TWENTY-FIVE
Wyatt propped his head on his hand, staring down at a vision he didn’t think he’d ever get the pleasure of seeing. He glanced at the clock. Six A.M.
She was still here. Kelsey had made it the whole night without sneaking off to the couch. Warmth moved up through his chest, lifting a smile on his lips. He brushed a lock of her hair off her cheek, fanning it across the pillow with the rest of her blonde mane. She was beautiful always, but never had he been so taken with anyone as when she had stood on that stage last night, her chin tipped upward as she’d chosen her charity. She’d silenced a whole room of backbiters, making them look like assholes in the classiest way possible.
Afterward, others had come up to them, apologized for assuming things, had asked Kelsey questions. She’d answered some, politely deflected others. Some partygoers had still ignored them, but that was fine by Wyatt. It showed him exactly the kind of people they were. What mattered to him most was that Kelsey had held her head high and hadn’t shown any fear or shame. His girl had balls. He’d never been more proud to be by someone’s side in his life.
And in that moment, he’d finally accepted one simple fact he’d been fighting since the first time he touched her. He’d fallen for her. Hard and fast and without doubt.
It scared the ever-loving shit out of him.
It was exactly what he told her wouldn’t happen.
She was still young.
Still sweet.
It was even messier than he imagined.
But that didn’t make it any less true.
Now he was stuck with having no idea what to do with all this . . . love.
Kelsey moaned in her sleep, a low, sexy sound that had his body rousing to attention. He moved his hand away from her hair.
“Wyatt,” she murmured, a begging note in her tone, but her eyes still closed with slumber. “Yes. Please. I need you . . .”
She shifted beneath the thin sheet, and Wyatt watched in rapt awe as her hand slid down her belly, over her navel, down down down . . .
Oh, blessed blessed Lord. He must’ve done something really good in a former life.
* * *
Kelsey blinked in the gauzy pink light, her brain still hovering in that space between sleep and consciousness. Warmth enveloped her body, and she snuggled deeper into it, hoping to fall back into the erotic dream she’d been having. She’d been on a ship, held captive by a dark-haired pirate with a surprising Southern accent. He’d tied her to the plank instead of making her walk it and had gone about torturing her with his talented tongue and long fingers, making her come over and over again while the waves crashed against the side of the ship beneath her.
But before she could slip back into dreamland, a hand drifted along her stomach and nudged between her legs. She gasped softly as the fingers moved along her arousal-slicked skin. God, how was she so wet?
“Mmm, now that’s the best early morning wake-up call I could imagine,” Wyatt murmured, his voice clogged with sleep and sexy as shit. “Erotic moans and you already warm and wet. Must’ve been some dream.”
Her eyes fluttered open to find the wispy curtains of their cabana blowing gently along the open windows. The barest amount of pre-dawn light filtered in, reminding her where she was. Not her apartment. Not alone. But on an island with her real-life pirate spooning and stroking her. And she hadn’t woken up all night. She hadn’t snuck out of bed. Her heartbeat ticked up a notch. “A great dream.”
“Tell me about it.”
She smiled, even though he couldn’t see her. “It was just my normal hot dreams about the starting lineup of the Cowboys.”
“Damn. Guess I’m going to have to work extra hard to get your mind off a whole team then,” he said, sliding his fingers along her already throbbing clit, coaxing a moan from her.
She arched into his touch, nestling her ass against him, his hard length already like steel between them. “They’ve got nothing on you, sir.”
He groaned and grabbed the underside of her knee, drawing her top leg into her chest and opening her to him. “You calling me that does it to me every fucking time, love. And all those sounds you were just making in your sleep. Fuck. I’ve been hard as stone for twenty minutes, but I couldn’t stop listening to you, watching you.” He cupped her breast, giving her nipple a soft tug. “Do you know you touch yourself in your sleep?”
She let out a soft puff of breath as the tug became more of a delicious pinch. “No.”
“Or that you called my name? Begging me to make you come?” He ran his tongue over the shell of her ear. “You sounded so desperate, love, like you hadn’t been touched in eons.”
Her cheeks turned pink at that. Even after all the time together, she hadn’t gotten enough of him. She’d searched him out in her sleep as well. “I’ve never been good with moderation, sir. When I like something, I want it all the time.”
