“Probably should stay put for a few more minutes. Make sure he’s not coming back out.” His thumb is stroking circles on my stomach.
“Good thinking.” My voice comes out breathier than intended.
But staying put means staying pressed together in the dark barn, and I’m becoming increasingly aware of everything—how good Wyatt smells, how solid he feels, how his breathing has gotten rougher, how his arousal is pressing insistently against me.
“You okay?” he asks quietly, his voice rough.
“Yeah. You?”
“Fine.” But his voice suggests he’s anything but fine.
“Your toolbox is digging into my side.”
“Sorry.” He shifts position, which somehow brings us even closer together. Now I can feel every hard plane of his body, and the thin fabric of my pajamas might as well not exist. “Better?”
“Yeah.” The word comes out as more of a moan.
We should move apart now. Dad’s inside, the crisis is over, there’s no reason to stay huddled together in the dark.
But neither of us moves.
“Callie,” Wyatt says, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah?”
“We should probably talk about what happened out there.”
“You mean the kiss?” I turn my head slightly, and his lips are right there, close enough to feel his breath.
“Yeah. The kiss.”
“What about it?”
“It was a mistake.” But his hand is sliding under the hem of my top, his fingers hot against my bare skin.
“Right. A mistake.” I arch slightly into his touch.
“Something that shouldn’t happen again.” His mouth finds my neck, lips barely grazing the sensitive skin.
“Definitely not.” I tilt my head to give him better access.
“We agreed to stay away from each other.” His teeth graze my pulse point, and I have to bite back a moan.
“We did.”
“This is the opposite of staying away.” His hand slides higher under my shirt, his thumb brushing the underside of my breast.
“I noticed.”
“We should stop.” But he’s pressing harder against me, and I can feel how much he doesn’t want to stop.
“We should.” I rock back against him deliberately this time, and his groan vibrates through my entire body.
“Callie—” My name comes out as almost a growl.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” I challenge, grinding against him again.
“I can’t.”
