Chapter Five
Sylvie
I’ve spent so many years thinking about my first time—daydreaming about it, building it up—and now that it’s happened, nothing comes close to the reality of it. Heck, I spent so much time thinking about it instead of going out and experiencing it like most people my age were.
I wasn’t exactly proud of being a virgin at twenty-four, and I didn’t want to broadcast it to the world. When Wyatt’s heated gaze locked with mine, I had the opportunity to stop him or, at the very least, warn him about it, but…I didn’t.
Maybe I should have said something. A bit callous of me to go into this blind when it felt like being split in half—but Christ, I didn’t want to risk being rejected or, worse, have him treat me like something fragile.
I’m twenty-four, for Christ’s sake. Whatever courage I had was spent on convincing this man to touch me in the first place.
“You’re a virgin,” he says. Those heated eyes are filled with shock and a hint of rage. I can’t tell if it’s for himself or me, though. “Why would you let me hurt you like that?”
“It doesn’t hurt.” Well, mostly. Not as much as it did when he finally thrust completely into me.
No, there was no prepping for that, and I’m glad it’s over with.
At least I hope it is. “It doesn’t hurt, I promise…
No, no!” I cry out, grabbing his arms when he starts to pull out of me. “Don’t. Please.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, a pained expression on his face. “Fucking hell, Sylvie. I’ve never been with a virgin before. Heaven knows I would have been more delicate if I’d known.”
“I’m fine,” I say, wrapping my legs around him and locking him in place. The motion sends a faint sting through the spot where we’re joined, but I don’t care. I’ve wanted this for so long—just never met anyone I wanted it desperately enough to go after.
And I want him.
“And I want this.”
Heck, I spent last night in bed alone thinking of this very scenario—with less talking, sure—and I don’t want to stop.
He looks at me like he’s trying to decide if he believes me. “Sylvie—”
“You don’t want me?” I whisper, meeting his gaze. I watch as they flash with heat.
“You know that’s not true. I want you so fucking badly it’s killing me not to move.”
“Then show me,” I say, brushing my fingers over his jaw, his beard, then to the back of his neck, drawing his face down toward mine. “I won the bet. This is my reward—what I asked for. You’re not going to back down now, are you?”
“Damn it, you just know the buttons to press,” he growls against my lips, but I feel the tension in his arms ease as he lowers his mouth back to mine. I suppose this is not the right time to tell him that I’ve never been kissed before, either.
His kiss is soft and less demanding than our first. His mouth moves over mine gently as those long, calloused fingers touch the back of my knee in a featherlike caress that sends pleasure shooting through my belly.
That hand moves up my hip, over my side, and cups my breast. I whimper against his mouth when he catches my nipple between his knuckles and tugs gently.
Pleasure floods through me as his mouth strokes mine, his hands touching me like I’m something precious. Those soft touches light as much as his impatient ones did before. I whine when he stays still, refusing to move and ease the ache building inside of me.
“Wyatt,” I whimper, rolling my hips restlessly against him, trying to urge him into moving.
He doesn’t, kissing me unhurriedly instead.
I can feel him pulsing inside of me. I claw at his shoulders, begging him to put out the fire he’s fanning inside of me, but he waits, his hand teasing my nipples as his mouth moves over my skin like hot iron, leaving every place it touches burning. “Wyatt—”
“What have you done to me,” he rasps, dropping his mouth to my throat and dragging his beard over my sensitive skin. “Can you feel how hard you make me? How close I am to losing control?”
“Yes,” I gasp, dragging my nails down his back and pulling him to me, but he’s like a boulder. Christ, what about what he does to me. I ache with the need to come. “Wyatt… please. Please. Please.”
He catches my wrists and pins them high above my head—and then he moves.
I nearly sob with relief. The ache inside of me finally gets what it’s been asking for.
I moan when he begins to stroke into me, slowly at first. He moves so slowly that I feel every inch of the inch of him slide through my wetness, stretch me, and send delicious little waves of pleasure through my body.
I keep my eyes on his face and watch the vein on his forehead, the tension in his neck, and the effort it takes him to hold back.
“Wyatt!”