“Mmm,” he murmured, giving her shoulder a soft bite. “This is an addiction I’ll gladly endorse. Especially when I share the same one.”
Without another word, he shifted his position, and braced a hand on the bottom of her thigh, holding it toward her chest. Then he was pushing inside her, her body offering no resistance. She moaned at the sudden feeling of fullness, at how hot he felt inside her.
“You feel so fucking amazing,” he ground out, his hips rocking forward and burying deep. “Like cashmere against me, love.”
His name fell past her lips, a sort of protest with no spine behind it. She’d had something to say, but when he moved his hand around the backside of her thigh, finding her swollen nub, she couldn’t grab onto the fleeting thought.
He teased her clit with skillful fingers and fucked her with long, lazy strokes. Every fiber in her being seemed to wake up. Like water coming to a boil and bubbles popping at the surface. Bubbles of want, ache, desperation. She squirmed against him, trying to encourage him to take her hard, to charge toward the top of the hill.
“No, love,” he admonished. “Not this time. I want to fuck you slow, want to feel every little clench of your pussy around me.”
Her sex did exactly that at his words, his voice alone able to trigger seemingly involuntary responses.
“Watch the window. I promise you, you’ll get what you want by the time the sun comes up.”
The sun? He was going to make her wait . . . He gave her clit a quick flick, and she let out a little cry, a knot of bliss hovering just out of her reach, so ready to unravel. But he seemed to know exactly how far he could take her without going over. He went back to the soft strokes, his cock still sliding in and out with that deliciously tortuous pace. She shuddered against him, her pleasure like the tide outside—ebbing and flowing from sweetly sensual to maddeningly intense moment to moment.
And for some reason that combination had her chest tightening and inexplicable tears threatening. This wasn’t like anything she’d ever experienced. It wasn’t fucking. This was . . . romantic. It felt like what she’d imagined making love to be. And the realization had her thoughts twisting and curving, colliding, and confusing her. “Wyatt.”
But he didn’t respond. His hair tickled her as he kissed along the back of her shoulder, sucked at her neck, murmured things to her about how beautiful she was, how sexy, how perfect. And she couldn’t muster up the will to make him stop. She wanted this. Wanted to get lost in him. In the fantasy.
By the time the sun cut golden beams across the wood floors, Kelsey was pleading in soft words. Wyatt had flipped her onto her back and was braced above her now, his eyes burning into hers as he moved inside her. Every inch of her begged for release. The hard points of her nipples he’d sucked and licked throbbed. Her thighs quivered. And her pussy gripped him with every thrust as if trying to coax out his release before he was ready.
“Tell me what you want, love,” he said, his tone tender but his gaze intense, seeking.
He’d asked her this before, and she’d given him the dirty answer. But this time she could only manage the stark, terrifying truth. “I want you.”
He smiled then, a slow, curling thing that seemed to shine light on dark places inside her and he dropped to his elbows, taking her mouth in a fevered kiss. She reached up, gliding her fingers through his hair, and opening to him. His tongue stroked hers in time to his rocking hips, devouring her and any thoughts she’d been hanging onto. He was inside her—in her body, in her mouth, and in her head. She was consumed. Soaring.
Her nails dug into Wyatt’s shoulders and he groaned into their kiss, his muscles going taut as her own orgasm slammed into her. She held on to him, her body almost convulsing with the sheer force of it all. She broke off the kiss with a sharp cry, but right as she sucked in a breath, his lips were back on her. His mouth making love to her as much as any other part of him.
Her orgasm wouldn’t relent, as if it wanted to get its money’s worth after the long buildup. She arched against him, riding the pulsing pleasure and dragging him to his own edge. Finally, he quivered against her, biting her lip, and falling into his own release. He pumped inside her with forceful, moaning thrusts, all that measured self-control melting away.
He was so beautiful like that—a wild, masculine animal, the man behind the polish. She loved his quiet side, the person he was in the world. But this was a sight that yanked the breath from her chest. Suddenly, she felt a ridiculous surge of jealousy toward anyone who had ever seen him this way.
Wyatt stilled inside her and opened his eyes, his brows lowering briefly at her expression. “You okay?”
She smiled. “I’d say so.”
“Mmm.” After one last lingering kiss, Wyatt slipped out of her and rolled to the side, his flat belly rising and falling with fading exertion. “Good morning.”
