Page 58 of Say You Want Me
We rock together as I struggle to keep myself in check.
Wyatt doesn’t miss a thing. “Don’t hold back.”
“I just feel so much.”
“Let it go,” he requests.
And I do. I close my eyes and let the tears leak out. I feel him kiss the moisture away.
Our lips find each other’s, and I lose myself there.
“This is how we should’ve been the first time,” Wyatt says as he pushes deeper.
I touch his face. “I think this is exactly how it should’ve happened.”
Wyatt continues to rock languidly. “You feel so damn good.”
“Show me,” I plead.
And he does. He picks up the pace a little more, and my fingers dig into his back. I start to climb again, but there’s no way I can handle another orgasm. Yet, it’s building. He watches my face, and my cries start to become louder.
“Wyatt—” I hold on tighter. “I can’t.”
“You can.”
No. My head shakes back and forth as my hips rise to meet his. There’s no way I can handle this, but every inch of me is burning hotter and hotter for release. “Oh, God. Oh, God.”
He dips his hand between us and pushes against my clit, sending me soaring over the edge. My back arches and it’s as if every nerve inside me detonates. He anchors me to this earth.
Wyatt follows me over the edge, calling out my name before we collapse on the bed. I lie against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. His hand rests in my hair, and I close my eyes. I feel safe, sated, and damn glad I threw out that rule book.
We make love off and on all night long. In between, he holds me or we drift off. The sun starts to peek through the windows before we finally sleep.
I could spend every day of my life like this.
This is heaven. This is where I want to be.
I just need to find the courage to do it.
WE SPEND THE DAY AThis family’s vacation farm. I can’t get over the picturesque views, each time I turn around, I want to snap a photo. I have to admit, if only to myself, that it’s hard not to fall in love with this place.
It’s modern, but timeless.
“What’s with that grin?” I ask as we sit in the rocking chairs.
“I’m observing you.”
“And what do you see?”
Wyatt looks back out at the landscape and then back to me. “I see you fallin’ in love with my place. Who’d have thought you’d love the countryside, Big City? It looks good on you.”
“Hmm,” I muse. “I don’t know that it’s the countryside, Little Buckaroo.”
“What did you call me?” He stands quickly.
I’ve been mulling over the perfect nickname for him. Since he rides horses, and I know the “little” part will piss him off, this seemed perfect.
“Little Buckaroo.”
