28. Wyatt #2
Her eyes widened, pupils blown, lips parted on a breath she wasn't taking.
My voice dropped lower. Raw. Honest in a way I'd never been with anyone.
"Everything that happened to me… every damn thing…
" I brushed my thumb across her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin, the softness that had become more familiar than my own reflection.
"I'd suffer through it all again if it means getting you at the end of it. "
The words hung between us, heavy and irrevocable. No taking them back. No pretending I hadn't just laid myself bare in front of the one person who could destroy me more completely than her father ever had.
Silence filled the room.
Then she stepped into me.
And kissed me.
Not hesitant. Not uncertain. But with everything she had—all the fear and anger and confusion transforming into something fiercer. Something that tasted like forgiveness and fury and need all wrapped together.
Her hands fisted in my shirt, pulling me closer as her mouth opened under mine. I groaned into the kiss, arms wrapping around her waist, lifting her against me until her feet left the floor.
She wrapped her legs around my hips instinctively, and I turned, pressing her back against the wall.
The kiss deepened, desperate and consuming, like we were both trying to prove something.
That this was real. That despite everything—the lies, the revenge, the impossibility of us—we'd found something worth keeping.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, she kept her forehead pressed to mine.
"I love you too," she whispered against my mouth.
Those four words hit harder than anything I'd ever felt on the ice. Harder than the loss tonight. Harder than Barbara's threats or her father's betrayal or the weight of my own broken plan.
Because she knew now. Knew what I'd done. Knew why I'd done it. Knew exactly how this had started.
And she loved me anyway.
"You're insane," I muttered, but my hands were already sliding under her dress, desperate to feel more of her.
She laughed—breathless and beautiful. "Probably."
"Your father's going to lose his mind."
Her eyes darkened with something that looked like satisfaction. "Good."
That single word sent heat coursing through me. Because she wasn't backing down. Wasn't choosing him over this. Over us.
She was choosing me.
Despite everything.
I kissed her again, slower this time. Thorough. Claiming every inch of her mouth like I could make her forget everything except this moment.
When I pulled back, her eyes were hazy, lips swollen.
"Take me to bed, Wyatt."
Not a question.
A demand.
I carried her there without another word.
I laid her on the bed with a reverence that contradicted every dark thought I'd had tonight. Her dress wrinkled beneath her, hair fanning across the pillow—my pillow in some impersonal hotel room that suddenly felt like the most important place in the world.
She reached for me, and I caught her wrists gently, pinning them above her head.
"Let me," I said quietly.
Her breath hitched, but she nodded.
I released one wrist to slide my hand down her body, finding the zipper at her side. The same kind of zipper that had started everything between us in that garden. My fingers traced the path slowly, deliberately, watching her face as I pulled it down.
The fabric parted, revealing skin I'd memorized but would never stop wanting to discover again.
I peeled the dress away from her shoulders, her waist, her hips—unhurried despite the desperate need clawing at my chest. She lifted slightly to help me remove it completely, and I tossed it aside without care for where it landed.
She lay beneath me in nothing but black lace that made my hands shake.
"You're staring," she whispered.
"I'm memorizing."
Because after tonight—after she'd driven hours to confront me, after she'd chosen me over her father, after she'd said she loved me—I needed to remember every detail. The curve of her hip. The way her chest rose and fell with each rapid breath. The flush spreading across her skin.
I stripped quickly, never taking my eyes off her. When I settled between her thighs, she wrapped her legs around me instinctively, pulling me closer.
"Wyatt—"
I kissed her before she could finish the thought. Deep and consuming, swallowing whatever words she'd been about to say. My hands slid beneath her, unhooking the lace and removing the last barriers between us.
When I finally pressed inside her, we both groaned.
She was perfect. Warm and tight and exactly where I needed to be. I buried my face in her neck, breathing in the scent of her perfume mixed with something uniquely her.
"Mine," I growled against her throat.
Her fingers dug into my shoulders. "Yours."
The word snapped something inside me. I moved deeper, claiming her with every thrust. Not gentle. Not careful. But with all the possessive need that had been building since the moment she'd walked into this hotel room.
She arched beneath me, gasping my name, and I captured her mouth again. Kissing her like I could brand myself into her soul the way she'd branded herself into mine.
"Say it again," I demanded against her lips.
"I love you," she breathed.
I groaned, movements becoming more desperate. "Again."
"I love you, Wyatt."
The words destroyed me.
I felt her tighten around me, her breath catching in that way I'd learned meant she was close. My hand slid between us, finding the spot that made her gasp, and I worked her there while driving deeper.
"Wyatt—" Her voice broke on my name.
"Let go," I growled against her ear. "Come for me."
She shattered beneath me with a cry that I swallowed with my mouth, her body clenching around mine in waves that pulled me under with her. I followed seconds later, burying myself as deep as I could go, her name torn from my throat like a prayer.
We stayed locked together, both breathing hard, hearts pounding against each other.
I pressed my forehead to hers, still inside her, not ready to let go yet.
"Now what?" she whispered.
I lifted my head to look at her, confused. "What do you mean?"
Her fingers traced lazy patterns on my shoulders. "Are you my boyfriend?"
A laugh rumbled out of me before I could stop it. I shifted my weight onto my forearms, studying her flushed face. "Do I look like a boy?"
Her eyes sparkled with something dangerous. "You certainly don't fuck like one."
I went completely still.
Every muscle in my body locked.
"What did you just say?"
She bit her lip, but there was no hiding the satisfaction in her expression. "You heard me."
"I don't think I've ever heard you say a dirty word, sugar," I said slowly, my voice dropping lower. I kissed her neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot beneath her ear. "Didn't know you had it in you."
Her breath hitched. "Do you like it?"
"Like it?" I pulled back to look at her properly. "Sweetheart, hearing those words come out of your pretty mouth might be the hottest thing that's ever happened to me."
She laughed, the sound bright and unguarded. "That's a low bar."
"Says the woman who just drove three hours to find me." I kissed her softly. "In the middle of the night. Still wearing her fancy party dress."
Her expression softened. "I needed to see you."
"Yeah?" I brushed her hair back from her face. "Why?"
"Because everything made sense suddenly, and I couldn't—" She paused, swallowing. "I couldn't breathe until I knew."
"Knew what?"
"If you'd chosen me." Her voice was small. Vulnerable. "Or if I was still just part of the plan."
The question gutted me all over again.
I cupped her face, making sure she was looking at me when I answered. "There is no plan anymore. There's just you."
Her eyes filled, but she smiled. "Just me?"
"Just you," I confirmed. Then grinned slowly. "Although if you're asking if you're my girlfriend, the answer is hell no."
She blinked, clearly not expecting that.
I rolled us over so she was on top, hands settling on her hips. "Because 'girlfriend' sounds like something temporary. Something that ends when the month is up."
Understanding dawned in her eyes. "So what am I then?"
I pulled her down until her mouth was inches from mine. "Mine. Permanently."
"Permanently," she repeated, testing the word.
"That a problem?"
She kissed me instead of answering—slow and deep and thorough. When she pulled back, her hips shifted against me in a way that made my breath catch.
"No problem at all," she whispered.
I groaned when she moved again, already hardening inside her. "You're going to kill me."
She smiled, wicked and perfect. "What a way to go."
I flipped us again, settling between her thighs. "Round two, sugar."
"Is that a threat or a promise?"
"Both," I growled, and showed her exactly what I meant.