“Helluva wakeup call.”
“I’d say. You sure you’re okay? You looked a little mad just now.” He shifted onto his side, propping on his elbow and peering over at her.
She would’ve blushed if her face wasn’t already hot from orgasm. “You’re too observant, Mr. Austin. I was just having a girl moment.”
He smirked. “Oh, do tell.”
She sighed. How much should she reveal? She didn’t want him to think she was getting all possessive on him, but he’d see through bullshit if she tried. “I had a passing moment of jealousy toward all the other women who’ve seen you like this. A brief hormonal brain fart.”
He laughed and reached out to brush her hair away from her forehead. “No need to be jealous, love. Not many have seen me like this.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, okay. And I lost my virginity last week.”
“No,” he said, tapping a finger under her chin. “I mean, like this.”
She rolled to her side to face him, but before she could ask him what he meant, a trickle of warm fluid slid over her thigh. A rush of anxiety went through her. “Oh, shit.”
He frowned. “What’s wrong?”
She swallowed hard, stealing herself for his reaction. When they’d discussed limits, she’d seen his expression at the thought of unprotected sex with her. And who could blame him? An unplanned pregnancy with someone like him could get a girl a big pile of cash. “We didn’t use a condom. Wyatt, I’m sorry, I didn’t think of it. And then everything was feeling so good, I kind of forgot. But I promise I’m on the pill and you’ve seen my medi—”
“Shh,” he said, brushing a thumb over her lip and catching a drop of blood there from his earlier bite. “I wanted you without any barriers this morning. And you told me you were protected from pregnancy. I trust you.”
His expression was so open, so relaxed and accepting that panic mainlined right through her veins. “Wyatt, what are you doing?”
“What?”
But she’d already seen the shift in him yesterday, the way he’d talked to her, held her. Tender. Caring. She’d thought it’d been part of the whole crazy day, an aftereffect of all that stress. And she could handle a lot. There wasn’t much he could do to her physically that she couldn’t deal with. But this—this could annihilate her.
She sat up, hugging a pillow to her chest. “Don’t do that. Don’t look at me like I mean something to you.”
He pushed himself upward, turning toward her on the bed. “What the fuck are you talking about? Of course you mean something to me. You think I’m putting on a goddamned song and dance show for you? Why do you think I asked for more time with you yesterday?”
“A month, Wyatt. Don’t give me the forever eyes.”
“Kelsey—”
“Don’t,” she repeated. Her throat went tight, and she wished he wasn’t so close. She couldn’t think with him staring at her with those naked blue eyes. “That’s not what this is. It’s not what it’s supposed to be. No romance, Wyatt. No sweet pillow talk.”
“I love you.”
“What?” The trap door fell right out from beneath her. She pulled her knees to her chest and pressed her forehead to the top of them, barely resisting covering her ears. No. No. No. “Don’t do this, Wyatt. Please. I can’t—”
He sighed. “You can’t, what? Handle it? Love me back? Deal?”
“You don’t love me. Don’t say that.”
“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t feel, Kelsey,” he said, anger leaking into his tone as he reached over and grabbed for the robe he’d hung on the bedpost. “Believe me. This wasn’t my plan either. But I’m not going to sit hear and lie about how I feel.”
“Love? That’s bullshit and you know it. You barely know me. Yes, this week has been fun and I enjoy being with you. But we can’t do this for real.”
“Why the hell not?”
She looked at him, disbelief coursing through her. “You want to go through what we did last night every time you take me somewhere? Get those looks? I will never fit into this world. And even if you don’t see it yet, I’m just a shiny, new toy for you—something different and exciting. As soon as the novelty wears off, I’ll be the next Gwen. Only with a nice check in the bank so you don’t have to feel so guilty.”
A thundercloud crossed over his expression. “So this is what you’re going to do, Kelsey? This is your life plan—push away anyone who could care about you so you can’t ever get hurt?”
Her vision went blurry with tears. “You told me not to let you hurt me. You told me. This will hurt me. You said yourself you’re no good for me. I deserve better than becoming another Saturday night special. Don’t pretend that’s not what this would become.”
