3
EMMA
My legs wobble as we near the cabin. Every nerve ending in my body is still tingling from what happened in the clearing. I keep stealing glances at Wyatt, his profile sharp against the afternoon light, his hand engulfing mine.
I've never done anything like that before. Never let someone... My cheeks burn at the memory of his mouth on me, his neck between my thighs. The way he held me up like I weighed nothing.
"You okay?" Wyatt's voice rumbles beside me, low and concerned.
I can only smile, not trusting my voice. We reach the cabin door, and he lets go of my hand to fish out his keys. The moment stretches between us, electric and taut. A surge of heat, violent and sudden, courses through me, and I really have no idea what possessed me to do what I did next.
"Emma—" he starts, but I don't let him finish.
I grab his shirt and pull him down to me, surprising both of us with my boldness. His keys clatter to the ground as he presses me against the door, his mouth hot and demanding on mine. I wrap my arms around his neck, needing to be closer.
He fumbles with the door handle behind me, and suddenly we're stumbling inside, a tangle of limbs and desperate breaths. The door slams shut behind us.
"I've been thinking about this since the clearing," I whisper against his mouth.
A growl rises from his chest as he lifts me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist. "Been thinking about it longer than that, baby."
The endearment sends a shiver through me. He carries me across the room, pressing me against the wall beside his photographs. My back arches as his lips trail down my neck, his beard tickling my sensitive skin.
"Can I?" His hands hover at the hem of the flannel shirt that I'm wearing.Hisflannel shirt.
I lift my arms. "Please."
He tugs it over my head, leaving me bare except for the boxers. His eyes darken as they roam over me, making me feel beautiful rather than exposed.
"Look at you. So fucking perfect."
His hands cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples. I gasp, my head falling back against the wall. When his mouth replaces his hands, I thread my fingers through his hair, holding him to me.
"Wyatt, please, I need?—"
"Tell me," he says against my skin. "Tell me what you need."
"You. Inside me. Now."
He groans, fumbling with his belt. I help him push his jeans down, my eyes widening at the sight of him. Big does not do it justice. It won't fit. He notices my expression and pauses.
"We don't have to?—"
"No, I want to," I say. "I want you."
His eyes search mine for any hesitation, then presses me back against the wall. With one arm supporting me completely, he uses his free hand to push the boxers aside.
"You're so wet," he says, his voice strained as he runs his fingers through my folds. "Is this all for me?"
I nod frantically, beyond words.
"I need to hear you say it, baby."
"Yes, Wyatt. All for you."
Wyatt positions himself at my entrance, eyes locked on mine. "Tell me if anything hurts or feels wrong."
I nod again, my heart pounding with anticipation.
