Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Even Lester, though I won’t tell him that or he’d repeat it until the day I die. I can hear him now: “Bawk! You love me, you weally wuv me!”
A yawn I’ve been fighting back demands release, and Wyatt laughs as I cover my wide-stretched mouth with my hands. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Wyatt says. “You’re a very busy woman.”
“I’m not that tired,” I protest, but he kisses the top of my head.
“You need some rest, Miss Working Two Jobs,” Wyatt says. “It means you’re human.”
“Basically three,” I correct him. “I made as much playing pool a few nights ago as I did waiting tables all day. Hell of a lot more fun, too, but not nearly as important as helping Etta.”
I feel the thread of tension shoot through him and hate that my good relationship with my family only amplifies the bad one he has with his dad and uncle. “Three, then. Glad I didn’t play you for cash,” he says after a moment. “I should tuck you in.”
“Not getting off this couch unless you’re in bed with me,” I tell him firmly but quietly. “It’s too late to drive home.”
Talk about a piss-poor excuse. But the truth is, feeling Wyatt here with me, the way he’s holding me, strong but at the same time willing to be emotionally vulnerable and share himself with me . . . things have changed.
Last night, I could tell myself it was just lust, attraction, and the fantastical romance of a wedding. I mean, Wyatt is a gorgeous man. But this is something different now. Wyatt led a seemingly charmed life, but he’s got trust issues from a betrayal by the people who should never have wronged him. When a man doesn’t trust easily, it means something when he shares his baggage. I know that, and I want to be someone who doesn’t let him down. I’ll carry those heavy suitcases of drama on my strong shoulders with him, letting him take a break from them, if only for a little while.
“One promise,” Wyatt says in my ear. “We don’t need to . . .”
“I know,” I tell him.
He gives me a gentle push to help guide me up, and I lead him to my bedroom, where Wyatt strips down to his T-shirt and underwear. I let him pull back the covers, arranging myself best so that he can join me, tucking us both in as he spoons up against me.
It’s glorious. His warmth surrounds me, his chest pressed to my back and his hand splayed on the bare skin of my belly beneath my shirt. I wiggle my hips, arching my back to entice him.
“Hazel,” he says warningly.
I yawn, even as I place his hand on my breast encouragingly. “I am tired, but I . . .”
My voice falters. I don’t want to remind either of us that he’s going to leave, not after everything we shared tonight. But I also don’t want to waste this time with him.
He understands without me saying a word. Instead, his hand cups my breast as his lips find my neck, kissing and nibbling up to my ear. The hand trapped under my neck twists to reach down, stroking my nipples as his tongue licks my ear.
“Mmmm,” I whimper softly, pressing back against him. “Wyatt . . .”
“This isn’t for me,” he whispers. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
I don’t think he realizes the layers of what he says, but it hits me hard. So when his free hand traces down my stomach, my knees part as he runs his fingers over my panties, stroking me through the slick nylon I put on after my shower.
“So soft,” he whispers, his fingers moving up and down over my lips so gently it makes electricity crackle through my nerves. “So beautiful.”
“Wyatt,” I whimper again, and he slides my panties aside to dip his fingers into my wet honey. There are no more words, nothing but the sound of his fingers slipping in and out of me as his thumb strokes my clit in slow, soft circles, his other hand pinching and tugging lightly on my nipples.
I can feel him bulging against my ass, but he never moves his hips, holding me secure in his arms as his thumb speeds up until my orgasm breaks and I freeze, gasping and crying out softly. I’m 100 percent safe in his arms, and he stops, holding me close as he lets me ride it out.
When it’s over I’m boneless, sagging in his arms. Slowly, Wyatt withdraws his fingers, lifting them to his mouth and licking them clean.
“What about you?” I ask, feeling him still hard against the cleft of my ass.
“Told you,” he says, humming happily even though I’m the one who came. “This was about you.”
I think I argue, but maybe not as I drift off to sleep.