My forehead creases. “Who? Wyatt?”
“Oh yeah. That boy has it bad.”
A laugh pops out of my mouth. “Trust me, he doesn’t.”
“Trust me,” she mimics. “He was sneaking looks at you all day. Very unplatonic looks, I might add. He’s into you. But sure, keep denying it. Anyway.” Annaliese flashes an earnest smile. “I loved chilling with you today. Next time we’ll go out just you and me, yeah? The boys are leaving on Monday.”
“Sounds good.”
I lock up after her and watch as the small group heads down to the pier, where their boat is docked. Annaliese only had one drink this entire day, so I trust her to get the three drunks home safely.
Even though it’s one a.m. and it could probably wait till morning, I finish gathering the empties and put them in the bin under the sink because I’m a little neurotic when it comes to cleaning. Then I notice the table looks sticky, and so does the counter, and… Fine, I might be a little more thana littleneurotic. I spend the next fifteen minutes sweeping up the broken picture frame and wiping down every surface on the main floor before finally trudging up the stairs.
Getting to the yellow room requires passing the blue room, and I hesitate in front of Wyatt’s door. Then I knock.
“Yeah,” he says. It’s not exactly acome in, but it’s not ago away.
I open the door and peek in. He’s standing at the dormer window,his gaze fixed on the lake, but he turns around when I enter.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine. He didn’t do anything.”
“He touched you without your permission.”
“And you took care of it. Although choking him was a bit extreme.”
That gets me a crooked smile. “I wasn’t choking him. He could’ve gotten out of that hold if he really tried.”
I toy with the edge of my braid, and those heavy-lidded eyes fixate onmenow. Following the small motions of my hand as I twist the braid. Unlike Annaliese, I did have more than one drink. At least three LMDs. And I feel it in my blood, in the way my body heats under Wyatt’s thorough scrutiny.
“Can I do something?” His voice is soft and seductive.
My pulse races. “Do what?”
He slowly closes the distance between us, his bare chest gleaming in the darkness. I don’t know why he doesn’t have the light on. The moonlight is the only thing illuminating the bedroom, casting shadows over his chiseled features.
He’s into you.
I suddenly hear Annaliese’s voice in my head, insisting that Wyatt has it bad for me. But if he does, he would just make a move. Wyatt’s not shy. He doesn’t play coy. I’ve seen him flash that careless smile dozens of times to get a woman into bed.
When he reaches for my braid, his fingers brush mine, and an electric shock travels through me.
“Can I just…undo this?”
The braid, I realize. He means my braid. It’s suddenly hard to breathe. I manage to swallow. “Sure?”
Oh God. Maybe this is the move.
Is he making a move?
Time stands still. I don’t know what’s happening, and the not knowing only adds to the thrill. To the danger. I’m standing in Wyatt Graham’s bedroom while his long fingers pull the elastic off and begin to untwine my plaited hair. When those fingers thread through my hair, tugging lightly, a shiver skitters down my spine. I can breathe again, but it’s shallow. Strained. The spot between my legs tingles wildly. This is turning me on. He’s not even doing anything sexual, and I’m turned on.
He remains focused on my face, but I don’t know if he’s actually seeing me. It’s that faraway gleam Wyatt gets sometimes, like he’s caught a glimpse of something godly and mysterious that we mere mortals can never tap into.
Finally, my hair is loose. He captures the long strands in his fist and gently moves it aside so it’s cascading over one shoulder.
The silence stretches between us like a live wire.
