Page 56 of Tempting Wyatt
“Jesus,” he mutters, but he doesn’t move away.
“Need me to leave so you can pray?”
His mouth twitches. “I was actually just thinking about worshipping on my knees now that you mention it.”
We’re locked in some sort of standoff, whoever blinks first loses. I refuse to look away even though I can feel him battling with himself.
“It’s a really bad idea,” he says quietly.
I nod because he’s not wrong. “Probably. But you don’t seem like the kind of man who runs from bad ideas.”
“I think you have me confused with Caleb.”
I give a short shake of my head. “I could never confuse you with anyone. I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“Never met anyone like you either. Fancy face, sassy-ass attitude. Stronger and more stubborn than you look.”
I smile wide at the compliments. “Not sure what to do with me?”
“I know exactly what to do with you. I just really fucking shouldn’t.”
The battle he’s fighting with himself is as fascinating as it is confusing. I shrug, causing my wide-necked shirt to slip off my shoulder. “Then don’t.”
“Doesn’t feel like I’ve had much of a choice lately.”
“You always have a choice, rancher. Take what you want or play it safe. Either way, you should join your family for dinner.”
I step out of his grasp and turn to leave. One thing my childhood taught me was not to beg for attention and affection from people who couldn’t give it.
I’ve barely turned away from him when I hear it. The low gravelly words that stop me in my tracks.
“Fuck it.”
His hand encircles my waist, and my body is yanked backward and turned to face his. Before the surprised gasp can leave my lips, his mouth is on mine, rough and demanding,tasting of frustration and something sharp like whiskey and sweet like mint.
My knees go weak as I melt against him.
His hands grip my waist hard enough to remind me that I’m not imagining this, that it’s really happening. Then I’m airborne in his arms just before he spins us and plants my ass on his waist-high workbench. A disgruntled mewing from a displaced kitten nearby barely registers as his tongue slides inside my mouth.
I moan like a woman possessed.
I could taste the inside of this man’s mouth for hours. His thick, warm tongue lashes powerfully against mine, and the whimpers escape before I can stop them. He swallows my cries in his mouth as his hands roam purposefully over my body.
He’s everywhere. Imprinting the taste and feel of himself into every inch of me. He’s a powerful kisser, growing wilder and hotter every second that this continues.
Our mouths sync into a feverish dance of kissing, licking, and sucking. The back-and-forth exchange of power makes me dizzy. The barn spins around us, and I wrap my legs around him, pulling his body as close as I can manage.
I shouldn’t want him like this. Shouldn’t even be thinking about diving into a hookup or anything even relationship adjacent after the mess with Malcolm. But I crave the way this man pushes me to my limits, the way he makes me feel more alive than I ever have.
And now that I’ve had a taste of him, I only want more.
I’m dry humping him shamelessly in a barn. And I have no regrets.
When his hands dive into my hair and his lips drag down my throat, I know there’s no stopping this now.
The kiss isn’t taking the edge off. It’s making my need for him stronger—fuel on a blazing fire.
His breath catches. He pulls back, just for a second. His hands are still holding my face. Not pulling me in, not pushing me away. He’s simply holding me there. Steady. In place. Watching me, no, memorizing me. I recognize the want in his eyes because I’m certain it’s a reflection of the need in mine.
