"I'm not a child."
"I didn't say you were."
I point at him. "Then stop treating me like one."
"I'm not."
I scoff. "You are. I'm on the pill. Unless you have something I need to worry about catching, we don't have to use a condom."
Tense silence brews between us.
I put my hand over his, softening my tone. "Wyatt, do you want me or not?"
He groans. "You know I'm dying to have you, sugar."
"Then don't treat me like a child," I say, then add, "And don't treat me like a fragile virgin."
His lips twitch. "Fragile virgin?"
I nod. "Yeah. Don't pretend to be someone you're not."
He arches an eyebrow.
"You're sweet but arrogant. And I love that about you. So be yourself and take me how you want me."
He takes a deep breath, cocks a smile, then reaches for me, muttering, "Then get your sexy body over me like I told you to."
Relief envelops me. I giggle, sinking my knees on each side of his hips. Then I settle into his gaze, and the storm inside me resurfaces, twirling with anticipation.
He doesn't speak or move. He keeps his grip dominant around me. Every inch between us burns as he continues to showcase his discipline, making my thighs ache.
My virgin anxiety hits a high. "Wyatt?—"
"Shh," he orders, grazing his thumb over my lips and assessing me until my skin is on fire.
It feels like he looks at me forever, and tension hangs heavy in the air.
He finally breaks it, muttering, "I want a photo, Willow. Can I take one?"
I take a shaky breath. "Of me?"
He grins. "Who else would I want one of?"
Another round of nerves hits me.
"It's just for me. I'll guard it with my life," he adds.
Stop being stupid.
Wyatt wouldn't show anyone.
"I know," I say, then kiss him, and reach into his back pocket, pulling out his phone.
"Sugar, you're my dream girl," he says approvingly.
Warmth spills through me like sunshine after a storm. "I am?"
He grunts and shakes his head. "How can you question that?"
