Chapter 42
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
WYATT
The hotel room I found is nice. Near the building where the fundraiser was being held.
I flew across the country to New York City with no real plan.
I just knew I needed to keep track of Rachel’s movements via social media and just .
. . go from there. Figured it all out on pure instinct, which is nuts.
This is truly the most unhinged thing I’ve ever done, but I was encouraged by Paige and my mother, so I did it.
And it worked. Now I’ve got my girl entering the hotel room and looking around as I walk in behind her, shutting the door and turning the lock. All I brought was a backpack with a single change of clothes and a few toiletries. That’s it. I was a man on a mission, and I accomplished it.
Still can’t believe she’s with me. My beautiful, sophisticated Rachel, who is a knockout in that burgundy dress. It shows off her long legs, accentuates the perfect curve of her breasts, and when she turns to smile at me, I feel the strength of that smile all the way down in my bones.
My dick too, can’t lie.
“Did you come here first? How did you know to get a room at this hotel?” She looks confused.
“I knew where you were with the fundraiser, and I took an Uber here. Saw this hotel and just walked in, asking for a room,” I explain.
She slowly shakes her head, that smile never straying from her pretty face. Most of the pink gloss she had on her lips when I first saw her is gone, and I swear it’s now on my lips. I wipe at the corner of my mouth, pulling my thumb away to see—yep, hot-pink glitter.
I’ve missed kissing the gloss off her lips.
I’ve missed touching her. I’ve been uneasy since that damn accident, and I figured that was why—the tree falling on me.
Throwing me off balance. I didn’t feel like myself.
But now I realize it was because of her.
The divide formed when I was in the hospital, when I was feeling sorry for myself, and it just continued from there.
I’m not whole unless I have Rachel with me.
Thankfully, she feels the same way.
“I have nothing to change into, you know.” She sets the tiny black bag she’s been carrying on the table, then pulls her phone out of the pocket of her dress, setting it beside the bag.
I shift out of the coat I’m wearing, dump it on a chair, then kick off my shoes, not wanting anything to get in the way of what I want.
Which is her. “I guess I’ll have to do the walk of shame tomorrow morning when we leave. ”
Shit. I didn’t even think of that. “How close is your place? We could go over there and pick up a few things for you—”
“Absolutely not,” she says, cutting me off. “We’ll go over there tomorrow. I’ll text my parents and let them know.”
“Text them now,” I encourage, and she frowns, that little crease that I remember fondly appearing between her eyebrows.
I go to her, rubbing it with my thumb until it eases.
“I’m going to keep you preoccupied here for the rest of the night, so you should take your chance now and let them know what’s going on. ”
Her face turns the faintest shade of pink, and she steps away from me, picking up her phone and tapping out a quick message before I hear the familiar swoosh sound of a text sending. “There. I told them I was with you, and we’d meet them tomorrow for breakfast.”
“You think they’ll hate me?” I have to know.
I’m probably nowhere close to the man they expect their daughter to be with.
I’m not rich, and I have a child, and I live in a tiny town and work a modest job.
I’m not impressive. I did a little googling with all the idle time I had on my hands.
Rachel’s father is a powerful figure in the New York financial district, and he’s worth a lot of money.
I don’t want his money. I just want his daughter. Forever.
“They won’t hate you. How could they? You’re a good man who loves their daughter.” She reaches for me, her hand cupping the side of my face, and I lean into her palm.
“I’m probably not what they expect you to end up with.”
“I don’t care. They can’t tell me who I should be with.
” She shifts closer, pressing all those delicious curves into my body, and I rest my hands on her waist, keeping my touch light.
It’s been too long since I’ve been with her, and I’ll lose all control if I don’t watch it.
“I love you, Wyatt. No one else. Just you.”
I crush her mouth with mine, kissing her with all the pent-up emotion I’ve been carrying for months. Her lips part, our tongues gliding against each other. Circling. Stroking. I slide my hands down, gripping her heart-shaped ass cheeks, crushing the fabric of what I assume is her expensive dress.
She doesn’t seem to mind, wrapping her arms around my neck, her hands in my hair, tugging on the ends.
Her body presses into mine, like she’s already trying to meld us into one.
