Chapter 31
MADDIE
Our clothes are soaked through when we stumble into my house through the back door. We cover the hardwood floor in water droplets and muddy footprints as we enter the mud room.
Inevitably, Wyatt and I got caught in the rain on the ride home from pasture thirty-six.
Even though it would have been impossible to make it back given how far away from any buildings we were, we still tried.
I haven’t felt that kind of exhilaration in a long time and I can’t help but feel that maybe Wyatt has something to do with that.
I kick off my boots and bend to pull off my socks before dropping them to the floor next to my shoes. Thank God for heated flooring. I wouldn’t normally have it on in the middle of summer, but I switched it on via my phone when we reached the barn with the horses.
Without checking to see if Wyatt is following me, I head for the laundry room on the opposite side of the kitchen.
There is a pile of clean towels in there that haven’t quite made it upstairs yet, so we can get dried off and maybe throw our clothes in the dryer while we’re at it.
I don’t know about Wyatt, but everything I’m wearing is soaked through.
He’s going to be naked in my house.
I push the thought away, focusing on the physical motions I need to go through because if I focus too hard on that I might ask him for more.
Pulling two towels out of the laundry basket, I shove them into the dryer before turning to hand another one to Wyatt. He throws the towel over his head, drying his hair as I run mine over my face and down my neck.
An involuntary shiver runs down my spine when I catch sight of him. If I thought his white T-shirt was molded to his body earlier, it’s now plastered, leaving nothing to my imagination.
When he pulls the towel off his head, I swallow thickly as I stare at his now messy hair, remembering what the strands felt like between my fingers.
The air is sucked out of the room, and the sound of the dryer becomes muted as I watch him and he watches me.
I dare not move, let alone speak, in case the tension swirling between us snaps.
We can’t do this again, and yet I find myself unable to come up with a reason as to why.
Wyatt throws his towel on the counter; it lands with a soft thud, and I flinch, my body on high alert and in desperate need of his touch. He pauses, his gaze assessing as he reaches for the hem of his T-shirt, like he’s not sure if he should.
In hindsight, we should have stayed in the barn—in a building full of people—until the rain stopped, but no, silly old me wanted to get changed and offered Wyatt to come back to my place where we’d be all alone.
I was only thinking of how I needed to get us somewhere that Deacon wouldn’t find him; it didn’t cross my mind that I’d be isolating us.
Now we’re here and there’s nothing to stop us from colliding. Not even my own sanity.
Wyatt drags the soaked material up his body at an excruciatingly slow pace, and I suck in a sharp breath as he slowly reveals his torso to me, inch by glorious inch.
I want to lick him; he looks so delectable.
It doesn’t escape my attention that this is the first time neither of us has been consumed by our emotions—there’s no anger or jealousy—and we can actually revel in the moment.
Wyatt throws the wet T-shirt onto the counter, and it lands with a sharp slap next to his towel.
A shiver runs down my spine, but I can’t tell if it’s because I’m cold in the air-conditioned room or from the anticipation of what I know is to come.
There’s no denying that our years of friction have created the most combustible tension between us.
He reaches out, taking the towel from my hands. I don’t put up a fight. Hell, I don’t want to put up a fight. I don’t want to stop whatever is happening; I just want to have him again. I’ll deal with the fallout later.
With nothing to hold on to, my arms drop to my side, and I search his face for answers to questions I don’t dare voice as he closes the gap between us.
Pinching the sodden material of my T-shirt, he pulls it from the waistband of my jeans before gripping the hem and pulling it up my body without a single protest from me.
He’s so close that I can feel the heat emanating from him. It wouldn’t take an ounce of effort for me to lean forward and brush my lips across his chest.
When he dips his head, I lift mine, the ghost of his breath skating over my lips as I wait for him to devour me.
I expect him to be commanding, to take what he wants without question, but he surprises me with his hesitation.
This isn’t the Wyatt I know, but then again, the Wyatt I know wouldn’t have turned up at my office and asked what my plans were for the land he now owns.
Skating a thumb across the line of my jaw, he whispers, “If you want me, kiss me, Mad.”