He scowled. “How the fuck am I supposed to know what this could become? But you’re not even willing to see where it could go? To feel whatever we feel and go from there? I care about you, dammit. Not just fucking you. Being with you. I’m old enough to know the difference. Are you?”
“I guess not.” She laced her hands behind her neck, still sitting in the fetal position, tears tracking down her cheeks. “I can’t do this.”
“You’re going to sit there and pretend you don’t feel something for me, too?”
“This is what I do, Wyatt,” she said, lifting her head and meeting his eyes, her heart splintering at his guarded expression. “I fall too fast. It doesn’t matter what I feel for you. Every time I’ve trusted my heart in my life, it led to nothing good. I’m addicted to relationships. And what you’re offering me right now is the like the biggest, purest dose of heroin I could imagine.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, but didn’t reach for her. “Baby, you are not that girl anymore. Your heart wasn’t telling you lies back then, the drugs and addiction were. Look at me.”
She forced herself to meet his eyes.
“You’re telling me you felt like this with those other guys? The boy who didn’t take you to prom? The dudes who fed you pills and alcohol and pushed you on stage when you were just a fucking kid? The guy who put you on the Miller brothers’ radar?”
“Please.” She shook her head, wishing he would stop. His questions pushed at her brain, making everything scramble—her thoughts, her emotions, her fears. Of course that’s not how this felt. How she felt about Wyatt was different than . . . everything. It was too much. It was all too much. “I can’t deal with this right now.”
He jaw flexed, his teeth obviously pressed hard against each other, but he didn’t look away. “You want a drink, Kelsey?”
She inhaled a sharp breath. “What?”
“You want a drink? Simple question. There’s a whole bottle of tequila in the cabinet.” She stared at him in horror as he got up and strode over to the bar, uncapping the bottle and pouring a healthy shot. He stalked back toward the bed, the golden liquid sloshing in the high ball glass, and plunked it down on the bedside table. “Do you need salt. I’m sure we have that, too.”
“Have you lost your fucking mind?”
“Maybe.” He crossed his arms, staring down at her with ice chip eyes. “So, salt?”
“No!” She scrambled off the other side of the bed, pulling the sheet around herself and squaring off with him. “I don’t want a goddamned drink. Why the hell would I—”
He smiled. Fucking smiled.
Then she realized what he’d done.
She put her hand to her forehead, her brain feeling like it was going to explode behind her eyes. “Jesus, Wyatt.”
“Get in front of the bed,” he said simply. “On your knees.”
She blinked, her mind spinning so fast she could barely understand English, but her body complied before her executive functioning caught up. She found herself lowering to the ground without an ounce of hesitation, the sheet still tangled around her.
He stepped around the corner of the bed and sat down on the edge of it, taking her face in his hands. “It’s okay if you don’t love me back yet. It’s okay that you’re scared. But you are no longer allowed to use the excuse that you aren’t strong enough or good enough to try something with me. Because that is utter bullshit.”
Her throat went dry, her heart tattooing her ribcage. Maybe she was finally strong enough to handle emotional upheavals, but anxiety wrapped around her ribcage and squeezed. She didn’t know how to be in a real relationship without sabotaging things. Without getting needy and clingy with the guy. Without getting wild and jealous. Without losing her own way while trying to be what the guy wanted. “I don’t know how to be normal. The closer we get, the more I want to run.”
He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Then I guess I’ll have to be faster than you.”
“You deserve better than that,” she whispered.
“You’re right. I do.” His palms spanned the side of her head and he tilted her face upward. “And so do you. You want to spend your whole life running? Pushing away the good things because you’re afraid they’ll disappear?”
“They always do,” she said, the knot in her throat like a steel fist.
The sympathy that crossed his features busted something open inside her. He shouldn’t care this much. She hadn’t earned that emotion on his face, that . . . love. She didn’t even know if she was stable enough to exist on her own yet, much less as half of something else. Wyatt had already suffered through a relationship with a girl who’d used him as her emotional crutch. Kelsey refused to be that kind of albatross to anyone.
“I need to go home, Wyatt.”
“Kelsey.” His voice was a plea.
She met his eyes, letting all the emotion drain from her body until only the echo of loss pounded through her, and she said the one request she knew would do it. “I need space.”
At that, those three simple words, his gaze clouded over, his expression closing. His hands lowered to his side in defeat. “I’ll call for the boat.”