Chapter 9
WYATT
Isat in the dark kitchen, the glow of my laptop screen beginning to attract insects. I couldn’t sleep, so I started to do what I did best—I ran numbers. Normally, it would be someone else’s finances, but I’d taken leave from my job back when Axel said he had a lead on Isla’s location.
No, these numbers were ours. Sitting in front of me now were spreadsheets on how much our Pride had nestled away in stock options and untraceable bank accounts.
I didn’t want to toot my own horn, but it was a lot.
Millions. The guys didn’t know—not because I was keeping it a secret, but because they didn’t ask.
They just trusted me with their hard-earned money, and it was hard-earned.
There was never a day they didn’t come home exhausted and sweaty.
I repaid that trust by keeping us afloat.
And in this case, not only afloat, but swimming in cash. It was enough to start a new life. To take Isla and Bohdie and run somewhere where the North American Prides wouldn’t look for us.
I sighed and closed my laptop. That was a redundant thought. They wouldn’t run, and neither would I. We were prideful by nature. We fought to the death; we didn’t run.
I heard soft steps, but didn’t turn. I let her make the first move.
“Can’t sleep either?”
Turning, I saw her silhouetted in the window, the full moon behind her.
I sucked in a breath. I remembered the first day I met her, Kara dragging me across the cafeteria to meet the new girl.
Her hair had hung in this dark brown curtain that caught the sun, her eyes wary, but she hadn’t looked like prey.
She’d looked like a predator, and my lion had sat up and whipped his tail.
When Kara had introduced us, Isla had lifted her chin and said my name softly, like she was tasting it.
From that moment on, I’d wanted to chase away the wary look in her eye, desperate for her to look at me differently.
With desire, lust, maybe even love. But I’d just been a dumb kid, and I didn’t have Archer’s game or Axel’s gruff appeal.
I still didn’t.
I shook my head to bring myself back to the present, to the woman in front of me rather than the girl from my past. We’d all changed.
“I do my best work at night. It’s been a hectic few days.”
She walked over, looking down at me. “It’s been a hectic few years. You grew up good, Wyatt. I’m sorry I missed it.”
I hated the look of regret on her face. I wanted to kiss away those frown lines that shouldn’t be on the face of a twenty-three-year-old.
“So am I, Isla,” I replied quietly, staring out at the moon.
“Don’t call me that.”
I turned back to her and bit my lip at the look of desolation on her face. “What?”
“Don’t call me Isla. Not you.”
I couldn’t help myself. Reaching out, I pulled her between my thighs, wrapping my arms around her waist and just holding her close. I was tall enough now that my head rested on her chest.
“Lala was an innocent kid’s nickname for you. I’m not a gangly teen anymore.”
She lifted her hands, threading her fingers through my hair, and I had to resist the urge to purr.
“I noticed, Wyatt.” She sighed and rested her cheek on the top of my head.
“I’m all muddled up inside. I feel things for you guys, but I can’t work out if it’s just because I love the memory of you all, or if it’s the feelings you inspire in me now.
And it’s all of you. It’s like… I’m drawn to you.
I know she is, my lioness. Even now, she’s battering at my skin, urging me to kiss you.
“How do I know if it’s me or her that has feelings for you guys? Can I have feelings for more than one of you? You saw how close I came with Axel earlier. And Archer…” She sighed again, heavily. “I’m so fucking confused.”
I pulled her down until she was sitting in my lap, and we were eye to eye.
“You remember the first time I brought you home to see my apartment? Kara was meant to come too, but she had to pull out because her folks called?” She nodded, her eyes tracing my face, her lips slightly parted.
I wanted to kiss her, but resisted. I needed to finish this story.
“So, we were standing out the front of school, and I was waiting to walk you back to my place, and you hesitated. I could tell you’d been hurt before, so I waited.
Longest fifteen minutes of my life, by the way.
Then you looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘Wyatt, my gut says I can trust you and my gut’s gotten me out of some serious situations, so I’m gonna come home with you.
But if you make me regret it, I swear I will track you down and stab you in the eye with a spoon. ’ You remember that?”
She groaned and shook her head. “Such a charmer. And I wonder why I’m still single.”
I grabbed her hand, putting it on my cheek. “What does your gut tell you now? Not your lioness, but your gut.”
“It says I should kiss you,” she whispered, raising her other hand to my left cheek.
The oxygen froze in my chest as she leaned forward, her lips a breath from mine.
She brushed them so softly against mine that I groaned, diving into the kiss.
My tongue danced with hers, and I gripped her soft hips.
She swung her other leg over so that she was straddling my lap, her nightshirt pushing up her thighs until I could feel the heat of her pussy against my leg.
Fuck.
I ran my hands up her spine, desperate to feel her skin beneath my fingers, but also wanting to let her set the pace. She gripped the bottom of my shirt and tugged it upwards. Breaking my lips from hers, I pulled the offending shirt from my body.
In my mind, I willed her to tug off her own shirt. I was desperate to see her body. I’d dreamed of her riding me every night for five years. As if she could sense my desperation, she peeled the nightshirt over her head, throwing it down onto the ground beside us. She wasn’t wearing a bra.
Holy fuck. She was gorgeous, all that pale skin in the moonlight, although she still had too many pointed edges for my liking, subtle reminders that we’d almost lost her. I made a mental note to feed her more caramel malt milkshakes. They used to be her favorite.
