Chapter 7
Everleigh
I really need to return Wyatt’s button-up shirt. At least that’s what I tell myself as I strip out of my pajamas and slip the green, blue, and white patterned flannel over my shoulders. My hard nipples tingle as they glide against the fabric.
This is so wrong.
And yet, I can’t seem to stop myself.
“It’s just a crush,” I mumble, buttoning up the shirt, leaving the top three buttons undone.
It’s not enough to expose my nipples, but I bet it’d be enough cleavage to give Wyatt Knight a hard on.
At least, in my imagination it is. Because that’s all this is, I remind myself as I pull my favorite vibrating dildo from my nightstand drawer—a fantasy.
I have an hour before Wyatt’s due to pick me up to head to Stone Ranch.
For once, oversleeping wasn’t an issue. I spent the night tossing and turning about my camera.
I’m banking on this early morning orgasm to give me the courage I need to take photographs today.
All hard things are easier to face on orgasm brain.
Probably should’ve remembered that when I went up against that tube of cinnamon rolls the other morning.
The idea of holding my Nikon is far scarier than that stupid tube, though. Which is why I’m entertaining this forbidden fantasy at all. Pretending Wyatt’s watching me play with myself? Well, that’s sure to make me come extra hard.
I need all the help I can get.
I toss aside the covers in the dark room illuminated by the glow of early morning twilight, propping up the pillows so my body sits at a forty-five-degree angle.
I bend my knees and spread my thighs wide.
Wetness drips from my pussy as I pretend Wyatt’s sitting in a chair at the edge of the bed, wearing nothing but a cowboy hat and a smile as he watches me.
I imagine him fisting his cock as he tells me to Go ahead, Ev.
Show me how you use that toy on yourself.
I spread my pussy lips with my fingers, widening the path for the bright orange ribbed dildo. I no longer have to wonder if Wyatt’s cock is bigger than my toy—after bumping it with my ass last night, I know for a fact it is. So much bigger. God, I bet it’d split me in two.
A whimper escapes my throat as I slowly slide the toy through my folds, coating it in my wetness.
When the tip grazes my button, my hips buck.
Fuck, this isn’t going to take long at all unless I slow it down.
Applying pressure to my clit with the tip, I stroke the dildo through my folds, bringing myself right up to the edge.
I yank it away two seconds before I explode. I don’t want to come yet. I want this orgasm to be so fucking good I forget what fear even is.
I press the button on the wand, and it vibrates in my hand.
Good girl, Ev. Now put it inside you.
It’s Wyatt’s gruff voice in my head encouraging me, making me wetter by the second. I lift my hips and insert the toy into my channel, the buzzing almost too much. I can feel the vibration in my fucking nipples.
Change the setting. You know which one I want you to use.
With my thumb, I press the button three times. The dildo doesn’t just vibrate, now it also thrusts inside me.
“Fuck,” I cry out, losing the battle to keep my eyes open. Not that it matters. Open or closed, it’s all too easy to imagine Wyatt, cock in hand, watching me, that pleased grin spread across his lips as he pumps in time with me.
Touch yourself, sweetheart. Do it now.
As the dildo moves inside me, I use two fingers to circle my clit.
Let’s come together, Ev.
In my very active imagination, I watch Wyatt stroke his cock fast and rough. Make yourself come. Do it now. He grunts as cum shoots from his tip.
That’s all it takes.
I lose it.
I come apart with violent tremors that nearly toss me off the bed. I cry out Wyatt’s name, clawing at the sheets as I picture him pushing off his chair, his cock covered in cum, and stalking my way.
I’m not done with you, Ev.
Shit! Abort!
I yank the vibrating toy out from inside me, turning it off and tossing it away.
As though the thing is possessed. It’s one thing to picture my closest guy friend as I bring myself to climax.
Wyatt’s fucking hot, and this is just a harmless crush.
A crush I’ll soon work out its way out of my system.
Then things will finally go back to normal between us.
It’s just a means to an end right now, that’s it.
Still, it’s a whole other matter entirely to let that fantasy continue after I’ve achieved my goal. To crave that cum-covered rod inside me like some primal animal.
What the fuck is going on with me?
Because I refuse to ponder what this might all mean, I force myself out of bed to confront the challenge that matters.
I turn on the lamp, kneel at the closet, and I pull the rose gold camera case from the corner.
I’m determined to overcome my irrational fear while my brain’s too scrambled to process it fully.
It’s ridiculous to be afraid of a fucking camera.
It’s just an instrument. It didn’t cause any destruction. It’s harmless.
I open the case, feeling overconfident.
It doesn’t last.
The second the Nikon’s in my grasp, my hands start to tremble violently.
I force myself to push through it, turning the camera on.
“You can do hard things.” But my whispered words wobble as the growing panic builds.
I’m frozen there on the floor as an image of a familiar neighborhood pops up on the screen.
One that has haunted my nightmares for a year.
The houses that once lined Deer Crossing Circle are nothing more than a pile of rubble.
I freeze, unable to breathe.
I can practically feel the death grip of Connie Wilson’s hand on my wrist, the glare of her cold, hard eyes so unsettling it’s painful.
