He squeezes my hands gently, and his gaze is steady and sincere. “Because I’ve learned from my mistakes. And because I’m not letting you go again. Not this time.”
I search his eyes, looking for any sign of doubt, but all I see is truth and a vulnerability I’ve never seen in him before. Maybe, just maybe, this time can be different. And maybe, just maybe, I can let myself believe that, too.
“Blair, I don’t want to be friends.”
I nod because I’m not sure any sound would come out if I were to try to speak. My heart is racing, and I know I should insist he go home.
But I don’t want to.
Wyatt brushes my lips with his, barely touching them, and slides his tongue over my lips and into my mouth. Our tongues twirl as his hands find my waist and gently pull me closer to him. He runs them over my hips and finds the slit in my skirt, giving him access to my upper thigh. Then his thumb grazes the inside of my thigh, gently teasing the possibilities.
“We’re not friends,” I say, more as a fact than a question.
“No.”
I push into his lips more urgently, and he pulls me over to the couch, where he sits and positions me on top of him so I’m straddling his legs. The only thing between us is the strip of lace I have on and the thin fabric of his slacks. I can feel how much he wants me.
As I unbutton his shirt, his lips and tongue caress my neck and shoulder. His body is intoxicating. He’s athletic and masculine, with hard edges and ridges outlining his abs. I flatten my hand against his stomach and take my time, rubbing up his chest to peel off his shirt.
“Your body is incredible.” I’ve missed it.
He digs his hands into my backside, giving my ass a squeeze before he runs them up my back, finds the top of my zipper, and slowly drags it down. His breath catches, and his eyes gleam with desire when he sees I’m not wearing a bra.
“So is yours.”
His hands drop to my thighs, and his fingers tickle me as he glides them closer to my center. He presses his lips against my collarbone, dragging his tongue across my chest just above my breasts. Then he kisses me right over my heart. It’s something he started doing when we became more than friends.
It’s an intimate gesture. A message that he owns it.
It gives me the courage to let go and trust him.
I move my hands down to the top of his pants, resting my fingers inside the front waistband. As soon as I do, he lifts me off the couch.
“Bedroom,” he commands.
“Down the hall, last door on the right.”
My legs wrap around his waist as he carries me to my bed, and then I’m on my back while he settles in between my legs, spreading them wide.
I stop breathing for a minute as warmth floods me.
“Blair, if you don’t want this, please tell me now.”
Wyatt holds eye contact with me as he gently pulls the delicate fabric of my dress over my hips, down my legs and lets it fall to the floor. Then he sits back on his knees, eyes roaming over my body as he waits for me to respond.
“You are so beautiful,” he tells me.
I want this. I’ve wanted this for years. I hesitate because there’s no turning back. Once we cross this line, I won’t be able to be just friends. He dips his head down to kiss my upper thigh and then moves up slowly. I feel his tongue lick up the seam of my panties.
“Wyatt,” I whisper.
“I love hearing my name on your lips. It’s the only thing I want to hear from you as you shatter around me.”
He crawls up my body to put his mouth on mine, and a soft moan escapes my lips. Then his hand dips into my panties, and his fingers slide down and slip inside me. He was always so good with his hands. I respond by pressing my hips up, asking for more.
I can feel Wyatt’s smile on my lips and then he kisses down my body again. He grabs the sides of my panties and pulls them down over my thighs and off my legs.
“Open wide for me. Let me see that beautiful pussy.”
