Page 38 of After the Fall

I beat my hands against his shoulder blades. “You have… to wait… until the gala,” I said between breaths.

“Maybe I just want to rip it off you,” he grinned playfully.

“There’s no way you’re getting your hands on that gown,” I laughed. “Now put me down.” I continued pounding against his shoulder blades.

“Your wish is my command.” As he lowered me onto the comforter, all thoughts of tulips and secret messages disappeared, replaced by the deep desire I felt for the man I loved. I didn’t know it was possible to feel that way about someone, but the desire I felt for him transcended what I thought it would feel like to fall in love. It transcended the hearts and flowers I’d always read about. It was a primal, visceral hunger; a storm brewing within me, aching for release.

It was as if Wyatt had awakened me after years of slumber. I’d wasted so much time hiding in my books, and working two jobs to make ends meet. And now? Now I was finally living.

The bed sunk beneath me as Wyatt lay down next to me, but before our bodies came together, his face softened. The telltale crease appeared between his eyebrows, alerting me that something was wrong. I cupped my hand to his cheek. “What is it?”

He sighed wearily into my palm. “We’re going to have visitors.”

NINETEEN

WYATT

“Visitors?”Her eyes widened. “What kind of visitors?”

Her body was stiff like a board in my arms. I could tell that she knew the news I was about to give her wasn’t good.

As I rubbed her bare arm, my hands were met with goosebumps and I pulled the comforter over her shoulder. “Things seem to be progressing here and I need some backup.”

She snuggled into my chest, her lips against my bare skin. “Progressing? Backup?”

“Yeah.” It was the best I could come up with.

We were lying on our sides, our bodies facing, her arm draped over my side and mine rested on top of hers. It was familiar, comfortable in a way that I’d never experienced. As soon as her breath heated my skin, I was rock hard, and of course I wanted to fuck her. But lying together, intertwined, was almost better.

Almost.

My cock throbbed as if to remind me that it had a say in the matter.

Harper’s voice was quiet. “The kind of visitors that make supermodels look homely?”

She knew exactly who I was talking about. But still, I furrowed my brow and played stupid. It was a smart move. “What are you talking about?America’s Next Top Model?”

A smile spread across her face, replacing the look of concern. “How do you even know that show?”

“It’s my job to fit in. I have to know pop culture,” I groaned. I didn’t tell her that a few of the women I’d dated in the past had been obsessed with the show – and some had even starred on it.

“When is she getting here?”

It was as though Harper didn’t want to say her name. “Valentina and the South Americans?”

“Yeah. Them.” Her brow was back to being knitted and I wished there was a way I could make it all better. Valentina had been the one to tear us apart, after all. I understood why Harper disliked the woman.

“They’re on the private jet now. Depending on conditions, they should touch down by morning.”

Harper bit her lip. “Is it okay if I avoid seeing her? I kind of…” she paused. “Hate her.”

I laughed, then immediately felt bad. “Sorry. It’s not a laughing matter. I hate her too. It’s just… I’ve never heard you be so blunt like that before. It’s kind of turning me on.” I crooked my arms so I could hold her by her wrist and guide her palm to my cock.

“Mr. Westwood,” she purred softly, her voice low and sultry. “You seem to have something in your pants.”

She squeezed my cock and a guttural moan escaped my throat. I gulped. “Did you think I was joking?”

“No, Sir. I don’t think you would ever joke about hiding a hammer in your pants.” She giggled as she stroked my shaft. I hated wearing underwear, so her fingertips met with the soft skin of rock hard hammer.

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