"But I guess that's the real question," he continues. "Is there a man you want?"
My heart jumps a little in my chest. And when I answer, it's a whisper. "Actually, there might be."
"In that case," he says, "I think you should go after him."
25
I draw a deep breath, trying to quell my rising panic.
Go after him? I've never gone after a man in my life. Going after men was definitely not on my father's approved activity list. And while I may have deviated far away from the ridiculous parameters he set for me, that doesn't change the very basic fact that I have absolutely no experience whatsoever.
At the same time, I'm ninety-nine percent sure that Wyatt's a sure thing, and that knowledge does a lot for my courage. Couple that with the fact that my body still aches for a touch that never came, and it's easy to find the moxie to get out of the bed and go to where he's stretched out on the couch.
It's dark, but I can make out the outline of his body under a thin blanket. His eyes are open, reflecting the tiny bit of light in the room. And I can see that he's amused.
Immediately, I resolve to change that amusement to something quite different.
"Hi," I say, then slowly pull back his blanket.
"Hi, yourself," he says.
I sit on the edge of the couch as I press a finger over his mouth, then trail it down over his chin, his neck, his collar bone. He's not wearing a shirt, and I trace my finger lower and lower, relishing the way the muscles in his abdomen tighten as I graze his skin. And then, just about the time I hit the band of his briefs, I pull my hand away.
He makes a small noise of protest, which fuels my courage, and this time, I get on the couch and straddle him, my knees just above his hips so that I'm rubbing his cock every time I move.
And moving is exactly what I intend to do.
I move my hips back and forth, back and forth. I'm not wearing underwear, and my bare sex is rubbing the cotton of his briefs, and the friction is doing quite a number on me.
But I'm getting myself off, and that's not what I want. So I shift again, this time leaning forward so that I can kiss my way up his body. And when I reach his ear, I whisper, "You said the women I admire go after what they want? That they demand it?"
"Mmm."
"Well, I know what I want, Wyatt."
He'd closed his eyes, but he opens them now and looks at me with interest. "Do you?"
"I want you to be in charge." He says nothing, so I rush on. "That's what excited me originally. When you sa
id that I had to do what you said in front of the camera and in your bed. What you said. So that's what I want. That's what I'm going after. A man who takes charge."
I lick the edge of his ear, then whisper. "So tell me. Am I cheating?"
He chuckles. "No. I don't think it's a cheat at all. Or if it is, it's a cheat I like." He props himself up on his elbows. "Stand up," he orders. "And take off your nightgown."
I start to protest, then realize this is my doing, so I obey. I toss the gown over the arm of the couch and stand naked in front of him.
He sits up, then crooks a finger so that I approach him. Then he slips his fingers between my legs and teases my clit until I'm certain that my legs are going to collapse.
"Tell me what you want," he says.
"You. I just want you."
His dimple flashes as he smiles. "Good answer."
He stands and strips off his briefs, then sits back down. "I'm going to fuck you, Kelsey. Because I've been thinking about it since you walked into my studio. I want to bury myself inside you. I want to feel you come, your muscles tightening around me. And then I want to hold you close as you fall asleep in my arms."
I make a kind of whimpering noise, and he chuckles. "Do you want me to wear a condom? I'm clean--I've been tested--but it's up to you."