Then I take the hem of his shirt and lift it upwards. I’m slow, cautious, and testing, and Wyatt lets me cross this bridge in my own time. It becomes a game of like for like. We’re equals in this give and take. One piece of clothing at a time measured and mirrored movements. There’s no stronger hand, but a common ground we walk together.
Standing before one another fully naked under the spray, I can’t say who kisses who first. It’s a mesh of lips colliding, our desperation to be in this moment visceral. It’s raw, unhurried, yet urgent. The kind of kiss that anchors you and sets you adrift all at once. Wyatt’s hands slide to my waist, long fingers pressing into my skin as if to remind himself I’m real. The water cascades over us, washing away the grime of the forest and the tension from days of uncertainty.
This is not like the last time we showered together, when we were both using each other for gain. Both trying to rid ourselves of the demons that fuel this attraction, hoping it would fizzle out afterwards. It didn’t fizzle at all and has only proven to stoke the flames higher.
Is this an escape from all the shit happening outside this B&B? One hundred percent. And I’m going to take that escape before the world comes crashing down on my head.
I’m the girl he’s not supposed to have, who he can’t want. He’s the asshole who’s given me every reason to walk away—the reason I hate myself for still being here and giving myself to him like this. But I can’t stop. I walk into that fire, willing it to burn me to ashes.
My fingers tangle in his wet hair, tugging gently, pulling him closer. Every shiver of his body against mine feels like a revelation. We’re notjust touching. We’re unraveling each other, piece by piece, barrier by barrier. The water is warm, but it’s his body against mine that sets me alight.
I break the kiss, gasping for air, and his forehead drops to mine. His breath fans across my lips, uneven and heavy, green eyes searching mine. There’s an unspoken question in them, one I answer by threading my fingers down his arms and lacing them through his.
Wyatt swallows hard, his throat bobbing with the effort. His expression seems to say,‘you’re everything I’ve ever wanted’,though no words pass his lips. He presses his palm flat against my lower back, guiding me under the full force of the water. The spray beats down on us, encasing us together and silencing out everything else.
I brace my hands upon his chest. His dragon tattoo breathes with him, rising and falling, shifting with the pull at his ribs. My hands trail down his chest, water pooling in the dips and lines of his muscles. I memorize them with my fingertips, each tremor of his body another page written into the story we’re creating. I find myself wondering how he would write this and what words he’d use to describe how he’s feeling.
Revealing he is Mr. XO gave me the answers I wanted but also cut me off from his thoughts. The connection I didn’t even know we had has been severed, and I’m only just realising its lasting effects.
Wyatt's fingers skim over the curve of my shoulder, tracing a trail of water running down my arm. His hair falls forward, his eyes becoming shielded. He uses this to his advantage, as if cutting off our eye contact allows him to push forward with his most hidden desires. The kiss reignites, possessive and deliberate. His lips part against mine as his hands slide lower, framing my hips, his touch firm and grounding.
I press closer, not permitting any space between us as the warm water cascades in a curtain, parting only for our joined limbs. My palms glide along his sides, over the ridges of muscle and damp, smooth skin.
Wyatt explores just as much, brushing soaked strands of hair from my face, his fingers lingering near my temple before trailing down my jaw. His thumb grazes my lips, his chest heaving against mine with the weight of restraint. Slowly, his hand drops lower, teasing the path down my ribs, his palm flattening against my stomach. Every touch ignites a spark that is quickly catching fire. I’m too hot, too taut.
Imeet his gaze, the water streaking between us doing nothing to blur the intensity of his green eyes locked on mine. Then he reaches down, deftly sliding his hand between my thighs. I gasp at his touch, and he seems to breathe it in, his lips hovering over mine. My pleasure is his drug of choice, speared on by his fingers rolling over my clit. Wyatt roams in steady circles, pushing me to the edge of sanity. I roll my hips, trying to urge him further south, but he’s not having it.
The kiss resumes, hungrier this time, his mouth capturing mine with a fervor that seems to say everything he refuses to put into words. He craves me, and that thought drives me higher and higher. I arch into him, holding onto his shoulders. My nails lightly graze his skin, relishing how his muscles tense beneath my touch, a quiet shudder betraying the tension he’s holding back.
