My brows pinch in confusion, but before I can do anything, his hand slips beneath my shirt, sliding upward slowly.
Wyatt lifts a knowing brow, tone lowering. “Not until I’ve unraveled you first.”
Another rush of excitement shoots through me, not willing to complain, thanks to the prospect.
The second his fingers brush against my breasts, sliding beneath my bralette, my breath catches. He notices, then carefully rolls my nipple until it peaks. He hums. “I’ll start with this.”
A small, defiant part of me doesn’t want to give in or admit any kind of defeat, but the sparks of pleasure running through me are enough to make me falter. I shiver faintly, leaning in to kiss him.
But Wyatt dodges it, instead leaving a trail of chaste kisses across my jaw and down my neck. He thumbs against my skin and chuckles at the way I scoff.
“Are you being a brat, Elena?” He asks against my neck.
“No,” I mumble, feeling as my lips pull in a dejected pout, just enough to make my displeasure obvious.
Wyatt nips at my pulse, eliciting a quiet gasp from me. He gently brushes his tongue over the spot, then gives my breast a teasing squeeze. “You sound bratty to me.”
I pull back at that, narrowing my eyes at him. “You’re teasing me on purpose.”
“I am,” he says with a rare grin, letting his opposite hand slide further up my shirt, caressing my waist. “Because you can’t always get what you want.”
“And what if it’s what you want too?”
“Oh, it definitely is. But that’s different,” he muses, withdrawing his fingers from my bralette before sliding further down. He watches my every reaction closely, still satisfied with himself as he creeps closer to my waistband. “Because this is about you, not me.”
A protest sits on the end of my tongue, but the second I feel him brushing against my lower stomach, it dies. I’m too focused on him and how near he is to what I want most.
Wyatt’s gaze doesn’t leave mine all the while he grips my waistband and slowly, deliberately pulls it down just enough to expose the lace underneath. As his eyes flick down, the twitch ofhis need against the back of my thigh doesn’t escape me. They darken at once, filled with unmistakable hunger.
Despite looking prepared to take what he wants, Wyatt hesitates. He keeps his hands on my hips, close, but not close enough, like he’s internally arguing with himself.
It’s tantalizing, but I need more. Far more.
“If this is about me, then give me what I want.”
At that, Wyatt doesn’t wait.
He pulls me closer while he dips his hand to the apex of my thighs, applying just enough pressure for me to feel him. At the same time, his lips find mine again, urgently despite how gentle his touch is.
With the first slow circle of his fingers against my heat through the fabric, my breath catches before I let go of a needy sound against his lips. At that, he hums and kisses me deeper. When he slides low enough to be greeted by my dampness, I feel as if something shifts in him.
Wyatt groans and lightly shifts the material aside before rubbing against me directly, making me cling to him more.
“Christ, Elena…” he utters in between kisses, lightly prodding against me before teasing my entrance. “Apparently, you like being denied.”
I want to argue, but when I feel his fingers carefully pressing deeper, my back arches just enough to give away how badly I want this.
I can’t deny it. Not when my body is nearly shaking for him.
“Please…” I murmur breathlessly against his mouth. “Please, don’t tease me.”
For a beat, Wyatt seems to struggle between the need to make me suffer just a little and the way my words sway him.
Then, a low sound slips from him, and he eases two fingers inside me.
The rush of heat and pleasure makes me moan, lashes fluttering closed.
Wyatt tenses slightly at the way I lean into him, forehead dropping to his shoulder, but I know it’s from his restraint crumbling more than anything else.
