Page 55 of Wrath
Good thing he was built for destroying walls.
He let her guide him back to the top of the tower, and when she lifted her face to the sky and bade him to do the same, he did that too. The water was a joy on his skin and he couldn’t remember the last time he did something simply because it made him happy.
Speaking made him happy, but only when he did it for her. It felt intimate. Before he met her, before Sara had sliced his throat, Wyatt had used words to hurl insults, to bully kitchen staff into submission, and to shout his fury at the world. He’d had a voice, but he’d alienated people, made enemies and lost friends. Now, he knew time was a precious commodity—a non-renewable resource—he had to choose his words wisely, because he couldn’t take them back.
Wyatt cupped Misha’s face between his hands. He forced the raspy sound out of his mouth. “I won’t leave you, Misha. Ever.”
Her face crumpled. Distance formed behind her eyes.
Don’t do it Misha, face this head on.
“You can’t control that, Wyatt. You can’t make promises like that. Dimitri has armies. He’s insane. I’ve seen him shoot down someone for sneezing on him.”
“He can’t hurt me. I’m bulletproof.”
She hesitated. He already knew she was attracted to him. It wasn’t Wyatt who’d propositioned her for sex; she’d come onto him first. So, if it wasn’t the attraction, and it wasn’t her fear of losing someone she cared for, then… “What’s holding you back?”
“I’m not the person you need, Wyatt. You’re this amazing, brave man who saves the world, and I’m the kind of person you fuck once, and then cut out of your life.”
His heart clenched at her harsh words. She tried to turn her face away, but he held on and forced her to meet his eyes. “You realize that you stepped between me and a gun. Me, who is bulletproof. Only someone completely selfless would do that. Misha, you’re not the kind of person you cut from your life, you’re the kind you hold on to with both hands.”
“What if two hands aren’t enough?”
He brushed away the tear on her cheek as it mingled with the rain. “Then I’ll hold on to you with everything I have. I’ll use my lips”—he kissed hers—“my body”—he enveloped her in his powerful arms, and then he lifted her hand to his chest. “And my heart.”
A burst of laughter bubbled through her tears. “Who would have thought mykoteczekwas a poet.”
“Only for you.”
Her lashes, dripping with water, lifted. The raw emotion staring back almost had him undone. “If I let you in,koteczek,I’m not letting you go.”
“Good.”
Her gasp of surprise confused him. Did she really need more convincing? Fine. He’d convince the fuck out of her.
His lips hovered near hers, but hesitated. He wanted to push her down, tear her clothes from her body and make her his. But he was acutely aware the last time they’d screwed like animals, and he wanted to make this special, to make it last.Make love in the rain. She was used to one-night stands, and he was used to betrayal. He wanted to remember every moment with Misha, to sear the sensations into his mind.
Dipping his forehead to hers, he pressed against her. Their hot breaths intermingled through the rain, little white clouds puffed through the air between them, but it wasn’t cold. It was nice.
Aching for her, he didn’t know where to begin. Her plush lips, taut nipples, tight curves. All of it. He wanted all of it. A groan of anticipation filled the air, and he wasn’t sure who it belonged to. It didn’t matter that they stood on top of a water tower, drenched in rain, or that the ever present city loomed around them. It was just the two of them in that moment, hearts beating against the other.
She made the first move. Delicate fingertips scraped down his torso, from his chest to his abs, sending slippery pleasure shooting to pool with heat in his groin. Careful not to exert too much force, he traced her jaw to her ear and then to her nape. When her touch tickled inside the waistband of his jeans, he almost jerked into her hand. He studied her reaction to his hardness. Her breathing increased, her pulse fluttered at her neck. She liked it. She liked him. It all felt right.
Misha pulled back, and a rush of cool air came between them. For a moment, he feared she’d turn this into a game, but she lifted her shirt over her head to splash at their feet. Standing before him, half-naked, she trembled. Perfectly round breasts were hard, nipples peaked and straining toward him. Tiny goosebumps rippled over her flesh, but she didn’t look cold. She looked flushed with fever.
“This is the first time I’ve been with anyone more than once,” she confided.
“And it will be the last time,” he croaked. “Nobody else after me.”
It was a demand he didn’t have the right to make, but he was making it. So fucking what?
His lips found hers with a gentle touch. It was the kiss he should have given her from the start. Not some hard and fast coupling where he didn’t look in her eyes as he fucked her from behind, but the kiss to show how much she was worth. He slid his tongue past her lips, while hers caressed back. Hot, slippery and damned erotic. Deep heat rose in his body. Prickling awareness told him he reacted on a biological level, pumping pheromones from his pores, demanding she become his.
He tugged until her soft front met the hard planes of his chest. “You’re mine, Misha.”
She moaned into his mouth, submitting. “And you’re mine,koteczek.”
Her words snapped whatever control he had. All the lust and desire he’d leashed since she’d danced for him came roaring to the surface, flooding his senses. He scooped her up and lowered her to the mat. Deepening his kiss, he let his hands roam over her body, learning her, relishing her for the first time. But it wasn’t enough, he needed more.
