Page 68 of Smitten with the Single Dad

She removed the saucepan from the hot element. “I woke up last night after a dream. It started out the same as the real night, but it went in a very bad, very different direction. I couldn’t fight him. And yet, I still ended up killing him.” She met his gaze. “I didn’t want to kill him. And now, someone is trying to kill me.” Her throat tightened and tears stung the back of her eyes. “And someone nearly killed you. And the boys.” She gasped. “Oh, Wyatt, if something happened to either of those children … I know I haven’t known them long, but I already love them so much. I couldn’t bear the thought of either of them getting hurt because of me.”

Stepping forward, he cupped her cheek, his fingers threading into the hair behind her ear. “Vica, you are my wife, and you are safe here. I will never let anything happen to you. You have my entire family behind you. You are a McEvoy now, and McEvoys take care of their own.”

Swallowing past the harsh and spikey lump in her throat, she stared up at him in the muted kitchen light. “Nobody has had my back in a long time. I forgot what it feels like.”

His smile warmed her from the inside out. “Get used to it.” Then he moved closer until their bodies touched. Angling his head down and gently pulling hertoward him, his lips brushed hers as tears slid down her cheeks. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, they melted against each other until his arms were around her and hers were around him.

It wasn’t quick and fevered. There was no tearing of clothes. No panting, breathless frantic movements, even though her pulse beat wildly where his pinky finger rested on her neck. Every movement between them was slow and deliberate. Unhurried and passionate. Almost timid at times, the way he kissed her. Exploring and asking permission. Pulling away and breaking the kiss, he met her gaze. Without saying a word, she lifted her hands in the air so he could pull her tank top over her head.

She was braless because it was the wee hours of the morning.

He reached behind him and tugged off his own shirt. Then she shimmied out of her pajama shorts and underwear. His gaze roamed her body.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, cupping her cheek again and bringing his mouth back down to hers. His kisses were so tender, and yet passion radiated from every stroke of his tongue, every movement of his lips. Even the way he cradled her face in his hand spoke of possession and need. A shudder swept through him when she cupped him over his black boxer shorts. She smiled into the kiss before she began to stroke him.

Backing her up until her butt hit the fridge, his kisses traveled along her cheek and jaw, down over her neck and chest, stopping at each nipple until it was an achy peak of need. His tongue swirled around her belly button, then drew a trail lower. Inhaling deep, with his nose pressed at the top of her pussy, he paused and tipped his gaze up to hers before he sunk to his knees and shouldered her thighs apart.

With so much patience and such a gentle touch, his hands ran up her leg, from her ankle to her thigh, chasing a fiery path of need that finished between her legs. He brought her right foot up to his shoulder and kissed a new path up from her ankle to her pussy.

Blowing cool air on her wet, hot center, he had her shivering and pressing herhips forward, desperate for something else. For anything else. For all of it.

Please.

Finally, he put her out of her delicious misery and flicked his tongue out, hitting her clit in just the right spot.

Her body nearly buckled to the ground. She grappled blind for the wall, or the counter, or something, but came up with nothing but the refrigerator handle to keep her stable.

With each stroke he grew bolder, more adventurous, until finally, his tongue was probing her center, fucking her like a cock. She was inches from losing her mind forever.

She’d always been very sex positive and had a drawer of vibrators at her apartment. She also had no problem providing a man with gentle instruction in order to help them both get her where they wanted her to go. But Wyatt seemed to need no coaching or suggestions. The way he laved at her clit, then plunged his tongue inside, had her head pressing hard into the fridge behind her and stars flickering behind her closed eyes.

She was close in no time. Orgasms had thankfully never been a struggle for Vica. Mostly because she refused to leave it up to the man. If he wasn’t getting her there, she took matters into her own hand and made sure she wasn’t left hanging. Mother Nature designed females with a pleasure button, no way should she ever be denied the pleasure she deserved.

Holding onto the refrigerator door handle with one hand, she trailed her hand down her body with the other until she found Wyatt’s thick mop of hair and buried her fingers there as the orgasm brewed inside her lower belly.

Of their own volition, her hips bucked, riding his face as he continued to consume her, to pleasure her, and show her just how much he wanted her.

When his tongue plunged inside again, she detonated.

Bright lights flashed behind her closed lids, and wave after wave of bliss spread out from her center. He latched onto her clit and sucked, sending her further into the ether, floating above them and watching like a dirty voyeur as he buriedhis face between her legs in the kitchen.

Her toes curled on the cool kitchen tile, and she was probably close to pulling out all of his hair, but she couldn’t stop herself even if she tried. The way he feasted on her, the way he drank down her release and flicked her already swollen clit with his tongue, just shoved her into another orgasm as fast as the first one receded.

She rode that second wave not nearly as steady as she did the first. Her legs were wobbly and her muscles started to cramp, but there was no denying how good it all felt. How distracting it was from all the chaos and turmoil that waited for her in the daylight.

By the time she came down from that second climax, every muscle in her body was exhausted. Her bones had dissolved to mush, and she could barely keep her eyes open.

Wyatt stood up and wiped his face with his hand before boxing her in against the fridge and taking her mouth. She tasted herself on his lips and tongue, but she didn’t care. His kisses were the perfect medicine for her sudden fatigue. They gave her the second wind she needed and soon she was leaping up onto his hips. He moved them over to the counter, plunking her bare butt on the granite, and sent his boxers to his ankles.

This was the first time she’d seen him without a shirt. So she gave herself permission to objectify him and appreciate just how beautiful he was. His arms were big and muscular. Defined and hard. And his torso … she had to keep herself from salivating, otherwise she was going to drool all over him.

“This isn’t going to work,” he said, glancing down between their bodies. “We can’t do this.”

Her heart threatened to shatter into a million pieces. “Wha—”

“The counter is too tall.”

Oh. Thank god.

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