Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
WALLACE
The fire pops. Another gust rattles the cabin walls. Wendy inches back, eyes simmering.
I’ve wanted this since our first meeting. But the timing was always off. Then, when Liam and Cass got together, it complicated things.
Wendy’s heat, her taste, her soft curves are all I can think about as I wrap my arms more tightly around her, sinking into her mouth again.
This isn’t just lust. It’s release from every wall we’ve built against each other. Which makes it scary as hell, trusting the deepest, most sacred parts of myself to the girl who loves to hate me.
“So much for freezing by the fire,” she says against my mouth, hot breath sending shivers through me.
“You complaining?”
Icy flakes hammer against the window, the scent of smoke and chocolate thick between us.
My hand comes up, cupping her delicate cheek, marveling at our size difference. She makes me feel like a giant crashing into her world—everything about her delicate, beautiful, small but mighty.
I lean into her again, but her breath catches, and she pulls back, eyes wide. “This isn’t just a convenience thing for you, is it?”
“Convenience?” My jaw tightens.
“Like I’m here, available, and temporary, so why not?”
“What in the hell are you talking about, Sweet Potato?”
She shrugs, but her bottom lip trembles. “I see you down there on the Player’s Bench, surrounded by beautiful women. Tall, camera-ready women with long hair and lashes that could fan a fire. They look perfect—”
“They look like plastic,” I grumble.
Hope flares behind her eyes. “Maybe, but still. I’m short and round with a sassy haircut most men revile. I’ve had to rely on being the funny fat girl my whole life just to get some kind of attention. But how could that ever be enough for a guy like you?”
“You are small and curvy, smart-mouthed and acerbic … in all the right ways. It’s what I love about you, Wendy, even when you use all of that wit and sarcasm to hate on me.”
“I have never hated on you.”
“Okay, then, to hate on my public persona. But what if I told you I think you’re perfect? Every curve, every roll, every dimple. What if I told you my only fear right now is getting you off so monumentally you’ll choose me over any other man?”
She swallows hard, sage-green eyes dilating. My hand comes up, thumb gliding over the pulse point in her neck before my lips descend … an act of worship.
“You’re not another photo op, Wendy. And it scares the hell out of me. But you know what scares me more?” My eyes find hers.
“What?” she manages on a shaky breath.
“The regret I’ll have to live with if I let you go.”
I brush a stray hair from her face, falling in love with the flush of her cheeks, the prettiest color of pink. Only topped by the radiance of her thick lips.
“But I don’t want any of this if you don’t want it, too, Sweet Potato.” I grab her hand, place it flat over my chest where my heart pounds.
“I do want it,” she whispers, eyes betraying the heat behind her gaze. “But do you really have to be such a holiday grump?”
I laugh out loud. “God, you are a holiday fangirl.”
“I want someone to eat turkey with … laugh over mashed potatoes,” she says on a puff of air.
I arch an eyebrow. “I’ll eat turkey with you, mashed potatoes and stuffing, too. But what I’m really good at is pie. Sweet Potato’s my favorite.”
She giggles, a lightbulb going off in her head. “Is that what you’ve meant all this time? When you say it’s your favorite?”
“Yes,” I huff a laugh. “Not it’s my favorite. You’re my favorite. You have been since the night we met in The Steam Room.” I’m talking about a little over a month ago, when Liam and I went out for drinks and first met Wendy and Cass.
“Really?” Her bottom lip trembles. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner, then?”
“Because you spent the whole night talking about your ex, and then, somewhere in the middle of that, I started annoying the hell out of you. After that, I chalked it up as a lost cause.”
“Oh.” Her voice trembles.
“But now I’m having second thoughts about that decision.”
I grab her hips, slide her over my firm ridge. Her pupils blow wide, desire trembling in the delicate features of her symmetrical face.
Outside, the storm claws at the eaves, jealous of our heat. I can feel the little gusts of air through the cracks in the log cabin that still need fixing. Yet, the fire burning between Wendy and me is real, overwhelming. Something that could keep us both warm tonight.
