Page 53 of I Found You
With his hand still holding the back of my head, he tilted it, angling it to right where he wanted me. My body was like putty in his hands, following wherever he would lead. “I would strip you bare and fuck you again right here in my office. You are stunning. Thinking about those thick thighs wrapped around my head or your full tits bouncing as youride my cock, my fingers gripping your every curve, has me losing my mind. I lost control the other night, not because I had too much to drink but because having my dick inside of you was fucking ecstasy.”
“Oh, wow,” I said stupidly.
“Yeah, doll. It would absolutely wow you, of that I have no doubt.” His smirk was back as he shamelessly looked me up and down. His eyes paused on my chest, and his jaw ticked. The playfulness in his voice from a second ago was gone when he met my eyes and asked, “What else?” He must have seen the confusion on my face because he asked again, “What else made you run from me?”
“Can we not talk about this anymore? I’m sorry I freaked out.”
“No, Maeve. This is important. If I made you feel like you were in any way undesirable or if…” He paused. His Adam’s apple bobbed on a rough swallow, captivating me. “If I took something you didn’t intend to give, then I need to know.”
“You didn’t, Wyatt. Please don’t feel like you did anything wrong,” I rushed to say. “It was all just a lot, I guess. And before I had a second to think, I was bleeding, and I freaked out. I thought you would think I was pathetic because I don’t have a whole lot of experience, but sometimes that just happens with me.” I wasn’t used to being this honest with someone, especially not about something so personal. But talking to Wyatt was always so easy.
Wyatt leaned his body into mine, his eyes bright as they searched my face. “Maeve, I like you. A lot. Will you please stop ignoring me and let me in again?”
I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I settled on nodding. His hand was in my hair again, pulling my face to his.
“Are you going to kiss me?” I asked.
“Do you want me to?”
“Yes,” I sighed. His lips crashed into mine urgently. He was pure fire as he expertly claimed my mouth. He tilted his head so the brim of his hat wouldn’t be in the way. I sucked his bottom lip into my mouth and was rewarded with a throaty groan. My hands moved of their own accord, one hand in the center of his chest, the other winding over his broad shoulder, trailing down his muscular back.
A sharp pain lanced my head and pulled me away from our kiss. Jane was holding my hair hostage in her tiny little fingers. Tugging on the hair she held in a death grip, I had to move my head toward her so that it would provide some slack.
Chuckling, Wyatt carefully loosened her fingers and freed my head. “Baby girl, let go of Maeve’s hair. We’ll find something for you to practice your motor skills on.”
“We should get back out there. I don’t want to give Jackson the wrong idea about what we’re up to in here,” I told him.
“I want to give him the right idea.” Wyatt winked, a sultry smile playing on his lips.
I hopped to my feet and made swiftly for the door. Wyatt followed me out with his hand on the small of my back. I loved when he touched me, when he looked at me like he wanted to devour me. But internally, I was freaking out whenever things started to get physical. What was wrong with me?
A loud ringtone started blaring from the workbench. Wyatt made his way over there to retrieve it, pausing to pass Jane back to me. He answered it on speakerphone, and I could hear his friend Wes on the other end of the line.
“I know who broke into your garage,” Wes said by way of greeting.
“What have you got? Are you sure?” Wyatt asked him.
“Two men, one twenty, the other nineteen. The twenty-year-old is Samuel Costa. Lives at 45 Derry Hill Rd., apartment 412, with his parents, no job. He’s older, but my guess is he isn’t the leader here. That would be our nineteen-year-old friend, Trevor Myers, goes by Trey to his friends.”
Jackson was standing stock-still while he listened to Wes’s intel. He closed his eyes tight and let out a quiet “Fuck” when Wes named the perpetrator.
“He also lives at 45 Derry Hill Rd., apartment 227, with his mother and younger brother. He drives a 2013 black Honda Accord. The same Honda Accord that was seen leaving your garage late Monday,” Wes finished.
Wyatt was looking directly at Jackson, and I knew why. Jackson had been hanging around with those two for ages. They were trouble; I’d warned him of that, but he wouldn’t listen. That apartment complex was a magnet for ne’er-do-wells. I would know. It was where my mother ended up, where she left us, where Jackson still lived. Apartment 204.
“Thanks, brother. I appreciate you finding out all of this.”
“Of course. How do you want to handle it?” Wes asked.
“I want my tools and equipment back, if they still have it. I’ll get them here.” Wyatt was staring lasers at Jackson, but he quirked his brow up at his last statement in a silent question. Jackson nodded back to him, a grim expression on his face.
“You tell me when. I’ll be there,” Wes said over the phone. “And Wyatt.” He waited for confirmation to continue. “That isn’t a request.” At that, the line disconnected.
The tension in the garage was thick, almost to the point of oppressive. No one was speaking. The silence was deafening. At least it was until Jane squawked loudly, gripping my hairas she was known to do lately, and then I squawked loudly. Wyatt turned to face us, chuckling softly, his eyes no longer holding the fury they did a moment ago. Instead, they were soft and full of affection. For Jane and for me. It was a beauty to behold.
He dug into a bucket under his workbench and pulled out a rag. Crumbling it into a ball, he took out another rag, wrapped it around the now balled-up rag, and tied it with an elastic. On the wrapped ball part, he drew two small circles and a lopsided curved line in permanent marker.
“Hey, baby girl, how about you practice your grip strength on this instead of Maeve’s hair, okay?”
