Page 58 of Light My Fire

At various moments throughout the day, I’m suddenly reminded of what it felt like to have Wyatt moving inside me, gaze locked on mine, and my body feels tingly all over. The orgasms he gave me… oh my god. I had no idea a tongue could dothat.

I’m a little sore, but not much. More like just aware that my body was well-loved.

It—and Wyatt—were everything that I could have hoped for in my sexual introduction.

But now that I’ve experienced it, I feel greedy.

Give memore, more, more.

Wyatt made it clear he’s happy to oblige.

But… dang it.

Jackson Hill.

There’s just something about him. Yes, he’s incredibly handsome and muscular. It’s more than that, though. He’sso easy to laugh with and he also showed me a caring and compassionate side last night when I found him sleeping by the dogs.

I’m intrigued with the idea of what it would be like to experience pleasure at his hand.

As I change into my last remaining pair of clean leggings and a tank top, I think maybe Wyatt was right—he’s created a monster.

My phone pings on the nightstand where I have it charging and I glance down. It’s my grandmother.

Hope you’re safe and sound and having fun. The storm didn’t look too bad.

I realize my grandmother was matchmaking, but I don’t think she intended for me to have quitethismuch fun.

Then again, with Heidi Wilder, you never know.

Yes, everything is good. :)

I also have a text from my best friend Sophie who is also in vet school.

Drinks after our exams?

YES. I have SO much to tell you!

Ooh, spill the tea.

I will as soon as I get home.

I don’t want to text about my night with Wyatt or my conflicted feelings. That is best discussed over a platter of nachos and some chilled margaritas.

I should be worried about the fact that the snow isn’t melting fast enough to get me home on Sunday, but instead I’m totally distracted by the undeniable fact that I’m attracted to both Wyatt and Jackson.

Plus, Luke, if I’m being totally honest.

But Luke doesn’t want anything to do with me.

He’s been nice. He’s polite. He’s almost completely stopped scowling. But he’s treating me like a kid sister. One who crashed his guys’ weekend. He’s merely tolerating me.

Grabbing up all of my dirty clothes, I toss them into a laundry basket in the main bedroom’s closet and head out into the hallway. I didn’t expect to be here an extra two days and I’m out of clean underwear. Though I could probably go without underwear.

That thought sneaks in from nowhere.

Yep. Definitely created a monster.

I still want to do laundry anyway. I hate getting back home to my apartment and having to empty a suitcase full of dirty clothes.

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