“I really, really need to taste you,” I say in low, velvety tones. “And I need that whipped cream.”
She gasps as I jump to my feet. “Whipped cream?”
My laugh comes out like a growl. “Lots you still have to learn about me. But I like my dessert slow and fully satisfied.”
“Oh,” she squeaks.
I plop the whipped cream container next to the mugs, slide my finger through the cloudy white and bring it to her mouth, heart melting as she licks my finger.
Fuck, she’s good at that. I only let her have half, tease her by pulling away, licking my finger clean.
Then, I press her back into the couch, kissing her breathless.
“I want to make you feel so good, Wendy. Better than you’ve ever felt before.”
She whimpers as my hand slides between her legs, offering friction.
“I want to worship the hell out of you. Not just tonight or tomorrow. But for as long as you’ll let me.”
Her hands grip my shoulders, pulling me closer, our lips and tongues incinerating in the heat of our kiss. My hand slides up her lavender, cashmere sweater, thumb flicking over her nipple. She gasps, back arching off the couch. So sensitive, so needy.
“You’re the only feast I need this Thanksgiving,” I rumble, fingers kneading and pleasing her, savoring the weight and softness of her ample tits. They couldn’t be more perfect, but I need them to be all mine.
I break the kiss, pull back, and bury my head beneath her sweater. She gasps as I circle her areola through the lace of her bra, and I fall in love with her feel, her flavor. Vanilla, cinnamon, and sugar all wrapped up in the most decadent flesh.
When her back arches again, I slide a hand beneath, flicking the clasp apart. The fabric falls away, and I greedily devour her, sucking her nipple into my mouth and swirling it with my tongue. Every gasp, every buck of her body, amps up my need until I’m so hard it hurts.
But first, I have to make her come. Show her I can be the man she needs. My hands work her pants and panties free, wet, warm, satin teasing my fingertips. She needs me as bad as I need her.
Clothes pile on the ground beside the coffee table as I part her thick thighs, sliding my head between them.
“Wallace,” she pants when the cold of the whipped cream hits her warm pussy.
“How I like my pie. You have a problem with that?” I ask with a naughty grin. I don’t wait for her answer, diving in. I make a damn meal of her, falling in love with her musky scent, the tang of her flavor. Like she was made for me.
I suck and tease her clit, and her hips chase me.
They prove she needs me as much as I need her.
It puts a dangerous sting behind my eyes, knowing I’m more than just a hockey player or a decent fuck to her.
Knowing that this could be so much more for us.
Desire blossoms. I need to make her scratch my back and scream my name.
I dip a finger into her silky heat, nearly coming undone around the feel of her gripping me. Damn well sucking me in. Like I’m all she’ll ever need. Maybe I could be. Maybe I want that more than anything else.
I find the spot that drives her wild. Stroke it slowly, insistently, curling my finger until she’s begging me to take her there. The smell of her arousal wraps around my heart until my pulse, my circulation, my breathing—every part of me—strains toward her pleasure.
Her hands grip my back, fingernails digging into my flesh. “Oh, God, Wallace. Yes, please don’t stop,” she begs, breath racing to a crescendo I may need even more than her.
When she finally shatters around me with a warm gush, I lap her greedily, not wanting one drop to go to waste. My new favorite flavor. My deepest need. My finger continues to work her, to stretch her, to get her ready for me.
“I’m clean,” I murmur. “And I have condoms.”
“Yes, please,” she says. “I’m clean, too, and I want to put it on your cock.” Her assertive words shiver through me, sexy as hell.
I disappear to the bathroom, returning with a couple of small, colorful packets I slap on the coffee table.
Wendy lies back in the cushions, fully sated and naked from the waist down.
Between her bedroom eyes, her spread legs, her sexy curves, and that sated smile, my heart melts inside my chest. Fuck, I’m in love.
I shrug out of my yellow and black flannel, chuckle as she eyes me. “You look like you’re in your happy place.”
“I am,” she says, her voice warm velvet. “Now, it’s your turn.”