His name, breathed out like that, seems to snap something in him. He pulls out and drives into me hard, making me cry out at the pleasure that rocks through me. It’s unlike anything I imagined for myself in the dark.
“Fuck!” he growls, those dark eyes locked on mine as he finds his rhythm. His grip tightens on my wrists, and the muscles in his neck strain with every thrust of his cock. My eyes fall closed as he fills me, my core clenching around him in response.
I whimper when I feel his face pressed up against my ear, his beard tickling me with every harsh breath he blows on to my skin.
“You’re so fucking tight. I wanted to do this when I first saw you at the store.
Push you against one of those shelves and take you apart until you were coming all over my cock. ”
“You did?” I whisper, my pussy quickening around him.
“I nearly did when you walked into my goddamned cottage. I jerked myself off when you left, picturing your tight little pussy as I unloaded into my palm.”
“Oh God,” I cry out, my thighs trembling as he kisses my throat. It’s last night all over again. Except this time, it’s not in my head. Wyatt is here with me, kissing my neck and pushing me into an orgasm I don’t have to find on my own. And it’s so much more than I ever let myself imagine.
Strange, unnamed emotions sweep through my chest that I’m not ready to think too deeply about.
And when his mouth finds mine again, I realize that thinking is not an option anyway.
He kisses me like he’s desperate for it, rocking hard and deep into me, stroking until I find myself falling off the edge without warning.
I cry out against his lips as pleasure crashes through me in waves. My thighs tremble around him, my core clenching then releasing around his cock. I cry out his name, straining against him as my world tilts. As it wavers right under me.
He doesn’t stop, driving into me faster and deeper.
He buries his face in my throat as he thrusts a few more times before holding still inside me.
His release brings me as much pleasure as mine did.
He bellows out my name as he comes, and I feel the hot pulse of his cum coating my inner walls.
He slides from my body, and I feel his release slide down the crack of my ass. .
We’re both panting when he rolls onto his back and pulls me into his chest, those large arms blanketing me and making me feel safe. Warm. I sigh, nuzzling his chest, and close my eyes as exhaustion finally catches up with me.
From a distance, I hear him call my name. It’s like an echo in my head that’s quickly fading. I hear the concern in his voice and whine when he pulls away, seeking the warmth he’s taking from me. Slowly, I feel everything go quiet and weightless.
It’s his face I see last before the dark takes me.
***
It’s bright outside when I open my eyes. I blink against the light, and it takes me a solid minute to make sense of where I am. The gentle sounds of waves seem to bring everything back. Suddenly, I’m assaulted by the memory of last night, and I feel the heat crawl up my face.
The card game. The bet. The kiss, and then—
I had sex.
With a man I’ve known for two days. Tall and handsome, and yes, still technically a stranger.
Every moment from last night plays in slow motion in my head, and I find myself blushing at the memory of how bold and wanton I was, how desperate I felt to experience the touch of someone like Wyatt.
I find myself equal parts mortified and quietly, deeply satisfied at how boldly I went after what I wanted.
My eyes snap to the side when the tent zipper is pulled down, and Wyatt ducks inside.
He’s already dressed in brown cargo pants and a jacket zipped to his throat.
When he faces me, I find myself fighting a blush.
I definitely have none of the boldness I did last night when I practically begged him to have sex with me and… shit, I’m blushing again.
“You’re awake,” he says, those hazel eyes locked on me. Unnerving in their intensity. “I thought of waking you up, but figured you needed the rest.”
“You should have,” I say, tugging down my sleeping bag and sitting up, looking at anything but the man standing by the entrance of the tent we shared last night. “So, um, are we going to see the sea lions soon?”
“That can wait a few minutes. I figured you’d want to clean up before breakfast. There’s a stream—not far, maybe a ten-minute walk—but the water runs incredibly cold.”
“I can handle cold,” I say, getting up and biting back a wince when I feel the soreness between my legs, as if I needed to be reminded of last night.
There’s none of the stickiness I felt between my thighs before I fell asleep, so he must’ve cleaned me up.
That quiet act of care makes something squeeze in my chest that I refuse to look at right now.
“So, have you brought anyone to this island before?” I keep my voice as casual as possible as I gather my things.
