“I want you. I want you so fucking bad, I can’t think straight.”
“You do?” I ask, and my voice comes out so pathetic, if I weren’t so shocked and elated by his words, I’d slap myself.
“Obsessed with you actually. Yeah,” he admits, gripping the back of his neck.
My heart is pounding in my ears. I feel like if I looked down I’d be able to visibly see my heart beating through my chest.
“But you said...” I start, but he cuts me off.
“I know what I said. And my reasons for trying to keep my distance are still concerns of mine. I have a child, Ivy. Are you ready for that if this gets serious? I’m terrified of getting too close. Of having my daughter get too close, just for it not to workout. I’m terrified.”
My mouth has gone dry.
“But I can’t keep my distance anymore. I can’t resist your pull anymore, Ivy. You have this fucking gravitational force that I cannot for the life of me escape. And I don’t want to. So yeah, I’ve decided. I want you. Whatever this is. Whatever you’re willing to give me, I’ll take it.”
My heart threatens to burst.
“Are you going to change your mind?” I ask quietly, hope filling my chest.
He shakes his head confidently. “No. I’m sorry I was so hot-and-cold. I just…needed time to process it,” he says, sighing through his nose.
“Process what?”
“I knew once I got you, I’d hold on for dear life,” he replies, eyes boring into me.
I let out a ragged exhale, wholly, and completely overwhelmed. He just laid all of his cards, right out on the table. I can at least do the same for him.
“I want you too,” I say with conviction, my fists still clenched at my side.
“Yeah?” His expression softens as he slowly takes one, then two, measured steps before towering over me.
I crane my neck back to meet his eye. “Yeah.”
The air in the room is crackling, like a gun waiting to go off. And after a few breaths, it does.
Wes crashes his mouth down onto mine, and consumes me. Backing me up against the counter, tongues and teeth collide. It’s messy, and unrestrained, and perfect. I grip his shirt and pull him as close to me as possible. He threads his hands in my hair and tugs at the roots, making me moan unashamedly into his mouth.
The feel of him touching me again is otherworldly.
Welsey groans low in his throat, then picks me up under my thighs and sets me down on the bathroom counter. He runs his big warm palms up my thighs, making me shiver.
“These fucking legs,” he growls.
He continues his exploration, and trails his hands up to my hips, then to my ribcage where he squeezes me roughly.
“This fucking dress.”
He leans down and lightly bites my ear, sending tingles down my spine.
“You know how much I’ve dreamed about this?” he asks, still running his hands all over my abdomen, cupping my breasts, then trailing back down to my upper thighs.
He slides underneath my dress until he finds the hem of my lace thong, toying with it. “Every day since the hotel. Every fucking day, I’ve fucked my hand, and imagined it was your sweet, tight, little pussy.”
Oh my god.
“Wesley. Please,” I beg, pulling him closer and starting to squirm, searching for any sort of relief.
He straightens and looks down at me, eyes flared. “What do you need?” he asks roughly, grabbing the top of my underwear, and pulling the lace fabric up my pussy and against my clit.
