I threw a pillow. He dodged it, the infuriating man, and I muttered something unladylike as I slipped the dress on.
I was at the bathroom mirror putting on mascara when there was a shift in the air. A second later, Wyatt was there. His warmth at my back, the low rumble of his breath brushing my shoulder.
Then his hands were on me.
Big. Warm. Possessive.
His palms slid over my hips first, shaping me like he owned the map of my body, thumbs sweeping up my waist before gliding higher—over my ribs, then cupping my breasts through the thin cotton. I sucked in a breath, mascara wand dipping dangerously.
“Wyatt…”
He hummed against my neck, the vibration sinking straight through me. “Darlin’, you walk around the house I built you lookin’ like that and expect me to behave?”
His jeans—specifically the very hard part of his jeans—pressed into my backside, leaving no confusion about exactly how much he appreciated the dress.
“Think again.”
My knees went weak. “We are going to be late.”
“Don’t care.” His mouth brushed that sweet spot beneath my ear, sending a bolt of heat straight down my spine. “Not wastin’ a single minute I could have you like this.”
His hands slid lower again, gripping, guiding, pulling me back against him as his breath turned rough. When his fingers laced with mine on the counter, pinning them gently but firmly, I melted.
“Ivy,” he growled, voice low, reverent, wrecked, “I love you. You hear me? I love you, and there ain’t a force on this earth strong enough to keep me from showin’ you exactly what you mean to me.”
The last thing I saw was the blue sundress in the mirror and the wild look in his eyes, and then his hand was in my hair, angling my head to the side. His mouth landed on mine hard, possessive, purely male.
And when he pulled back, eyes nearly black with want, and whispered, “Lift your dress up,” I listened.
Fabric bunched around my waist, Wyatt peered down at my ass, his calloused hands rough against my skin. I was panting by the time he reached for my panties and pulled them to the side, trembling at the slow pull of his zipper, and close to begging when he notched himself at my entrance.
“Look at me, darlin’,” he ordered, voice rough like the gravel lining our driveway.
My eyes met his in the mirror, and the sight of him stole my breath. He looked like a god behind me, looming over me like I was his to command. Powerful and beautiful and mine.
“Please,” I whispered, voice trembling with need. “Please, baby.”
My jaw dropped with a low moan as he slid inside. The force of him rocked me forward, my hair swaying against my shoulders with each thrust.
That was until he gathered it up, wrapped it around his fist, and yanked me back until I was upright. “Said look at me,” he growled low in my ear.
I forced my eyes to stay open, lost in the way his body moved behind mine in the mirror. We looked perfect together. Meant to be. His other hand slid around my waist, holding me to him.
He let my hair go, and his hand slipped beneath the neckline of my dress to palm my breast. “Oh God,” I whimpered when he tweaked my nipple.
“God’s not makin’ you feel this, Ivygirl, I am.” He punctuated the last two words with a thrust that rocked me up onto my toes and made me feel like I was floating.
“Yeah,” I nodded in a blissed-out daze. Heat coiled low in my belly, and I grabbed Wyatt’s hand that was secure on my waist,needing something to hold onto. “You’re gonna make me come, too.”
His grip tightened on my waist, his thrusts becoming erratic. “Let me see it,” he said, breath hot on my ear. “Let me see how good I make you feel.”
And when I fell apart, he followed right after. Our eyes locked the whole time. And I knew then I was a fool for ever thinking I could find this kind of connection with anyone else. That I could love anyone the way I loved him.
After—hair mussed, mascara barely salvaged, dress considerably wrinkled—I tried to fix my lipstick while he buttoned his shirt behind me.
“We’re late,” I said, breath still unsteady.
He stepped up behind me again, kissed the top of my shoulder, and murmured against my skin, “Best reason to be late I’ve ever had.”