I like to think he calls me Mad because I drive him mad, just as much as he drives me. Maybe I’ll ask him one day, but not right now. Whenever I’m near him, like this, I lose all my senses and I’m at his command. If he told me to jump, I’m not sure I’d think twice.
Perhaps that’s why I find myself moving without even thinking.
My eyes flutter closed and I lift my hands, pressing my palms against the warm, still damp, expanse of his chest. The dusting of hair is wiry under my fingers, adding to the sensations currently overwhelming my body.
I want him—all of him—so badly that it’s almost too much to bear, from the feel of his grip flexing on my hips to the excited desire flowing through my veins.
I close the small gap between our mouths, pressing my lips against his full soft ones. It’s as though he was waiting for my acquiescence, because he bands an arm around my waist, tugging me into his body as he falls into his hunger for me.
He demands entry into my mouth, and I give it, tangling my tongue with his. All that matters is that at this moment he’s mine.
Mine.
The word bounces around my mind before I brush it away, forcing myself to focus on the here and now, because outside of lust, thinking of him as mine feels far too dangerous.
Looping my arms around his neck, I press my body against Wyatt’s, my hunger for him evident as I try to fuse us together. An overwhelming need to make us one floods through me.
His erection presses into my stomach, fueling me as I run my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. I want to savor this moment because I don’t know when or if it will happen again. Deep down, I know it shouldn’t but that doesn’t stop me hoping it will.
Wyatt grabs my ass, squeezing the flesh of one cheek until I moan into his mouth. The sound is desperate and filled with lust. And all Wyatt needs to hear.
With one arm around my waist, he grips the back of my thigh with his free hand and lifts me into his arms. I wrap my legs around him, in desperate need of relief.
We’re moving before I’ve had a chance to hook my ankles behind him, but I know that in his arms I’m safe.
It’s in the way he grips me a little tighter as he moves to the counter.
Ripping my mouth from his, I tip my head back and suck in a breath, desperate for air. This is too much. I feel like I’m on fire and everything is a little hazy but that I need more. I crave more.
With his mouth free, Wyatt moves to nip and kiss along the exposed skin of my throat as I stare at the ceiling, trying to put my thoughts in order. He’s all-consuming, driving me out of my goddamn mind.
He sets me down on the counter and steps between my legs.
My nipples press painfully against my bra, desperate to have him pay them some attention.
No sooner has the thought entered my head than he’s bending, pulling down one bra cup and sucking my nipple into his mouth.
He grazes it with his teeth before salving it with his tongue.
“Jeans. Off,” I pant, my head thrown back as I arch my chest into him.
He chuckles against my breast, the cool air of his breath sending a current of need to my pussy. “Yes, darlin’.”
With one last suck on my nipple, Wyatt straightens, reaching for my jeans and making quick work of getting them undone. I lift my hips when he pulls them down, leaning back on my hands as I watch him drop them to the floor.
“Good boy,” I praise, loving the way his eyes darken every time I say it. Who would have thought that big, bad Wyatt Wilde would like to be praised. “Now it’s your turn,” I demand, arching a brow as my chest heaves.
He licks his lips, before biting down on the bottom one as he works on undoing his jeans, his gaze watchful.
Removing his wallet, Wyatt throws it onto the counter beside me before pushing the denim material down his legs and kicking them off.
His erection is unmissable in the wet white boxer briefs that cling to his thick thighs.
For a moment, I wonder what he tastes like and if I’d like having him in my mouth.
He’s big, bigger than I’ve ever had, and it hasn’t escaped my notice that each time we’ve had sex, I haven’t had the chance to get up close and personal with his cock.
“Don’t even think about it,” Wyatt growls, drawing my attention back to his face.
Innocently, I flutter my lashes at him and tip my head as I ask, “Think about what?”
He steps back between my legs, his hands cupping my head as he drags them from the top of my hair to my cheeks. “Whatever you were thinking in that pretty little head of yours.”
He thinks I’m pretty.
My heart flutters. Why that fills me with a giddy sensation I don’t know, and it’s not something I’m going to examine any further right now. Or ever. This is just sex. Nothing more.
But you want him to be yours. And I’m sane enough to know that won’t ever happen.