible pounding, this warmth that only exists in his presence. This, combined with his reveal about the letter, has me in all kinds of knots, and none of them good. He missed me; he would have come.
We stare at each other. My heart holds its frazzled beat. The tips of his ears deepen in color.
Then he steps forward, heat flaring in his expression.
“Got it when you left. Needed something of you, needed you with me.” Before I can say another word, I’m back in his arms. “Another secret,” Wyatt rasps, lowering his mouth to my neck.
The rough, tortured sound travels through me until I spark inside. “Deal with it.”
My response is to kiss him. Hard and angry.
Damn him. Damn this infuriating, cocky cowboy.
His brash command just makes things worse, makes the ache in my heart heavy. Suddenly, the stakes between us feel higher. But what stakes?
We’re already living together. Already sleeping together. We can go back to how it was. No feelings. Just sex. Sweaty, feral sex with Wyatt Montgomery.
I shake my head to chase away the rush of emotions.
“Inside,” I order when I pull away from his kiss. I arch my back, so damn horny for this man it’s embarrassing. “I need you inside me.”
He grins, hands on my hips. “Goddamn, you’re so fucking sexy when you boss me around.”
Then I freeze.
“How?” I ask, glancing at the bed over my shoulder. I’m not sure about the physics of it all, how my leg will cooperate, but hell if I’m not going to try. It’s been a month and a half. If I can get back in the saddle, I can get back in the bedroom.
Wyatt’s brow is furrowed in worry then, eyes locked on mine, he says, “I have an idea. It’s crude, it’s rough—”
I bare my teeth in a grin. “Let it rip.”
At first, I’m not sure what he’s doing, but then he’s spinning me around and pressing me up against the wall. Delight crashes over me. I’m the kind to take the reins in every situation. Except with Wyatt in the bedroom. One place I can let my guard down and let him take charge.
He catches the inside of my thighs and pushes them out wide, but gently. Pins me there. My breath kicks up as his big body covers mine. Massive. Towering. Protective.
“I’ve got you, cowgirl,” he grits out. “Won’t hurt you, Fallon,”
My palms fan out on the wall. “Never.” No doubt. Not with Wyatt.
Big hips crowding my thighs, Wyatt leans down over my shoulder, so close, our breaths become one. “You know it fits. Fits so good, baby.” Slowly, he fills me with his thick cock. Inch by inch.
I gasp. Trembling, I rest my cheek against the wall. “Wyatt…”
“You can take it, cowgirl.” His large palms settle next to mine. Another inch. The thick rawness of him makes me whimper. “Open those pretty thighs and show me how well.”
“Yes,” I gasp. My drenched pussy clenches around every great inch of him. Tight, holding him there. I feel so full of him, I ache.
Fully inside me, Wyatt thrusts his hips.
We both groan at the same time.