I clutch at him, then fumble in trying to unbutton his shirt. I can’t seem to stop, or even slow down. My whole body tingles, my skin tight, like there’s a honeyed lust growing and expanding inside me. I need him. I want to reclaim the man who was my first. Right now.
“You have too many buttons,” I say between kisses.
“I can take care of that.”
Gently pushing my hands out of the way, he grips his shirt and rips it apart. The sound ignites fire in my blood. The heat travels all the way down past my belly and pools between my legs.
Oh God.
Whimpering and unable to wait, I straddle him on the couch, my skirt hiking up. He smooths his large hands down my thighs, leaving trails of fire. The naked desire in his eyes is driving me crazy. There’s an almost uncontrollable urgency to his touch, and it’s intoxicating to know that his need equals mine.
His erection presses against me through my underwear. My mouth fused to his, I grind against him. His breathing grows rougher and he moves against me, pushing away the straps of my dress and unzipping the back, releasing the red satin. My breasts hang free.
“You aren’t wearing a bra,” he whispers, his gaze on them.
“This dress doesn’t look good with one,” I say, glad that after half an hour of earlier debate, I decided whatever and zipped it up sans bra. The stark expression on his face is priceless—and sexy as hell.
“Good thing I didn’t know. I don’t think I would’ve been able to control myself.”
I smile, feeling powerful and wicked at the way he’s looking at me. “Well, they’re all yours now.”
Wyatt makes a sound that’s halfway between a pant and a rumble. He lowers his head, pulling one of my nipples into his hot mouth. I whimper as electric pleasure winds through my core, digging my fingers into his surprisingly soft hair. He closes his free hand around the other breast, brushing against the tip with his thumb. I moan. It’s crazy how amazing this is, how liberating. Maybe it’s because we cleared the air between us, reached an understanding. But whatever it is, I feel safe with him.
He stands up, lifting me in his strong arms and moving down the hall. My heart flutters because I know exactly where we’re going. He takes me to his bedroom and lays me down on his bed. The sheets are cool against my back, and I love how they smell just like him.
I watch him discard his clothes, enjoying every inch of hot, hard masculinity that’s revealed. He’s gorgeous, more powerful and muscled than he looks in clothes. It’s turning me on to realize he’s mine to touch and take. I quickly sit up and I start to toe off my shoes, but he shakes his head.
“Leave ’em on.”
“You have a shoe fetish?” I tease, slightly breathless from anticipation.
“No. I have Kim fetish. And those shoes look amazing on you.”
He kisses me again, slipping his hand between my legs, sliding his fingers along my clit and folds, while he drags my underwear down my legs with the other hand and flings it over his shoulder. Oh God, he’s killing me, I think, as blissful delight pulses through me. I can’t think of a time I was this into sex.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he says, his voice guttural. He presses his thumb against my clit and pushes his finger into my pussy. But it isn’t enough. It’s nowhere near enough, because it isn’t what I want. I want both of us to feel really, really good.
“I want you. Inside me,” I demand. “Right now.”
He leaves me for a moment, reaching for a condom from a drawer on his nightstand. Once he’s fully sheathed, he pushes into me. I gasp at the thick, rigid invasion. He goes still for a moment, his eyes on mine. I smile, letting him know I’m more than fine. Only then does he start moving in and out, and I sigh at the delicious friction. I pull my knees up, holding them in my hands.
He kisses me hard, his thrusts harder and harder, every one creating a new hot wave of bliss.
I arch into him, reveling in the way his control slips a notch, his breathing growing rough, the guttural vibration in his chest. And I don’t try to hide my reaction, wanting him to know exactly how he’s making me feel. Pleasure builds and builds, making it nearly impossible to breathe.
Suddenly, an orgasm breaks over me. My back arches, and my knees slip from my hands. Wyatt’s fingers dig into my ass as he pushes into me one last, straining time. He groans against my neck as he climaxes. I hold him tightly, enjoying the moment when we’re both utterly helpless.
We stay entwined for a bit, clinging to each other. My vision’s a little blurry, and I can’t seem to focus as blood roars in my head. This is the best sex I’ve had since…well, ever. As much as the languid satisfaction turns my muscles to goo, I also sense a bit of vulnerability creeping over me. We both said a lot…did a lot. I wonder if this moment means as much to him as it does to me. Then I shake myself inwardly. What am I? A teenager? It’s very natural for two healthy adults who are attracted to each other to give in to it.
You call that…what? Justification for sleeping with Wyatt and feeling things maybe you shouldn’t?
Wyatt pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around me. I snuggle into him, ignoring the pesky voice in my head.
“Stay here tonight,” he murmurs. “With me.”
My heart stops for a second as a tiny hope stirs inside me that this could turn into more than just…physical fun. I place a hand on his warm, whisker-rough cheek. “Okay.”
Chapter Thirty-Six