Page 90 of Promise Me Nothing
“You deserve it, you know. Happiness.” His eyes search mine, probe for answers to questions he’s never asked me. “And I think you might have told yourself somewhere along the line that you don’t.”
I can’t help the shuddered breath that I take, the wave of emotion rushing into my chest and pushing goose bumps up along the skin on my arms.
Wyatt reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my right here, his fingers trailing lightly down the side of my neck, leaving a ripple of goose bumps in their wake.
“And if I know anything about you,” he adds, his hand holding me lightly at the side of my neck, his fingers singeing my skin, “it’s that you’re probably deserving of an amazingly happy life more than most people I know.”
Wyatt steps closer to me and I can’t help when my eyes drop to his mouth. To the soft lips that I’d love nothing more than to feel pressed to mine.
He pulls me into him, the length of his tall, strong frame pressed against me, and he wraps me in his arms. A full body hug, one like I’ve never felt before.
His face tucks into the space between my cheek and my shoulder, and he slowly brushes his stubble along my neck.
My body shivers, and then I feel him press a light kiss against my skin. Hear him inhale. Hold back a moan when his hand squeezes my hip.
He stays like that for longer than should seem normal, not doing anything else, not moving. Just existing in my space, me existing in his, our bodies pressed deliciously together to the point that I can feel his muscles flexing and giving as I remain in his arms.
But it doesn’t feel anythingbutnormal. My body wants him close, in my space, smelling my neck, licking my skin. As close to me as possible.
And I’ve never had that before. Never wanted to invite a man into my personal space. Never felt this desire to have someone so close to me.
Sure, there have been the men who disregard how I feel and do what they want. But Wyatt is the first that has been welcomed. That Iwantto stay near me.
He smells really good, a sort of woody cinnamon cologne that screamsexpensiveandmanandlust.
That’s the only thing I can assume this feeling is. This sudden burst of something racing around my body, hardening my nipples and making me feel slick between my legs.
Gone are the previous emotions, the small ripple of sadness I’d felt at our conversation. In its place is an aching desire to be held, to be pulled closer, if that’s even possible.
Which is why I nearly moan the loss when he pulls back, steps away. I have to tell myself to let go from where my hands were gripping the cotton of his shirt.
“Let’s dance,” he says, and I nod, following him almost blindly out to the dance floor, leaving my twelve dollar drink behind without a care.
Once we get to the middle, I feel awkward, like I don’t know what to do with my hands or how to stand and I suddenly can’t remember how to dance at all.
But Wyatt just gives me a smile and pulls me close, his hands at my hips and my arms wrapped loosely at his neck. We sway a little, and he takes the lead as the music thrums and pulses around us, a popular R&B song with a deep bass.
We dance like that for a little bit, eye-to-eye, hip to hip. And then at some point, I gain my confidence back. Remember all the times I’ve wanted to go out and dance with a boy that I like, imagined what I’d do to drive him crazy.
And I take hold of that girl I wish I could be, sometimes, and I allow the sips of alcohol to fuel that little bit of confidence.
My hands stroke along his shoulders, down his arms, my hips rotating and rolling, and then I grip Wyatt tightly at the hips and press into him, feeling a thrill of satisfaction when his eyes drop to half-mast and a small groan comes from his lips.
I bite my lip and do it again, and Wyatt follows my lead, our bodies finding a rhythm that’s overtly sexual, feels slightly deviant, but feeds a fire inside of me that I need stoked.
When the song changes, I turn around, press my back into him, feel his strong arms pulling me closer as I grind us together.
I can feel his length pressed against me from behind. He’s hard, and I set my hands on his knees and drop slightly, then slide my body up against his waist, pushing my ass into him, enjoying the way his hands tighten on me, the puff of air that hits my neck, a moan I can’t hear.
Before I can do it again, before I can continue this bit of seduction that has me feeling sultry and sexy even in my slight cluelessness, he throws a wrench in my game.
Wyatt spins me around, both of his hands coming to either side of my face, and then he presses his lips to mine.
I need no coaxing, my mouth opening to tangle my tongue with his, to invite him in. We’re both covered in a sheen of sweat, the dance floor hot and filled with bodies, and I love the way it feels when his hand drops to my lower back and under my shirt, pressing against my damp skin. Stroking lightly, a soft, teasing caress, that sends goose bumps up my back.
He wants me closer, and it’s all I want, too.
But as he continues to kiss me, the only thing I can focus on is wanting to touch and taste and pull him into my skin. Under my skin. Inside of my body.
