I take another small step out into the cool air. If I don’t keep backing up, I’ll start sprinting forward. “Well, I can’t because?—”
And that’s where I stop. Physically and mentally.
I stop and stare at him as my mind struggles to find reasons why it would be a bad idea to let Wyatt help me through my heat.
We’ve already admitted feelings for each other.
There’s been no sign of Derek, so he must have left once he figured out that he would have to go through four alphas to get to me. Derek is a big guy. He was a quarterback in high school, and sure, he might want revenge, but he’s not stupid enough to think he can go toe to toe with four alphas and hope to come out on top.
“Maisie?” Wyatt asks quietly. “Would it be so bad for us to do those things?”
I don’t have an answer for him because there isn't one.
I look at him, and I just know sex would be amazing. Bites are fine, and as long as he sticks to nips and not a full-on claiming bite, there wouldn’t be a permanent bond tying us together. But even if he gave me a claiming bite, would that be such a bad thing?
Haven’t I wanted Wyatt since the first time he walked into the diner?
Would it be the worst thing in the world to be tied to a man who has taken care of me and protected me better than anyone ever has?
I could continue taking heat suppressant pills, but there’s no need to.
No reason to back away from Wyatt and every reason to walk forward instead.
Chapter 19
Maisie
Wyatt closes the distance between us when I’m one step away from him.
He’s breathing hard, his eyes tortured as he clasps my wrists and pulls me closer, the breath hissing from his throat as my breasts collide with his chest.
It feels good.Toogood.
His eyes briefly close, face taut as he releases a breath in a long exhalation. He switches our positions, walking me deeper into his workshop. “I’m not sure how gentle I can be, darlin’,” he warns.
I tilt my head up. “So don’t be gentle.”
He swallows, and I track the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. “Not. Helping,” he grinds out between gritted teeth.
Needing more contact, I rise to my tiptoes, sit on the edge of his table and spread my thighs for him. His hips move forward automatically. His eyes flash open, a groan rumbling from his throat as his cock bumps my pussy.
My heart slams against my chest. My skin is hot, almost sweating. I’m burning up, but it has nothing to do with the heat of the room.
With his hands on my hips, he stares down at me. I feel him fighting to control himself. That isn’t what I want.
“You’re not fucking me,” I remind him. “Or biting me.”
His eyes flash, and I’m flat on my back a split second later. Frantically, his hands push up my shirt, bunching it above my breasts, and his mouth captures my nipple.
He sucks hard, pleasure exploding in my mind at the intense suction from his hot, rough mouth.
My back arches, and I tangle my fingers in his hair to keep his mouth on me.
Lifting his head, he moves to my left breast, sucking and nipping, soothing each sting from the graze of his teeth with hungry licks.
He pushes my shirt up over my head and drags my shorts—and panties—down my legs. By the time my clothes hit the floor, he’s pushing my thighs up and putting his mouth on me.
“Wyatt!” My thoughts scatter and my eyes slam shut.