Her nipples were hard, and my mouth watered.
I wanted them between my lips. I wanted to see her throw her head back and moan as I made her feel good.
Unable to resist, I leaned forward, sucking the tight bud into my mouth, and was rewarded with a long, low moan as she rubbed herself against my cock.
I was so hard, I was pretty sure I was going to come if she didn’t stop. I switched to her other nipple, and she moaned again, grinding harder. Fuck me. I was going to come in my pants like a damn teenager. I really needed to think of something else.
Baseball. Avocados. Corporate tax breaks. Hedge funds.
“Wyatt?”
“Mmm?” I answered around her nipple, unwilling to stop wrapping my tongue around it while she was emitting those sexy-as-hell noises.
“I want to make love to you. But I think you should know, I’m a virgin.”
I reared back, her nipple slipping from my mouth with an audible pop. “What?” I blinked at her like a dumbass.
“I’ve never had the opportunity to… you know. I had a baby to raise, and I was on the run. There was never really a right time.”
I was pretty sure my brain had stopped working, or my tongue, or something, because I couldn’t formulate anything more in-depth than, “Oh.”
“Don’t freak out,” she said, shifting on my lap. I groaned. It felt so damn good.
But what the hell should I do? Her first time should be special.
Or with someone who was an expert in pleasing a woman.
I’d heard the noises from Archer’s room in our apartment; he knew his way around a woman’s body.
Even Axel would probably be better at this.
I’d had a grand total of two lovers in my life, and was little better than a virgin myself. What the hell was I even thinking?
Yep, I was freaking out.
“Are you sure you want it to be me?” Ugh. I wanted to slap myself on the forehead. Could I have sounded any more weak?
She leaned close, until her nose was touching mine. “I want it to be you.”
That was it. I picked her up and laid her gently down on the table. If she was going to give me this honor, then I was going to be the best damn first-time lover that ever walked the planet.
I kissed her, trying to pour the emotions into the touch of our lips.
Then I pulled away, moving my lips down past her collarbone, giving her nipples a quick nip with my teeth just to hear her gasp, before following the soft swell of her stomach, resisting the urge to bury my face against her skin and just breathe in her scent. She smelled perfect.
I reached her panties, the only thing preventing me from seeing her completely naked and spread across the table like a feast. Sliding my hands under her ass, I lifted her hips until I could grab the waistband and peel the fabric down her thighs.
I sucked in a deep breath. Fuck. She was perfect.
My dick was so hard in my sweats, I was sure it was going to snap off.
Dropping her panties on the floor, I fell to my knees and dragged her toward me, until her ass balanced on the edge of the table, her pussy laid bare just for me.
I kissed the inside of her thighs, making her hiss, then moved upwards until I could taste her sweetness on my tongue.
Now it was my turn to moan. I ran my tongue along the seam of her pussy, swirling my tongue around her clit and smiling smugly as she bucked against my face.
Holding her thighs, I spread her wide and lapped harder with the flat of my tongue.
And again. And again. Then I sucked her clit between my teeth, making her scream before she could stuff a fist in her mouth.
Pressing my tongue into her tight pussy, I felt her muscles clench.
Her muffled screams were echoing around the kitchen.
Hell yeah. I hoped everyone in a twenty-mile radius could hear her pleasure.
“Wyatt,” she said in a low breathy voice that made my dick twitch hard. “I want you inside me, now.”
I’d never wanted anything so bad in my life. I quickly stripped out of my sweats and stood, my hand wrapped around my cock, which was begging to be buried inside her. She eyed it slightly warily, like it was a snake.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll take it real slow. You can say stop anytime.” I might die of blue balls, but I wanted her to feel safe. I needed her to want me as much as I wanted her.
I stilled, suddenly aware that the guys were here. I didn’t blame them; I would want to see the face she made as she came, too. Listen to the symphony of her pleasure.
Leaning in so my body covered hers, I whispered in her ear, “Axel and Archer are in the shadows. They want to see you come apart in my arms. But I can send them away. This is your moment. You’re in control.”
I pulled back so I could see her face. Heat flashed in her eyes, and I knew she liked the idea of being watched. A little voyeur in the making. But then I saw the indecision chase away the lust.
Seeming to come to a decision, she straightened her shoulders and pressed up against me so I could feel the wet slide of her pussy against my cock.
“They can stay,” she murmured, loud enough that I knew they’d hear.
I heard a sigh of relief, and the quiet grind of a zip sliding down.
Then I forgot they were there as Isla rolled against me again.
Taking a steadying breath, I lined up my cock at the center of her heat and slowly pushed my way in. Breathe, Wyatt, I chanted to myself, holding still as she tensed around me. Then I inched in further. Fuck, she felt good. So hot.
Wall Street. Professor Donaldson naked. My grandfather’s underwear. Football. Kanye West.
Hold it together, asshole. Slow.
Then she surprised the shit out of me by thrusting up, impaling herself completely on my cock. A groan of pleasure tore its way from my chest, and I held still.
“All good?” My voice sounded hoarse, like I was physically in pain. Which I basically was.
“Move, Wyatt. Fuck me,” she purred out, and damn, I was gone.
As I pounded into her, I was sure I was dreaming. I just prayed no one ever woke me up.