Page 108 of Promise Me Nothing
I blush, feeling a little embarrassed at how obvious I am with my fears.
“Hey, I’m just glad you’re starting to feel like you fit, you know? That we want you here. Because we do.” He pauses. “Ido.” His hand slides into mine, our fingers twisting together. “I’m glad you’re here, Hannah.”
The feeling I get when he says that is a rush into my body. A surge of emotion that starts at my heart and pumps into my fingers and toes, my soul feeling filled and happy in a way it never has before.
Maybe I was wrong when I first got here a month ago. Maybe I assumed I wouldn’t belong here, that I wouldn’t fit, because I believed the people here wouldn’t accept me. But Wyatt is proving that theory wrong.
So is Paige. And Lucas. And Eleanor and Otto and the host of the lovely people I’ve met and spent time with since moving here.
Wyatt moves forward, his face hovering near mine, and I watch his eyes as they peruse my face. Take in my skin and my stringy damp hair and my lips.
Oh, the way he focuses on my lips.
When he moves the slightest bit more, his mouth meets mine. And I can’t even play coy. I can’t pretend that having his tongue slipping between my lips, pulsing and twisting with mine, isn’t everything I want and need right now. That having him pull me closer in the heated water so that I’m straddling him where he sits isn’t the picture of what I hoped would happen tonight.
So when it does, when he pulls me into his body and wraps his arms around me, our skin slick as we press together, I throw myself into it, refusing to care how he feels about my enthusiasm.
He grips my thighs as we kiss, just that bit of pressure bringing my focus away from where his lips meet mine, dropping it lower, to the place where I ache.
His fingers slide up and down my legs in a teasing caress that sends a fire racing through my veins. I shift forward, wanting no space between us, and when I feel the hardest part of him pressed against my center, I shift slightly, lining up with him and rotating my hips, the pressure of him feeling so good that I can’t help but pant out his name.
“Wyatt,” I whisper. “You’re so hard.”
He groans, his strong hands spanning my waist, gripping my hips and grinding me against where he waits, hard and ready and throbbing.
“It’s because I can’t get enough of you,” he says back, looking at my eyes as he rocks me against him. “Shit, Hannah. Fuck, you have no idea what you do to me.”
His head falls back slightly as I continue to grind against him, his eyes slipping to half mast. I lean forward and latch my mouth to his neck, giving him a soft suck, loving the taste of the salt and sweat on his skin.
I nip at him, give him a gentle bite as he begins to trace the soft patch of skin just above my bikini bottoms, and it takes everything inside of me not to just yank them off or beg him to do it. The scrap of material feels like nothing, and yet it’s in the way of what I want.
And that’s for Wyatt to slip his fingers inside of me again, to give me that pleasure that I’ve never been able to fully achieve on my own.
But instead, I slip my hands against his wet skin, stroking over the firm muscle, lightly brushing over his pecs and nipples, through the valleys of his abdomen until I reach his board shorts. When I slip my fingers just barely under the material, one of his hands grabs mine.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he tells me, and something inside of my chest cracks open, spills out, fills the space around us.
“I know,” I say back, wiggling my fingers until he lets go, and then I begin to untie his shorts. “I want to see you.” I lean forward and put my mouth against his neck again, that sweet spot that had him groaning is calling to me. I suck gently. “Let me touch you.”
His moan is a grumble that I can feel in the vibrations of his throat, and he helps me pull down his shorts, freeing his cock beneath the water.
I can’t really see it underneath the jets and bubbles of the hot tub, but I reach out and take him in hand, getting another sound from Wyatt’s lips, this one a choked noise that I can’t help but kiss off his mouth.
And then I start to pump him between my fist, not squeezing hard but just stroking him, up and down, his skin soft but hard at the same time.
So fucking hard.
Wyatt reaches out and unties my bikini top, his eyes watching mine. And I love that I can see him paying attention to my reaction. Making sure I’m okay with his every move. It takes me back to that feeling I knew I felt before.
Safe. Warm. Cared for.
And when the triangles fall away, he brings his hands up, cupping my breasts, his thumbs tracing my nipples in a way that streaks pleasure through my body, the muscles between my legs throbbing with need.
It’s almost frustrating, this delicate trace he’s doing. Around and around, then a stroke across the tip. I grit my teeth, both loving and hating what he’s doing. Loving because it feels so good and hating because it’s not fucking enough. I want him to pinch and pull and…
God, when he does. When his hands finally begin to grab and tease and he dips down, sucking one into his…
My head falls back, loving the pulsing pleasure of his lips on my skin, his tongue stroking that point that seems to still need so much more.
