Chapter 3
EMMA
My legs wobble as we near the cabin. Every nerve ending in my body is still tingling from what happened in the clearing. I keep stealing glances at Wyatt, his profile sharp against the afternoon light, his hand engulfing mine.
I've never done anything like that before. Never let someone... My cheeks burn at the memory of his mouth on me, his neck between my thighs. The way he held me up like I weighed nothing.
"You okay?" Wyatt's voice rumbles beside me, low and concerned.
I can only smile, not trusting my voice. We reach the cabin door, and he lets go of my hand to fish out his keys. The moment stretches between us, electric and taut. A surge of heat, violent and sudden, courses through me, and I really have no idea what possessed me to do what I did next.
"Emma—" he starts, but I don't let him finish.
I grab his shirt and pull him down to me, surprising both of us with my boldness. His keys clatter to the ground as he presses me against the door, his mouth hot and demanding on mine. I wrap my arms around his neck, needing to be closer.
He fumbles with the door handle behind me, and suddenly we're stumbling inside, a tangle of limbs and desperate breaths. The door slams shut behind us.
"I've been thinking about this since the clearing," I whisper against his mouth.
A growl rises from his chest as he lifts me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist. "Been thinking about it longer than that, baby."
The endearment sends a shiver through me. He carries me across the room, pressing me against the wall beside his photographs. My back arches as his lips trail down my neck, his beard tickling my sensitive skin.
"Can I?" His hands hover at the hem of the flannel shirt that I'm wearing. His flannel shirt.
I lift my arms. "Please."
He tugs it over my head, leaving me bare except for the boxers. His eyes darken as they roam over me, making me feel beautiful rather than exposed.
"Look at you. So fucking perfect."
His hands cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples. I gasp, my head falling back against the wall. When his mouth replaces his hands, I thread my fingers through his hair, holding him to me.
"Wyatt, please, I need—"
"Tell me," he says against my skin. "Tell me what you need."
"You. Inside me. Now."
He groans, fumbling with his belt. I help him push his jeans down, my eyes widening at the sight of him. Big does not do it justice. It won't fit. He notices my expression and pauses.
"We don't have to—"
"No, I want to," I say. "I want you."
His eyes search mine for any hesitation, then presses me back against the wall. With one arm supporting me completely, he uses his free hand to push the boxers aside.
"You're so wet," he says, his voice strained as he runs his fingers through my folds. "Is this all for me?"
I nod frantically, beyond words.
"I need to hear you say it, baby."
"Yes, Wyatt. All for you."
Wyatt positions himself at my entrance, eyes locked on mine. "Tell me if anything hurts or feels wrong."
I nod again, my heart pounding with anticipation.
He pushes into me slowly, inch by inch, giving me time to adjust. It's been so long, and he's so big that there's a slight burn, but it's overshadowed by the pleasure building inside me.
"You okay?" he asks, his voice tight with restraint.
"More than okay. Don't stop."
When he's fully seated inside me, we both groan. He stays still for a moment, forehead pressed to mine, our breaths mingling. I feel so full and stretched but all in a good way.
"You feel incredible, baby. So tight, so perfect around me."
His words send heat spiraling through me. "Move, please. I'm about to go crazy."
He withdraws slowly, then thrusts back in, setting a steady rhythm that has me gasping with each stroke. My nails dig into his shoulders as he hits a spot that makes stars explode behind my eyelids.
Oh God.
"There," I cry out. "Right there."
"I've got you." He adjusts his angle to hit that spot repeatedly. "That's it, baby. You're taking me so well."
His praise washes over me, heightening every sensation. I'm getting close again, my inner muscles tightening around him. A coil of tension rolls through me, and I circle my hips and grind, meeting his upward strokes.
"You gonna come for me again?" he asks, his thrusts becoming more urgent. "Let me feel you."
His hand slips between us, thumb teasing my clit with just the right pressure. The dual stimulation pushes me over the edge, and I come with a cry, clenching around him.
"Fuck, Emma," he groans, his rhythm faltering. "So good, so perfect."
A few more thrusts and he follows me over, his face buried in my neck as he pulses inside me. We stay like that, panting against each other, his arms still holding me up even as his legs shake slightly.
When our breathing slows, he carefully lowers me to my feet, keeping a steadying arm around my waist. His expression is so tender it makes my chest ache.
"You good?" he asks, pushing a strand of hair from my face.
I laugh breathlessly. "I'm amazing. You?"
He lifts the corner of his mouth. "My knees are about to give out because I've never come that hard before."
"Me too. I feel like I can't walk anymore."
Wyatt chuckles and plants a soft kiss on my forehead, making my stomach flutter.
After cleaning up, I pull his shirt back on, loving how it smells like him. He tugs me into a kiss that's gentler than before but no less affecting.
"Hungry?" he asks against my lips.
