Page 17 of Say You Want Me
“Yeah?”
“What is the rule for kissing?”
I’m not sure what he’s asking. Something about rules and lips touching, but when his hands are on me, I go stupid. “Kissing is good.”
He doesn’t say another word. His lips press against mine and my brain shuts down. My fingers grip his shirt, holding him to me as his arms enclose around me. Kissing him is a full-body experience. I feel it all the way from my head to my toes. All I want to do is kiss him forever. His tongue glides against mine, and I moan. This is an otherworldly type of kiss. The kind that little girls dream of that makes everything else disappear.
It’s everything I remember.
Our tongues move in harmony, and his hands hold me exactly where he wants me. I don’t care, though. I wouldn’t think of moving away from him when his mouth is on mine. His lips are firm and his tongue demands access to every inch of my mouth. I lose all track of time as he kisses me as if I’m his reason for living. He’s in complete control of me right now, and that’s not a good thing, but I can’t find the wherewithal to stop him.
All too soon, he pulls back. “Kissing is very good. Kissing you is fucking unreal.”
I’m a fool. My rules are a joke. Kissing is going to lead very quickly to something else. I have to put a stop to it even though I want to do nothing but kiss him.
“Yeah.” I retreat a few steps and try to catch my breath. “Kissing is now one of my rules. No more kissing. Kissing is off limits.” I have to punctuate this so he knows I’m serious.
Wyatt’s eyes blaze as he stares at me. He steps toward me with purpose. “You think so?” His body moves closer, his voice turns deep, and sultry, and his eyes become soft. “You’ll be in my bed every night. You think you can keep your hands and lips to yourself?”
“Yup.”
He grins and nods. “If you say so. I love a challenge.”
I lean in close to his ear. “I can control myself.”
Wyatt lets out a low sound from his chest as he grips my shoulders. I lean back and see the desire in his eyes, but I see the restraint as well. “We’ll see about that.” He releases me and taps my nose.
“I’LL HAVE A JACK ANDCoke, and she’ll have . . .” Wyatt trails off.
“A Sprite.”
The bartender nods, and we grab seats at the bar. For our first date, he took my pregnant ass to the bar. Because that’s completely romantic, and why not rub it in my face a little more that I can’t drink?
Smooth. Real smooth.
Last time I was here, I ended up going back to his house and . . . well . . . got quite the souvenir.
I look around as we wait for the bartender to return with our order. The dance floor is packed. Some people are spinning around the outside, and others are line dancing in the middle. Lots of girls stand off to the sides, watching and waiting for a guy to walk past. I laugh as they all get a little straighter and puff their already visible cleavage to be more prominent. I wonder how many of these girls have slept with Wyatt.
After what Presley said, I would guess all of them.
He’s known for being a bit of a slut, which never bothered me before. I’m clearly no angel, but I can’t deny the touch of jealousy I have now. It’s insane, but again, I blame the hormones. I also make a note to change the sheets on his bed and possibly burn the mattress. I can only imagine the shit that’s gone down in that house. Hell, I know what we did, and if it’s that times some unknown quantity . . .
Eww. Gross.
“You okay?” he asks while wrapping his arm around my shoulder.
“Yup. Just looking around.”
His eyes travel my sightline, and he stiffens. It’s subtle, but I notice it. “I know you’ve heard a lot of shit.”
“You don’t need—”
“I do. I’m going to say this one time.” He glances at them and then back to me. “I’ll never bullshit you. If you ask me, I’ll tell you anything you want to know. I’ll tell you this: no one has ever stayed the night in my bed. I’ve never even brought one of them back to my house. You’re the only woman who I’ve had in my bed. Ever.”
My eyes go wide at his admission. I’m stunned. He owes me nothing, but he gave me more in that one admission than he probably realizes. He confirmed what I was worried about but soothed it away in the same breath. He also confused me a bit more. Why me? Why has he never brought a girl to his bed? Why the hell me?
“Angie!” Presley yells, stopping me from asking any one of the questions tumbling through my mind. “You’re here!”