The room is filled with the steady rhythm of water hitting tile, but it’s the sound of my ragged breaths and the low, throaty growl from deep within him that drowns everything else out. He tilts his head, breaking the kiss, only to press his lips to the hollow of my throat. The sensation pulls me under, my hands threading into his hair again. The slide of skin against skin, slick and heated, binds us in a way that feels primal, raw, and unapologetic.
“Angel,” Wyatt mutters, a cracked sound that strips me bare. “Go lie on the bed. I’ll be there in two minutes.” I hesitate, not ready to leave his heat, but knowing the quicker we get out of this shower, the quicker we can connect in the way we want. The way we need if we’re going to be able to face the world as a united front. Clearly, fighting against each other isn’t going to get us anywhere.
Wiggling the rest of the way out of my leggings, I leave the soppy heap in the corner of the cubicle and leave, grabbing a towel on my way out. I roughly shake it over my hair, leaving the ends damp and crinkled. I’d already showered before Wyatt arrived, but I wasn’t going to deny seeing where his passions would go. Closing the curtains, I leave the lamp on for mood lighting and wander back towards the back. The shower soon shuts off with a dull echo through the pipes.
When Wyatt appears, a towel is pinned around his waist, and his eyes zeroed in on me like a target. He picks me up mid-stride, one hand gripping my thigh and lifting me effortlessly. Instinctively, my legs wrap around his waist.
“I thought I told you to be lying on the bed.” He grumbles, his mouth against the curve of my neck. The vanilla body wash clings to his skin, colliding with my senses. Droplets from his hair roll down my chest and collect in my bra. I bite my lip, smirking at the feel of his messy kisses against my skin.
“That would be counterproductive to me disobeying you.”
“Which would also be counterproductive to me making love to you,” Wyatt retorts. I fall still in his arms, stunned into submission. His mouth doesn’t stop moving, speaking between kisses. “I can’t throw you around and spank you tonight.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?” I ask, gripping his sharp jaw so he will look at me. Bags hang beneath his eyes, speaking of days without real sleep, but it doesn’t seem to phase him.
“Stop testing me and let us have this.” Wyatt groans somewhat painfully. I push his wet hair aside so I have an uninterrupted view of his eyes and the plea held within. “We need this.” The walls he’s built falter briefly, and in that fleeting moment, I see a crack in his armor. Something vulnerable, almost tender, before it’s replaced by the all-consuming intensity of his next kiss.
I’m lowered onto the mattress, quickly pushed down by his weight. Given that my legs are still wrapped around his hips and the towel from his waist is now missing, Wyatt slides into me without hesitation. There’s no barrier between us; his intrusion is like a claim that leaves no room for doubt. His breath catches, a hopeless sound that mixes with mine as he pushes deeper, his body fitting against mine perfectly.
Wyatt props himself on his forearms, his green eyes locking onto mine, the intensity of his gaze making my chest tighten. He moves deliberately, as though mapping every reaction, every shudder that escapes me. The weight of him pins me to the mattress, grounding me in the moment, while the slow, hypnotic rhythm of his body against mine pulls me into a haze.
His lips find mine again, softer this time, almost reverent. His lips melt against me with every careful thrust of his hips. His fingers splay across my waist, gripping just enough to hold me in place as he shifts his weight slightly, angling deeper. The change makes me groan, my nails finding purchase on his shoulders. Wyatt moans in response, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine.
But it’s his face that has me enthralled. I can’t close my eyes, drinking in the sight of him. He’s beautiful normally, but when he’s this raw, he’s breath-taking. Pressing his bruised lips together, his eyes become more glazed, everything centered on where his body joins mine. Our movements fall into sync, a slow build of tension winding through every nerve. He refuses to pick up the pace, remaining steady whilst I’m trembling beneath him.
The room feels smaller, the dim light casting shadows over the planes of his body, accentuating every taut muscle, every bead of water still clinging to his tattooed skin. Wyatt presses his forehead to mine, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as his rhythm falters, a telltale sign that he’s holding himself back.
I lift my hips to meet his, wordlessly urging him to let go and to stop holding back. His restraint finally snaps, and his rhythm grows faster and more erratic, the intensity between us reaching its peak. Wyatt’s hand slips beneath my lower back, lifting me into him as he drives deeper, the coil of tension finally unraveling in a rush of heat and electricity that leaves me gasping his name. His own release follows, his body trembling above me as he buries his face in the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin.
