“I should take you someplace.”
I nod, barely able to breathe.
He takes my hand, drops a few bills on the table, and leads me outside. The night is warm.
His truck is parked out front, and he opens the door for me.
His fingers brush over my cheeks, and I lean into him. I should stop this. I’m leading him on.
God, I missed him. I want more. I want him to wrap me in his arms and tell me that the years apart didn’t matter. How could I react to him this way? I’m a horrible person for feeling this way.
He hops in next to me and places a hand on my thigh, and I find myself leaning on his shoulder as we drive. Oh, Wyatt, why the fuck didn’t you come back? It could have been us.
The mixture of whiskey on his breath and the scent of his cologne takes me back to the last time he made love to me. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m begging him to stop the truck.
I climb onto his lap, straddling him and crashing my lips onto his, my hands in his hair. Our kiss is desperate, hungry, and full of pent-up hurt from all the years of being apart.
He slides his hands up my thighs, holding me firmly against him, his erection pressing painfully against me. I kiss his face and neck and bite down on his skin hard.
“Hayley, if you don’t stop this, I’m going to take you right here.”
I lean back against his steering wheel and start to unbutton my shirt, slowly, my eyes never leaving his. I hold it open, and his hungry gaze falls on my breasts.
“You’re exquisite.”
He pushes aside the material of my bra, rubbing his thumbs over my nipples. A jolt of ecstasy travels straight to my core as he continues to stroke and pinch each nipple between his fingers.
He leans in and sucks one nipple into his mouth, grazing me with his teeth.
“This is going to get us in trouble,” he hisses. “I don’t want some fucker seeing this.”
He pulls my head towards him and dips his tongue into my mouth.
“Cover up!” he demands, and I moan, rubbing myself onto his hard-on.
He growls. “A little while longer, babe.”
And as if I’m splashed with ice-cold water, I realize that what I’m doing is wrong. I’m not his babe. I’m behaving like a tipsy bitch. The fact that it even got as far as it did was just inappropriate. I cover myself up.
“Please take me home,” I say in a barely audible voice.
“But you haven’t seen your surprise.”
“I can’t.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Just take me home.”
His jaw ticks, and I know he’s angry.
He does a U-turn and drives me home. He walks me to my porch, and I notice my mom left the light on. I take the step up and still. I can feel him getting closer to me; I can feel his breath at the back of my neck, and I turn.
He looks beautiful in the moonlight. Standing a step down, he’s almost at eye level, and I look into his hazel orbs and want nothing more than to go wherever he wants to take me. His kisses, his touch, the way he desires me are etched into my memory. I have to catch myself before I fall again.
“I— I love you, Wyatt. I never stopped,” I start.
He tilts his head to plant a kiss on my cheek.