My throat closes, tears dropping down my cheeks as though a water main broke.
I hope it was worth it. The malice—the hatred—in her hazel eyes will haunt me until the day I die.
“Everleigh?” Wyatt’s voice calls out. I search the room, but all I see is the splintered remains of dozens of houses in the cul-de-sac. I spin in a circle, too desperate to find the man calling my name to care that the memory is inaccurate. I need him.
“Ev?” he says again, his voice gentler.
Wyatt wasn’t in Oklahoma that day, but I crave his presence just the same.
I’m desperate for the safety I feel in his arms.
“Everleigh, hey. It’s okay. I’m here.”
His warmth surrounds me as he pulls me into his lap and holds me tight against him, the memory dissolving behind my closed eyelids.
I inhale his familiar country scent, mixed with some very pleasant aftershave, grounding myself.
I’m home. I’m safe. The destructive memory vanishes around me, and I finally breathe again.
I’m on my bedroom floor, curled up in Wyatt’s lap. At least, I think I am. Shit, maybe making myself come to the fantasy of him watching me was a bad idea. I can’t find the line that skates between reality and illusion.
“I’m here, Ev.” One hand wraps around my head, holding me against his hard, warm chest. I can feel his heart beat against my cheek. He feels so real. “You’re okay. I’m not going anywhere.”
He’s really here.
I think.
“Wyatt?”
“Yes, sweetheart. I’m here.”
Sweetheart. He’s never called me that before. Not until this most recent fantasy, anyway. My throat constricts, fear that this too is an illusion. Fuck, what is wrong with me? I hate feeling this broken and scattered.
Wyatt presses a kiss to my temple, and my entire body buzzes with electricity.
Real.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?” he asks, his low voice gentle.
It’s almost enough to break me. I want to tell him everything.
But I can’t go there. Not today when Macy’s expecting me to show up with a camera like it’s no big deal.
I have to have my shit together, and falling apart any more than I already have would be a terrible idea.
“No,” I finally say, pushing my palm against his chest to look up at him. I’m too intimidated to look him in the eyes, afraid it’ll shatter the fantasy if I’m still trapped in one. I stare at the stubble on his cheek instead, wondering for a second time this week if it’s scratchy or soft.
Wyatt wipes at the tears on my cheek with the pads of his thumb. “Do you want me to change the SD card for you?”
I bury my face against him, nodding against his chest. I squeeze my eyes shut as I feel him maneuver around me with both arms. He doesn’t let go as I hear the click of a new SD card being inserted into the Nikon.
“There. Good as new.”
The relief I feel is instant, the emotion of it all so overwhelming I nearly start to cry again.
“Ev?”
“Yeah?”
“Is this my shirt?” he asks, his voice a possessive growl I may or may not be imagining.
But it doesn’t matter if it’s reality or fantasy.
Not with all this fucking emotion rushing me like a dam’s broken.
The need for an outlet brings out my reckless side.
But I don’t even try to fight the urge as I shift in Wyatt’s lap, sliding my knees down either side of his thighs.
I snake a hand up his neck and drag his lips to mine.
Soft, I decide of his stubble.
There’s no awkward pause or hesitation. His mouth moves against mine immediately, slow yet greedy, as though we’ve kissed a thousand times before.
He slides a hand over my ass, likely discovering I’m sans panties.
“Fuck,” he groans, grabbing one cheek and squeezing.
I feel desire pulsing from him as he kisses me harder, his tongue demanding entry into my mouth. I shamelessly widen my thighs and grind against his jean-clad hard length as his hand slides up my back.
“Everleigh,” he moans, his mouth sliding down my neck. He runs his tongue along my collarbone, tugging at the wide opening to expose a nipple. I slide a hand up the back of his head, pulling back to watch him. His mouth glides south.
Half a second before it closes over my nipple, a shrill ring echoes in the room.
I roll off of him as though a bomb exploded between us. I’m both shocked and embarrassed by what just happened. Shit, shit, shit. What the hell was I thinking? A new type of panic assaults me as I watch him pull his phone from his shirt pocket. He glances at the screen then silences the call.
“Ev—"
“I’m so sorry.” I say, covering my face with both hands, turning away from him. “I’m so sorry. Fuck, I didn’t mean—”
“Everleigh,” Wyatt says, his voice firm as he stands. I turn, backing up against the wall. It’s impossible not to notice the bulge in his jeans, right where I left a wet spot. “It’s okay—”
“No. No, it’s not okay at all. I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t mean to do that.” Wyatt lets out a sigh I couldn’t begin to decipher if I tried. Desperate to keep him from speaking, I blurt, “That was a huge mistake. Can we please just pretend it never happened? Please?”
“Is that what you want?” The way he pins me in place with his hard stare is a challenge. He’s calling bullshit, but I pretend not to notice.
I fortify every wall at my disposal, praying the ones around my heart are extra thick, before firmly answering, “Yes, it is.”
He pinches his lips as he seems to consider his next words for several stretched seconds. Finally, he settles with, “I’ll wait for you in my truck.”