Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SADIE
I wake slowly, still half-dreaming as the morning light brushes the edges of the room in a soft gold.
Wesley’s arm is draped over my waist, warm and solid as it folds me back into the unmistakable shape of him. His chest rises and falls against my spine in steady breaths. I want all of my mornings to begin this way—wrapped in his blankets that smell like cedar and fresh rain.
I had sex with Wesley.
The memory ripples through me, slicing through the remnants of my sleepy haze. My heart stumbles.
His arm tightens around me. His body is curled perfectly along mine, our legs intertwined with one another.
And then I feel it: the thick, unmistakably hard line of his cock pressing firmly into me.
Heat blooms across my cheeks. My inhale catches in my throat and I freeze, afraid to move.
“Mmm…morning,” he murmurs into my hair, voice gravelly and heavy with sleep. He shifts behind me slightly—enough to make the situation even more obvious.
I should pull away. I should slip out of his bed and sneak back into my room before someone notices I’m missing—again.
But instead, that reckless part of me ignores the lingering tenderness from last night and presses back into him just a little. Barely anything.
A low groan vibrates through his chest, rumbling directly into my spine, and his arm tightens around me.
“You’re making it really hard to be good right now,” he warns, voice deep and rough.
A shiver rolls down my spine. And then I slowly turn within the cage of his arms until I’m facing him. His hair is a tousled mess, eyes still heavy-lidded, lips curved in this lazy, sinful smile that makes me burn to be touched again.
“I thought cowboys were supposed to be gentlemen,” I whisper.
He drags his thumb along my cheekbone, soft and unbearably tender. “I was. Last night.” His mouth twitches. “Twice.”
And then he’s kissing me—deep and consuming. I melt into him, fully surrendering. Forgetting how to breathe. Forgetting the entire world.
I don’t worry about morning breath, how I’m in nothing but his hoodie, or how my heart feels dangerously exposed. Nothing exists beyond the warmth of his mouth and the weight of his body leaning into mine.
One kiss becomes two, then more, until I eventually lose count.
His hands slip beneath the hoodie, fingertips tracing my bare skin in lazy, teasing circles, raising goosebumps across my entire body.
I tilt my hips into him ever so slightly—testing, wanting, needing—and he responds immediately, shifting me onto my back and rubbing against me, his lips capturing mine again.
His mouth trails down my jaw, my throat, the soft place just beneath my ear. He pushes the hoodie up, exposing my stomach, my ribs, then all of me, but he doesn’t take it off all the way.
I arch into him, trembling, breath catching in small gasps as his mouth moves lower, worshiping me. Each kiss is slow, calculated to ignite, to tease, to mark me forever.
My fingers thread through his hair as he slowly kisses his way down my body, closer and closer to where I ache the most.
When he settles between my thighs, the anticipation of his mouth is torture—but he pauses, looking up at me.
“Flip over, Sadie, baby.”
A flicker of nerves flares low in my belly and I hesitate, uncertain. But he waits, patient, his palms warm on my hips.
I swallow, nodding slowly before I move for him, rolling onto my stomach.
My breath catches when his body follows mine, a long, heated line along my back. He dips over me, lips brushing the back of my shoulder. A soft, open-mouthed kiss. Then another. Then a slow trail down my spine, each one deeper than the last.
His hand slides up to my thigh, fingers hooking behind my knee as he draws my leg higher, opening me to him in a way that makes my whole body tremble.
He lightly strokes me with two fingers, barely there, up and down, up and down, teasing me until my hips tilt on their own, leaning into his touch.
“Is this okay?” he murmurs, voice rough and right against my skin.
“Yes,” I whisper, broken with need. “Please.”
His breath ghosts against my skin. “Fuck, I love it when you ask so nicely,” he murmurs, teeth grazing against the soft flesh of my inner thigh. “When you beg for it.”
And then his mouth is on me again.
Only this time, it’s from behind, deeper—the angle almost too perfect, obscene, overwhelming. His hands hold me open while his tongue drags through me, slow at first, then with an intensity that rips the air straight from my lungs.
My fingers curl into the sheets, moans muffled in the mattress as he devours me with an insatiable hunger. My body bows as he pulls me apart at my seams.
Every part of me answers to him and only him. He is my sun, and I’m helplessly pulled into his gravity, burning and bound all at once. Every slow stroke is pure ecstasy, and I come undone against his mouth. My hand flies back to grip his hair as a desperate cry escapes me.
