Chapter 18
Teslyn stood at the kitchen sink and scrubbed the dinner dishes, the dim light of dusk glowing beyond the window and a candle burning by her side.
HERO Force had called back two hours after the first call to tell Wyatt one of his friends, Hawk, had returned from the mission in terrible shape, having been beaten and tortured for hours on end.
The other one, a man named Ralph, was dead.
Wyatt had shut her out.
He’d gone for a long walk, his desperate screams audible from the cabin porch where she and Ivy sat worriedly waiting for him, though he was clearly some distance away. Ivy heard them too, which is why Teslyn decided they needed to move back inside, after all.
The two of them spent the day playing board games and snacking, and Teslyn’s face hurt from the effort it took to feign a good mood for the girl. But she didn’t want Ivy to worry more than she already was, and it was good to see her kid sister blossom under the light of Teslyn’s attention.
Together, they’d made a light dinner, Teslyn’s concern for Wyatt turning to full-blown worry by the time she tucked Ivy into bed. What if he didn’t come back? What if he’d been so racked by guilt that he’d hurt himself?
What if he blames me for pulling him away from his mission?
Needing to distract herself, she turned on the television, only to find Dateline doing an hour-long special on Ivy, the missing girl from Mississippi, and her older sister Teslyn, who was wanted for kidnapping the girl and suspected of setting fire to the family trailer–with a body inside.
Had Teslyn McGregor killed her own mother?
Teslyn hung her head, thinking about all the people who would see that episode.
Her friends, her coworkers, her bosses at her new job.
Her life as she knew it was ruined. Even if Wyatt and HERO Force managed to find out who Ivy’s father was and show he was involved in Marilyn’s murder, Teslyn’s name would forever be associated with Ivy’s disappearance.
And if you’re caught, Wyatt will experience the same fate.
He was risking so much by helping her.
Even still, she couldn’t bring herself to be sorry. If Wyatt had gone to Colorado, there was a good chance he would have been the one who died. And while she had no doubt he’d find that preferable to this, she couldn’t bear the thought of a world without him in it.
The sound of the front door closing had her spinning around.
She grabbed a towel and dried her hands.
Wyatt appeared in the doorway. He looked like hell, as if the news had caused a physical change in him, his features heavy and stern.
She didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything.
She just crossed the room and put her arms around him.
He didn’t respond, but she didn’t let go. She just rested her head against his chest and held on, willing the caring she felt to seep into his bones, willing to wait as long as it took for the ice he’d surrounded himself with to defrost.
His arms came around her, his shoulders shaking, and she held him as he cried, the room growing darker as time passed unnoticed, the tremors finally leaving his body depleted and still.
There was a desperate need about him, a deep ache so tangible Teslyn imagined it felt like a black hole in space, reaching out to take all light and goodness into itself in an attempt to fill it back up.
She would do that for him if she could.
Her hands gently stroked his skin and she heard his sharp intake of breath, the current between them changing immediately. She trailed her fingernails lightly up his arm, his other hand grabbing her wrist. “Don’t do this unless you’re sure, Tess. Not tonight. Please.”
She hesitated. Would she be able to love him when he needed it most, let him lose himself in passion and comfort him with her body?
She wanted that, wanted to be there for him in any way she could, wanted to give him an outlet for his pain and fill him back up with the littlest bit of goodness. She nodded. “I’m sure.”
His head bent and he took her mouth in a fiery kiss, her opening beneath him and returning his fervor. His hand slipped under the back of her shirt, skating up her back and taking the fabric with it before he lifted the whole thing over her head, her arms coming up to help him.
It was a test and she knew it, his way of checking if she was for real, or if she’d freeze up again when the cards were on the table.
She took a half-step back, his face hardening with sharp disappointment.
Her eyes never left his as she took the hem of his shirt and lifted it up over his torso and over his head.
His mouth was back on hers in an instant, those strong arms hauling her against his body. He bent his legs, grabbing her behind each knee as he’d done last time, and lifting her spread legs around him.
They moaned in sync at the contact.
He led her up the stairs, and carried her to his bedroom.
She was dizzy with physical need, her body melting like wax in his arms. She bounced on the mattress and laid back on the bed, Wyatt lighting a candle before crawling up her body, stopping when his face grazed the lace of her bra.
He breathed on her nipple through the cup, then suckled her through the fabric.
She cried out, her hips bucking beneath him as she laced her hands through his hair.
He pulled the cup down, her wet nipple cooling in the air before he took her with his mouth again, suckling her deep.
Had she ever known it could feel so good to have a man at her breast, the motions of his lips and tongue pulling her toward climax?
Many a man had attempted the task, but the sensation had been nothing like this.
