Chapter 16 Wyatt
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Wyatt
Wednesday
I don’t know when I actually fall asleep.
One second, I’m staring at the ceiling, listening to the soft creaks of the cabin and the tiny sleep sounds of other people through thin walls. The next, the edges blur, and I’m not in my bed anymore.
I’m in her yard.
The sky’s that soft purple that happens just after sunset, when the world hasn’t decided if it’s done with the day.
She’s standing a few feet away, almost naked, hair loose around her shoulders, eyes glinting.
“Wyatt,” she says softly.
I step toward her.
Or maybe she steps toward me.
It’s impossible to tell who moves first. The distance just disappears.
Her hand lifts, fingertips brushing my jaw, feather light but electric. My heart slams hard once against my ribs.
I can feel every nerve in my body tuning to her, reaching for her because she’s gravity, and I’m just a loose orbit finally falling.
“You’re always so steady,” she whispers. “Except right now.”
She’s right. My hands are trembling.
“Abilene…” Her name feels too good in my mouth. “I…”
She rises on her toes.
And kisses me.
Her hands slide into my hair, pulling me down, pulling me in. A quiet sound leaves her throat, soft, needy, and I swear it goes straight through me, igniting something I’ve been trying so damn hard to ignore.
My pulse stutters.
Even more so as she slides to her knees in front of me, looking up at my now naked body. Her gaze moves up, seeking permission, and I’m so overwhelmed by the animal beauty of her that it takes several seconds to register she’s waiting for… something.
Consent? Encouragement?
I realize with a sudden, bodily jolt that this is for me, that in this place, she lives and breathes to read and react to the smallest flickers of my desire.
My hands, the traitors, thread through her hair, guiding her closer, cradling the back of her head as she glances up with a smile that’s all self-possessed mischief.
Her breath is humid, her mouth unbearably hot as she slides it over me.
I try to keep my eyes open, to memorize the sight of her, but the sensation blanks out thought, leaving me helpless as she works me with her tongue, her lips, and those skillful little hums that vibrate to the root of me.
“I… I need you,” I gasp before I become undone entirely. “I want to fuck you.”
I don’t think. It’s primal, pure heat, my hips rolling into her mouth.
She seems delighted by this, the way I lose composure, and she rewards me with a tight, savage suction that makes my toes curl. I want to bury myself inside her, want her to take me down so far I disappear.
But then the wildness darkens, and I yank at her hair, not gently, and she lets me pull her up, those hooded eyes greedy and faintly mocking.
She straddles me, black lace digging into her hips. My hands fumble for the elastic of her underwear, desperate, uncouth, and she shimmies for me.
Something about the power of it, the way she withholds and grants all at once, makes me frantic.
“Fuck, Abilene…”
But she isn’t teasing now. She wants this as much as I do, and it is so intense. I can’t get enough.
She arches her back and lets her hair cascade over her shoulder, head rolling in an ecstasy so naked it pins me in place more than any grip ever could.
I grab her hips, harder than I intend, and she rides me with a hunger that’s not pretty or polite. It’s the purest expression of wanting, and I’m grateful to be its object.
Just as she breathes my name again, the dream fractures. I wake up with my heart pounding as if I just sprinted the length of the ranch.
For a wild, disorienting second, I’m still there, in her yard, her mouth under mine, her fingers digging into my shoulders, my body lit up because someone rewired every nerve.
Then the ceiling of the cabin swims back into focus. Pale boards. Hairline cracks. The faint glow of predawn filtering around the edges of the curtains.
I blink hard.
My body is burning hot, a fine sheen of sweat on my skin. My pulse is racing. My breath comes in shallow bursts that have nothing to do with the temperature in the room.
“Jeez,” I mutter, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes.
Of all the times for my subconscious to go rogue, now?
In the middle of a crisis? With her asleep down the hall, trusting us to keep her safe?
I flop back against the pillow and stare at the ceiling again, trying to will my blood pressure down.
“Great timing, Tucker,” I mutter to myself. “Really stellar.”
I force myself to take inventory, just as I would in an exam room.
Heart rate: finally easing.
Breathing: ragged, but improving.
Mental state: somewhere between thirteen-year-old with first crush and grown man who just had a wholly inappropriate dream about a woman relying on him for safety.
I scrub my hands over my face again.
This isn’t new, not exactly. I’ve been drawn to her since long before the fire. Since the first time I saw her at the market, talking about her honey as if it was art and science and religion all rolled into one.
Since the first time she smiled at me over a jar labeled “Golden Meadow.”
But proximity does things. Rescuing someone does things.
Watching them in your cabin, barefoot and soft-voiced and trying not to fall apart, does things.
“Okay,” I tell myself. “Here’s the plan. Step one: get up. Step two: cold water. Step three: do not be weird around her.”
Easier said than done.
I roll out of bed and stand there, grounding myself. The floor is cool under my feet. It smells less smoky than last night, more pine and stale coffee.
Somewhere beyond the thin wall, I hear somebody, Marshall, probably, shift in bed.
I grab clean clothes from the chair, dress quickly, and head for the bathroom.
The cold water helps. A little.
By the time I step into the main room, the cabin is just starting to stir.
Light seeps in through the windows, pale and gray. The fire map on my phone shows no major changes overnight.
The twins are still asleep in the loft. I can hear Jesse snoring faintly from his room, an almost comical contrast to the quiet.
For a blissful few minutes, it’s just me and the soft sounds of the cabin waking up.
I need this peace.
For the rest of the day, I’d love just this.
But of course, I highly doubt I’m going to get that…