Chapter 26 #3
And I’ve never felt anything like it.
Fuck!
I have to close my eyes and breathe through my nose and remind myself that I’m a grown man and not a teenager in the back of a truck.
“You okay?” I groan.
“More than okay.” She shifts under me, adjusting, and the movement pulls a deep groan out of my chest that I have no control over. “You?”
I lower my body over her until our chests are flush, but the feel of those perky breasts pressed against my chest doesn’t help matters.
“I’m tryin’ real hard to make this last longer than thirty seconds, so if you could hold still for one damn minute, I’d sure appreciate it, baby.”
She laughs then. It’s bright and startled, and I feel it everywhere because she’s wrapped around me and the vibration of it runs through my whole body.
“Don’t laugh.” I press my face into her neck. “I’m serious, Daisy. Last time I got my hands on you, I came in my jeans like a damn teenager. I’ve got a lot ridin’ on a second impression here.”
“I’m not laughing at you.” She runs her fingers through my hair, gentle now. “I’m just happy. Is that allowed?”
“Ask me again in ten minutes when I’ve had a chance to redeem myself.”
She tips my chin up and kisses me. “Clock’s ticking, cowboy.”
Then she wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me down to kiss me deeper, and I start to move.
Slowly at first, pulling nearly all the way out until she whimpers at the loss, then pushing deep until her breath catches and her walls grip me so tight my vision blurs.
Her hands slide down my back, nails dragging along my spine, and when I grind my hips at the bottom of a stroke, pressing my pelvis against her clit, she makes a sound against my mouth that I want to hear every day for the rest of my life.
I slow down just to see what happens. Pull back until only the tip of me is inside her, holding there, watching her face. Her breath stutters, her fingers dig into my hips trying to drag me back, and she whispers my name in a tone that has nothing to do with patience.
“Say that again.”
“Wyatt.” Breathier this time. “Please.”
“God, I love hearing you say my name.”
I shift the angle, hitching her thigh higher against my ribs, and the next stroke goes even deeper. Deep enough that she gasps into my mouth and her whole body tightens around me. “There?” I ask against her lips.
“There. God, yes, right there.”
“Tell me if it’s too much.”
“It’s not enough.” Then she presses her mouth to mine, her palms on my cheeks to whisper, “More, Wyatt. I want it all.”
That word—all—burns through whatever’s left of my restraint, and I stop holding back.
I drive into her harder, deeper, gripping her thigh to hitch it higher against my hip until every thrust bottoms out with a force that makes her cry out.
The headboard knocks against the wall and the bed frame groans beneath us, but I don’t care a damn about any of it because she’s moaning my name and her nails are shredding my back and the slick sound of our bodies moving together is the only thing I can hear.
Bracing myself on one forearm, I slide my other hand between us to find her clit, because I need to feel her come around me. I’m not going to last much longer and I damn well refuse to go first.
“You feel so good.” I press the words into the spot below her ear that makes her shiver. “So tight. So fuckin’ wet. You feel like everythin’ I’ve been missin’.”
Her nails rake down my back and the sting of it spurs me on, hips driving faster. The sounds she makes climb higher, breathier, and I can feel her tightening around me, close and getting closer.
“That’s it.” My thumb circles her clit and her whole body goes taut beneath me. “Come on, that’s it, let go. Need to feel you come on my cock, baby.”
“Right there,” she gasps. “God, Wyatt, right there, don’t stop.”
“Not stoppin’. Not ever.”
Then she shatters around me, and I can’t look away.
Her mouth falls open on a silent cry before the sound rips free, raw and broken.
Her walls clamp down on my cock in hard, rhythmic pulses that nearly drag me over the edge with her.
Her whole body arching against mine, tight and shaking, holding on to me like I’m the only solid thing left in the world.
I file every beat of it away, because I want to remember it for the rest of my life.
And when she cries out my name, it’s a prayer and a curse at the same time, and I feel every pulse of her around me, pulling me in.
I bury my face in her neck and thrust deep one last time, letting go. Six years of wanting crashes through me all at once, and I come so hard my arms give out.
“Daisy.”
Her name tears out of me rough and broken against her throat, and she holds on, fingers in my hair, legs locked around me, taking all of it, taking everything, until there’s nothing left but her heartbeat against mine.
We lie there tangled, and I try to remember how to breathe as her fingers trace lazy circles on the back of my neck. My face is pressed into her hair, and my arms are still around her because I’m not ready to let go. Not sure I’ll ever be ready.
Might die like this.
Worse ways to go.
“Wyatt?”
“Mm.”
“You’re heavy.”
“Yup.”
“Are you going to move?”
“Nope.”
She laughs, soft this time, right against my ear, and I roll to the side but take her with me so she’s tucked against my chest, her head fitting under my chin. Her hand rests flat over my heart, and I reach up my free hand to cover hers with mine.
She lifts her head after a while and looks at my face. Her fingers trace the line of my jaw, featherlight, up to the scar on my chin. She’s touched it before. I’ve seen her notice it a hundred times. But this time she leans up and presses her mouth to it gently and deliberately.
“Scars mean you survived,” she murmurs against my skin.
I pull her closer and press my mouth into her hair because if I try to speak right now, I’ll break.
“I was twelve when you got that,” she says quietly. “I climbed through the fence before anyone could stop me and pressed my hands to your face. There was blood everywhere and I didn’t care.”
“I remember.”
“I think that’s when I knew.” She traces the scar with her fingertip. “You were hurt and all I wanted to do was fix it. I was twelve years old and completely gone for you, and I didn’t even have the words for it yet.”
I look up at her, all tangled hair and flushed skin and kiss-swollen lips. I’ve seen this woman in a red dress that rewired my brain and a black suit that broke my heart, but I’ve never seen her like this. Bare and beautiful, and looking down at me like she belongs here.
Mine, if she’ll let me keep her.
“Stay.” The word comes out before I can think better of it. And what’s worse, I don’t just mean for tonight or the investigation. I mean stay.
Here.
With me.
She presses her face into my chest and holds on.
“I’m not going anywhere, Wyatt.”
Outside, the wind picks up across the north pasture and a gate latch rattles once before going still. I pull the covers over us and close my eyes, and for the first time in six years, the quiet in this house doesn’t feel like something missing.
It feels like something found.