As if on cue, my stomach growls loudly. I pull back, mortified, but Wyatt just laughs—a deep, rich sound that I immediately want to hear again.
"I'll take that as a yes. Come on."
I hover uselessly in the kitchen as Wyatt prepares our meal, chopping potatoes and seasoning meat. He's cooking steak, and the scents filling the cabin make my mouth water.
"Can I help?" I ask, picking up a spoon and immediately dropping it. "Sorry!"
Wyatt glances over his shoulder, amusement in his eyes. "Not much of a cook?"
"Does microwaving ramen count?"
He winces. "Definitely not."
"Hey! I make excellent microwave ramen." I move closer to peer into the pan. "What's in this?"
"Steak with salt and pepper, some butter, then garlic and rosemary from the garden."
I nudge him with my shoulder. "Show-off."
He chuckles, flipping the steak. "You can set the table if you want."
I bustle around, placing mismatched bowls and spoons on the small wooden table. As I pass behind him, I can't resist wrapping my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek against his back.
"This is nice," I say, inhaling his scent.
He covers my hands with one of his, squeezing gently. "Yeah. It is."
A crash from the living room makes me jump, but Wyatt only sighs.
He shakes his head and continues cooking the steak. "Cain and Abel at it again."
I peek around the corner to see the two cats—one orange, one gray—locked in what appears to be a wrestling match on the floor, knocking into a side table.
"Hey!" I call sharply, hands on my hips. "That's enough! We don't fight in this household."
To my surprise, both cats freeze mid-fight, turning to look at me with wide eyes. The orange one—Cain—has his paw raised to swat his brother, but slowly lowers it under my glare.
"Well, I'll be damned," Wyatt says from behind me, sounding impressed. "They never listen to me like that."
The cats slink away in opposite directions, shooting betrayed looks over their shoulders.
I turn back to Wyatt, feeling smug and not bothering to hide it. "I think I just found my calling. If I wouldn't make it as a nature photographer, I could always apply as your catsitter."
He just snorts. "I think you're way above my budget."
As someone whose flirting game is nonexistent, I don't know where I suddenly find the courage to blurt out things I never normally say. "You can just pay me with a kiss."
I think for sure Wyatt will laugh it off. Instead, he cups my jaw and pulls me to him in a kiss that leaves me shaking for more. Yep, that kind of payment definitely works.
Dinner is more relaxed than I would have thought possible after what happened earlier. We eat at the small table, our knees touching underneath, as I tell him about my photography classes and he shares stories about building the cabin.
I realize halfway through the meal that I'm laughing—really laughing, not the polite chuckle I've perfected for my parents' business dinners or the forced giggle for awkward dates. It's my real laugh, the one that sometimes snorts at the end, and I'm not even embarrassed when it happens.
"What?" Wyatt asks when I suddenly go quiet, staring at my bowl.
"Nothing," I say, then correct myself. "Actually, something. I just realized I feel ... relaxed. Like I can breathe properly for the first time."
His expression softens. "Good. That's good. After you finish, I have something to show you."
After dinner, he does just that, taking me to his stargazing spot. I grab my camera, excited by the prospect of night photography. This was my goal in coming here. Although, yeah, I did not account for getting lost and being totally unprepared for, well, everything.
"It's just up the ridge," he says, leading me outside. "Clearest view of the stars you'll ever see."
He's not exaggerating. When we reach the flat outcropping of rock, I gasp at the vast expanse of stars above us, more than I've ever seen in the city-light polluted skies I'm used to.
"This is incredible," I say, already adjusting my camera settings.
Wyatt spreads a blanket on the ground, and we lie back, shoulders touching as we gaze upward.
"So," I say after a comfortable silence, "did you bring me here hoping for a repeat of what happened earlier?"
He turns his head to look at me, surprise evident in his features before he bursts into laughter.
"Actually," he says when he catches his breath, "I brought you here because you mentioned wanting to photograph the Milky Way. But now that you mention it..."
He pulls me closer, and I go willingly, settling against his side as his arm wraps around me. I tilt my face up for his kiss, but first take a moment to capture a few shots of him looking up at the stars, his profile strong against the starlit sky.
When I review the images later, I know they'll be among my favorites—not just because they're technically good, but because they capture something true about him, and about this moment.
As I set my camera aside and curl into him, I'm struck by a sudden realization: it's been less than twenty-four hours since I stumbled, lost and afraid, into his territory.
One day. And yet I feel like a completely different person than the anxious, people-pleasing girl who was terrified of disappointing anyone.
Here, under the vast sky with Wyatt's steady heartbeat beneath my ear, I feel like myself. Not the self I've been pretending to be, but someone real and alive and present. I gaze up suddenly feeling like I could reach up and grab myself a star.
It should scare me, how quickly everything has changed. Instead, I feel like I've finally found solid ground after years of drifting.
One day with him, and something fundamental has shifted inside me.
I wonder what tomorrow will bring.