He pulled down the lace of her other cup and moved to that breast, his hand going back to the first and continuing that magical rhythm with the pulsing squeeze of his palm and fingers.
She was panting, her head thrown back against the pillows in anguished pleasure as his knee moved up between her legs, putting pressure on the swollen, sensitized bud.
This was going too fast and not as she’d planned, him bringing her to dizzying heights while he was merely an observer.
With more willpower than she knew she possessed, she urged him onto his back. “I want to ride you while I come.”
He cursed under his breath at that, reaching for the nightstand drawer and extracting a condom.
Her eyes homed in on the small foil packet, memories and shame gleaming in her mind as if from a distance. She squeezed her eyes closed.
This is Wyatt. There’s nothing shameful about making love to him.
“You okay?” he asked.
She would not give up, would not let her past steal this night from her.
“Just imagining what I’m going to do to you now,” she said quietly.
Her eyes opened, and she carefully unzipped his fly before working his jeans down over his hips and thighs.
He kicked them off the rest of the way. His cock tented his black briefs, and her mouth watered in anticipation.
She lowered her head and nuzzled him through the fabric.
It was Wyatt’s turn to pant.
She settled between his legs and ran her nails up the inside of his thigh, then cupped his balls and rolled them around with her fingers.
“Fuck,” he ground out, making her smile. She lifted the waistband of his briefs up and over his glorious erection, watching as a bead of moisture appeared at the tip, glistening in the dim light. She bent her head and licked it away, the salty taste of him sending tingles down her spine.
Had she ever wanted to do this for a man?
Her eyes held his as she opened her mouth and took the head of his cock inside, twirling her tongue around it with lavish strokes.
He bucked beneath her, and she took him deeper, sucking gently as she made her way down his shaft and hummed with pleasure, knowing what she was doing to him.
“Oh, shit, Teslyn…” His hand grazed her hair and she reached for it, placing it on the back of her head and encouraging him to guide her.
His fingers threaded through her locks and gripped the strands in his fist, need spiking through her as he increased the pressure on the back of her head and she took him as deeply as she was able.
A flash of memory seared Teslyn in a painful slice. She froze up, panicked, Wyatt’s erection still firmly filling her mouth. Her hands squeezed his hips tightly. If she pushed him away now, this would be over. His words from earlier rang out in her mind.
Don’t do this unless you’re sure, Tess. Not tonight. Please.
She remembered his suffering, his pain, what he’d lost in coming to her rescue. This was Wyatt, a man she cared for, who she wanted to be with, who wanted to be with her. She would not allow her past to take him from her again.
She withdrew, then trailed kisses down his length and back up again, taking him deep once more. He cursed under his breath. “No more. I can’t take it. Get up here.”
He rolled on the condom as she crawled up his body, one knee on either side of him until she straddled his erection.
His hands went to her breasts, squeezing them as she grabbed his cock and lined up his shaft with the entrance to her body.
She cried out as she lowered herself onto him, the sensation better than any she’d felt before it.
She lifted her hips and sank down on him again and again, watching as the muscles of his abdomen rippled with his movements. He was beautiful—inside and out—and for this moment, he was hers. The thought made her channel spasm, moisture flooding her in a rush, and Wyatt called out at the sensation.
Her eyes closed, the tension inside her building to a fine, sharp point.
Light seemed to focus behind her eyelids as her hips thrust in sync with his rhythm beneath her.
She held her breath, pleasure exploding through her body as her muscles clenched him tightly inside her, waves of sensation altering her consciousness.
She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, her entire experience dwindled to the singular pleasure of this man, this act, this union.
He sat up, hugging her to him before flipping her on her back and driving into her, filling her completely again and again. Another climax hovered on the edge of her awareness before the shattering sensations overtook her in a wave of pleasure.
He cried out in release, continuing to pump into her as he rose up on his arms and seated himself as deeply within her as possible before he came.
She was weak with the aftershocks of pleasure, the sensation of him trembling within her enough to make her moan anew. He rested on top of her, sweat beading on the sinew of his back as her hands skated down his hot flesh.
She had never been in love, but surely, this must be what it felt like. The need to put the other before self, the desperate desire to remove his pain. She longed to hold him inside her as long as she could, to prolong the moment and their shared experience.
But she felt him leave before he rolled over, extricating himself from her desperate embrace, and she forced herself to let him go freely. They lay side by side, each examining the ceiling as Wyatt withdrew back into himself.
She knew he needed to talk about it, needed to get his feelings out, but would he trust her enough to tell her?
As much as she felt bound to him from their lovemaking, she knew better than to think he felt equally attached.
She gathered her courage, prepared for him to reject her, but knowing she had to try. “Tell me about Ralph.”