Page 14 of Rescuing the Writer

The sound of a car driving by shocked me back to reality. Anyone walking by could see us because we were right in front of the window. And hell if I was gonna give my neighbors a show. So I held on to Melbourne and rose from the couch.

He shrieked as he clung to me, wrapping his legs around my waist. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you to bed.”

6

MELBOURNE

Waylon’s arms felt like steel bands around me, his strength undeniable as he carried me down the hallway. Muscle flexed beneath my fingertips where I held on to him. Our lips never parted, a dance of passion and urgency keeping us joined as we stumbled into the bedroom and tumbled onto the bed.

“Jesus,” I gasped when we finally broke apart for air, my heart thundering as I admired the sheer physicality of the man before me. “That was so fucking hot.”

“Yeah?” But the pleased look on his face morphed into something unfamiliar—hesitation. His hands hovered above my skin as if unsure of how to proceed.

I caught his hands and guided them to my waist. “Touch me, darling. Explore away.”

He exhaled a shaky breath, and his fingers tentatively traced the contours of my body. It was endearing, this man needing guidance, so different from the self-assured deputy sheriff I’d seen in action.

“Your turn to ditch some clothes,” I said softly, a challenge lingering in my voice.

He didn’t hesitate. His shirt came off in one fluid motion, revealing the taut muscles and defined contours of his chest—a landscape carved by discipline, now laid bare for me. Blue eyes met mine, holding a glint of vulnerability that only added to his allure.

“Better?” he asked, a half-smile playing on his lips.

“Much.”

I reached out to trace the dusting of hair that led down from his navel, disappearing beneath the waistband of his shorts. Waylon shuddered under my touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before snapping back open, locking onto mine with an intensity that sent a thrill through me.

He mirrored my actions, fingers skimming along my ribs, exploring the dips and curves of my body with careful curiosity. His touch grew bolder as he mapped out the landscape of my torso, thumbs brushing over sensitive spots that made me shiver in response.

“Slow down, take your time,” I coached, my hand finding his once more, slowing his movements, not to hinder but to enhance. “Every touch is a word, Waylon. What do you want to say?”

His fingertips danced over my skin, tracing the lines of muscle and bone beneath. A lover’s touch.

“Darling…” My voice trailed off, surrendering to the low groan that escaped my lips as his fingers traced the ink on my forearms, each stroke igniting sparks beneath my skin. “Oh, that’s good.”

It was a language without words, his innate caretaker instincts now translating into the tender exploration of my flesh. His insecurities seemed to fade, replaced by building confidence that radiated from his every move.

“Let go,” I whispered against his lips, a smile curving my own as I sensed the shift in him. “Let go and feel.”

His hands roamed lower, palming my hips before slipping beneath the elastic of my shorts. The contrast of his large, callused hands against my smoother skin was electrifying, sparking a fire that began to spread throughout my entire being.

“God, Melbourne…” he whispered, his voice laced with wonder as if he were discovering something precious and uncharted.

He kissed my shoulder as if inspired by his own action, continuing to blaze a path of hot kisses down my chest and stomach. And when he reached the last bit of fabric I still wore, he nudged my hips, and I obediently lifted them. He was smart enough to slide down my shorts and underwear at the same time, revealing all of me for his perusal.

When he had me naked, he paused. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his cheeks pinking. He looked almost stunned. His hand trembled as he stretched it toward me, hovering above my cock, which lay weeping against my stomach. I held my breath.

He caressed my length with one finger, but it couldn’t have been more arousing if it had been his mouth. He was so honest, so eager, and that alone was enough to ignite me. With his hand still shaking, he became bolder, wrapping his hand around me, rubbing his thumb over my slit and then venturing lower, where he cradled my balls. I spread my legs, holding nothing back from him.

“How do you want me, darling?” Funny, but the term of endearment that had started as kind of a tease, a joke, now rolled off my lips as easily as if I’d called him that for years and years. And it felt different too.

Waylon bit his lip, but then he squared his shoulders. “Can I be inside you? I want to feel every part of you.”

He could have anything, do anything. If he asked for the world right now, I’d give it to him. I swallowed back the mushy shit on the tip of my tongue and forced myself to be lighthearted. “I’m at your disposal, darling.”

He leaned over me for a moment and opened the drawer of his nightstand, grabbing lube and a condom. I quirked an eyebrow. “You had these already?”

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