A slow, fluttery warmth blooms in my chest. My smile explodes so big, it hurts. I don't think before I reply, "Now that you have me all to yourself, what will you do with me?"
Wyatt's surprise lights up his eyes, and his lips curve at the corners.
I'm mortified.
Did I just say that?
He takes his pointer finger, slowly slides it over my forehead and down my cheek, then pins a rogue wisp of hair behind my ear.
Tingles explode in the wake of his touch, and I gasp.
His challenging gaze turns lethal, filled with heat and possession and all the knowledge about things I've only fantasized about doing with him. He taunts, "That's a loaded question, Willow Cartwright."
My insides quiver, and I demand in a velvety rasp, "Tell me."
His lips twitch. His gaze roams over me again before landing on my mouth. He nonchalantly states, "Maybe instead of telling you, I should show you."
My mouth waters. Finding my courage, I step closer, and flirtatiously say, "Maybe you should."
Surprise and amusement are written all over his face.
I blurt out, "I'm not a child, Wyatt."
His expression sobers. He doesn't speak.
"I'm not," I insist.
"Trust me, sugar, I know you aren't," he replies in a haunted tone, continuing to stare at me.
I wait him out, my mind screaming for me to kiss him if he doesn't kiss me. Instead, in a cracked voice, I say, "I thought you liked me."
He scoffs. "You have no idea."
"Then what's the problem?" I ask, ready to crawl into the loft and never come down if he doesn't touch me soon.
He drags his knuckles over my jaw.
My breath hitches.
"If I kiss you, then I'm going to want more." His voice is like molasses slowly poured over gravel. It's thick and rough around the edges in all the right ways.
An ache so deep I don't know where it came from throbs between my thighs. Then he strips me bare with nothing but syllables.
"Hell, I already do want more, and I haven't even tasted your lips yet."
I swallow hard, square my shoulders, and lift my chin. I order, "Then kiss me."
He blinks a few times, like he's coming out of a deep sleep.
"Wyatt—"
He puts his fingers over my mouth.
My heart slams against my rib cage. My lips tremble against his warm skin. The scent of him flares hotter.
He closes the space between us, stating, "There's no going back once we cross the line."
My insides quiver harder, full of an electrical current buzzing more intensely every second.