“Yes.”
Something cold and ugly sweeps through my chest, and I hate the jealousy that spikes in me. It’s none of my business who he brings here. We’re practically strangers. I don’t care what he does with his life. And yet, I can’t help the small “Oh” that slips out.
“Sabaak,” he clarifies. “I don’t make it a habit of dragging him away from Adak, but occasionally, I bring him camping at different locations.”
“Oh,” I say, pretending his words don’t soothe the jealous ache in my chest.
I follow him out of the tent and to a small stream with water that chills my bones. When I make it back to the tent, I’m shaking like a leaf. I don’t warm up until Wyatt hands me a thermos of hot chocolate without a word, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Then we’re off.
We don’t talk about last night or what it means as Wyatt shows me where to find the sea lions, and suddenly it doesn’t matter.
The salt air is sharp in my lungs, and the sun is warm on my skin as I stare at the massive, sleek creatures basking on the rocks.
And there are so many of them. Dozens splash playfully in the waves with their barks and calls echoing across the water.
I feel a wave of awe and excitement, and for an hour, I do nothing but watch them, taking in the moment.
When I turn to Wyatt to point out how incredible this is, I find him watching me. His eyes are so intense they start a fire I thought was well and put out last night when he made love to me.
“Is this what you were hoping for?” he asks, voice deep and husky.
“It’s more,” I answer, and I’m not sure what I’m admitting to.
Only that this place and this moment is more than I could have ever expected.
And last night… no, I can’t talk about last night when I’m not certain of his feelings.
Maybe for him, sex doesn’t have to mean anything.
I shouldn’t let it mean anything to me either.
And yet, I find it hard to look away. To think clearly when he’s standing so close to me.
“I’ll give you space to work,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets almost as if he doesn’t want them to touch me. “I won’t be far. Just call out if you need me.”
“Wyatt.”
He stops. Turns back slowly, like he already knows whatever I’m about to say is going to cost him something.
I close the distance between us before I can think better of it. It’s three steps—maybe four—and then I’m in front of him, and his eyes drop to mine, and whatever careful thing he was about to say dies on his face.
“Last night—” I start.
“Sylvie—”
“I’m not sorry,” I say quickly, before he can be noble about it. “I want you to know that. I’m not sorry and I don’t want you to be either.”
Something shifts in his expression. The carefully neutral look he’s been wearing all morning cracks, just slightly. “I hurt you.”
“You didn’t.” I hold his gaze. “Or—you did, at first. And then you didn’t, and I didn’t want you to stop. That part was real, Wyatt. All of it was real.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, those hazel eyes searching mine like he’s looking for the lie in it. He won’t find one.
“I couldn’t stop,” he says finally, his voice rough.
“I know,” I agree. “And I should have told you before. So we’re even.” I reach up and curl my fingers into the front of his jacket—lightly, giving him every chance to step back. He doesn’t. “I only have a limited time on this island. I don’t want to spend them pretending last night didn’t happen.”
Something loosens in him. I feel it before I see it—his shoulders dropping a fraction, the tension around his jaw easing. His hands come out of his pockets.
“Neither do I,” he says quietly.
I tilt my face up, and he meets me halfway, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that’s nothing like the desperate heat of last night.
This is slower. Deliberate. A question asked and answered at the same time.
His hand comes up to cup the back of my head, and I lean into him and feel the knot that’s been wound tight in my chest since I woke up this morning come undone.
When he pulls back, those hazel eyes are closer than I’m ready for. “Get your work done,” he murmurs against my lips. “I’ll be here when you’re finished.”
The promise in it does something warm and reckless to my chest.
“Don’t go far,” I tell him.
The corner of his mouth moves—the closest thing to a smile I’ve seen from him—and he steps back and tucks his hands into his pockets again, turning toward the cliff edge.
I watch him for a moment, then turn back to the sea lions with my bag in my hands and a completely foolish grin on my face that I make no effort to hide.
I reach into my bag and take out my camera, taking as many photos as I can before grabbing my notebooks to record my observations. I force my thoughts away from the man standing somewhere behind me and focus on work.
Those sea lions are depending on me not to fail!