We stagger around the room as I try to guide her toward the bed, and we fall onto the mattress together, our mouths never parting.
I roll her over so she’s on top of me, trying to save my leg, which is lightly throbbing.
I’ve done too much today, pushed too hard, but I don’t care.
I’d do it all over again to have her in my arms.
When Rachel lifts her head up, I follow after her, still trying to kiss her, but she starts talking. “Are you fully recovered?”
I frown, slipping my hands beneath the skirt of her dress to touch her bare thighs. “What?”
“Are you.” She bends down to drop a kiss on my lips. “Fully.” Another kiss on the corner of my mouth. “Fully recovered?” One more kiss, this one tongue-filled and delicious. “How is your leg?”
“Hurts.”
Rachel rears back, sitting on top of me and glancing backward, about to climb off me completely. I tighten my hold on her legs, keeping her in place. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“It’s worth it.” I skim my fingers along the outside of her thighs, noting her shiver. “Come here.”
She presses her lips together. “I have something to confess.”
Shit. I hope to hell it’s not bad news. I don’t think my heart could take it. “What?”
“I—” She ducks her head, speaking to my chest. “I’m still on my period.”
Well, damn. That’s actually a relief. “Can’t mess around then?”
“It’s almost over.” She lifts her head. “Mind if I go use the bathroom?”
My hands spring away from her. “Be my guest.”
She crawls off my body, calling, “I’ll be right back,” as she plucks her bag off the table and goes into the bathroom, shutting the door.
I lie there in the middle of the bed, staring up at the ceiling, willing my dick to deflate. But it’s like it has a mind of its own, not listening to me and as hard as ever. Maybe more like harder than ever because it’s been way too long since I’ve been inside this woman.
She’s in the bathroom for a few minutes, and then I hear the toilet flush. The water runs in the sink. She exits the bathroom, kicking off her shoes so fast, they both hit the wall as she heads toward the bed.
“It’s pretty much over.” Rachel pauses at the side of the bed, somehow looking both shy and sexy all at once. “Am I going to hurt you?”
“Rachel, seriously? No. Come here.” She crawls on top of me, her dress fanning out as she settles her panty-covered pussy right on top of my junk. Even through the denim, I can feel her. So fucking warm. “You don’t have to worry about hurting me.”
“You said you weren’t fully recovered. It seems like it’s taking a long time.” Her luminous gaze meets mine, and I see the worry swirling there. Accompanied by a healthy dose of lust.
“I’ve had some . . . complications during the healing process.
The break was pretty severe, and the wound where my bone busted through my skin became infected.
I’m fine now,” I rush to say when I see the way her lips part, like she’s going to protest. “I don’t want to talk about this. I just want to touch you.”
She runs her hands up and down my chest, her fingers drifting over the placket of buttons on my flannel shirt. “I want to touch you too. It’s been so long.”
“Too long.” Her nimble fingers undo each button hurriedly, her breathing accelerating. The moment she’s got the shirt undone she’s spreading it open, her fingers skimming across the white T-shirt I’m wearing beneath the flannel. “You’re thinner.”
“Getting hurt and being unable to work will do that to a person.”
Her gaze lifts to mine. “Well, to balance each other out, I just went on a junk food fest, so I think I’m fatter.”
“You don’t look fat to me.” My hands are beneath her skirt again, touching her everywhere I can reach, my fingers tripping over the waistband of her panties. “I want this dress off, but I don’t want to ruin it.”
“It unzips on the side.” She’s turning, glancing to her right and tugging on the discreet zipper that’s nestled there until it parts, revealing she’s actually wearing a bra. “Help me take it off?”
I rise up, readjusting her on my lap, and she lifts her arms at the same time I grab her skirt and tug it upward, over her head until the garment is completely off.
I toss it on the floor, leaning back against the pillows to admire what I’ve just revealed.
Her bra is a burgundy, similar in shade to the dress, and consists mostly of lace.
See-through, allowing me a teasing glimpse of her nipples.
Her panties match, though they’re silky and trimmed with less lace.
She’s like a dream come true. My every fantasy come to life.
Still can’t believe this woman loves me. And wants to go back home with me.
I’m the luckiest man in the world.