Before I can catch my breath—before I can even fully return to my body—he’s positioning me again, lifting me to my knees and pulling me back into him, lining himself up behind me.
And then he sinks into me—slowly, stretching me open around him again. I gasp, the sound swallowed by his hand gently covering my mouth. His other arm winds around my waist to pull me flush against him.
Pleasure collides with pain, my body still shaking from his mouth on me. But the fullness of him, the way he holds me there, the way he breathes my name into my hair…it overwhelms everything else.
I clutch his forearm with both hands, fingers digging in, needing him close, needing more as he moves inside me. Every thrust is desperate, a conversation, a confession.
His tongue tastes the place where my neck meets my shoulder.
I’m hot and dizzy, but I never want this to end.
He moves with me, around me, inside me, and I feel every part of him, possessing me until there’s nothing left to give, nothing left to take—only the quiet collapse of surrender as we break together—quiet and breathless, the moment stretching into something that feels eternal.
Afterward, he eases me back into the mattress, gathering me into his arms again. I melt into him, cheek pressed to his chest, his heartbeat slow and steady beneath my ear. His hand drifts through my hair, down my spine, gentle now, grounding.
“You okay?” he whispers, voice soft.
I nod, still breathing unevenly. “More than okay.”
We lie there, suspended in the peaceful calm after the storm—bodies tangled, our breaths steadying, and the warm remnants of us lingering between my thighs, marking the sheets.
There’s a weight to this intimacy, a whisper of more to come, the lingering reminder that it will all eventually end—but for now, there’s only this.
I tug Wesley’s hoodie lower, but no matter how hard I pull, the hem barely skims the tops of my thighs.
My underwear is still lost somewhere in the truck, and my leggings are ruined with the evidence of my recent deflowering. The hoodie technically covers me, but it’s the principle. The risk.
Wesley props himself on one elbow, eyes dragging down the length of me.
“I’d offer you sweatpants,” he drawls, “but they’d never hide the fact that you spent all night—and this morning—coming apart on me.”
Heat rushes to my face. He must see the panic flicker beneath the surface because his smirk softens and he climbs out of bed, still wearing nothing but his briefs, and reaches for me.
“Hey.” His hand finds my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. “Everything is fine. Just act normal. Everyone’s probably downstairs eating by now. No one’s gonna notice.”
I try to nod but my heart is already thundering. “I just don’t want you to get in trouble,” I whisper.
Then, before I can overthink, he kisses me—soft, sweet, nothing like I’d expect after how depraved we were this morning.
He pulls away first, pressing a final kiss to my forehead. “Go, Princess. Make your great escape.”
Then he spanks me affectionately, grinning when I let out a tiny gasp.
The hallway is still dim, early morning light just beginning to creep through the windows. I move quietly, tiptoeing, hoping to make it to my room undetected.
I’m barefoot, hyperaware of my naked body beneath Wesley’s hoodie hanging loose over my thighs. Every creak in the floorboards is an equal decibel to a gunshot.
Two steps from the safety zone, Emmett turns the corner. We both freeze.
“Jesus,” he mutters. “You trying to give me a heart attack?”
“Sorry,” I say quickly, trying to play it cool, like I’m not the epitome of a walk of shame. “Didn’t hear you coming up.”
His eyes flick down—from my face to the hem of the hoodie to my very bare legs—and back up again. His expression shifts between amusement and suspicion.
“You good?” he asks, tone too casual.
“Yep,” I answer, too quickly. “Couldn’t sleep, so I went for a morning walk.”
His brow arches. “Barefoot? In that?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Yes.”
“A scenic little morning walk, barefoot and in a hoodie that’s not yours?” A low laugh slips out of him. “You’re a terrible liar.”
My heart stutters, a combination of fear and the final ebbing waves of my post-Wesley high.
“You’re observant for someone who just woke up.”
He jerks his chin at me. “Whose is it? Wes’s?”
Fuck.
“No.”
He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “Landon’s?”
My brain has been replaced with scrambled eggs, completely useless. Words are dry on my tongue. I open and close my mouth several times, briefly contemplating throwing myself down the stairs.
Say something, Sadie. Anything.
“Lydia would have some very strong opinions about me fucking her brother,” I blurt.
The second the words leave my lips, my insides shrivel.
Anything but that.
Emmett blinks, taken aback, then his mouth twitches as he leans back against the wall, crossing his arms. His gaze sweeps over me again, slow and amused. “Well, it’s not mine, since you’re apparently fucking whoever it belongs to—and I’d remember if it were me.”