Page 64 of The Order of Disorder
Three men I loved with my whole heart, even if it’s not supposed to work that way. Even if that’s not supposed to make sense.
I would give anything to feel close to them again. Anything to bridge the aching distance between then and now, between memory and flesh.
“God, really?” A sob tightens in my throat, and for one petrified second before it passes, I think I might cry. “Fuck. I miss them so much. It’s crazy.”
“Me too, hon.” He touches my face gently, as if he can reach past the grief, through my skin, and anchor me. “I promise you, you’ll see them again.”
All except one.The thought is unbearable, so I bury it, knowing neither of us can survive that grief right now.
But Wyatt’s here, and he’s solid and he’s real. My need for him flares, hungry and fierce. I slide my hand to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, and pull him close, desperate to hold onto something tangible, something that hasn’t yetslipped through my fingers. It’s more than just wanting him, it’s the tether he gives me to everything I thought I’d already buried.
Wyatt carries a piece of them with him—Jake, Damian, Ryder. Being with him doesn’t replace what I’ve lost, but it helps me hold onto it. It reminds me it’s still real.
“I need you,” I whisper against his mouth.
He groans and kisses me back, his need meeting mine. His hands find my shoulders, and his weight presses me back into the mattress. With one smooth motion, he rolls fully over me until he’s got me pinned to the bed.
He parts my knees with his, pushing my thighs apart, and a breath escapes me as I feel the heavy warmth of his cock against my thigh, already thick and hard. He makes a low, guttural sound that rumbles through my chest and then kisses down my neck, over the curve of my breast and down my stomach, shifting lower, one hand slipping beneath each knee, spreading me wider beneath him.
“I need you too, sweetheart,” he says in a low, gravelly voice, pressing each knee down until I’m spread open beneath him. “I’m gonna be dreaming about this pussy when I’m away from it for one night. Tight, sweet—mine.”
He lowers his head and the wet heat of his mouth closes over my sex, making me gasp and arch my back in delicious shock as his tongue slides up and over my clit. My breath stutters as he moves in tight, controlled circles, as if he’s coaxing out the heat that spreads from my center and over the surface of my skin.
I try to move, to lift my hips, my whole body bowing, but his hands grip my thighs, his hold just this side of bruising, the strength in him unmistakable. His rhythm changes to match the urgency in my body, his tongue moving faster, and then his lips seal around my clit with a suction that makes me cry out.
Heat coils tight in my belly. He strokes harder with his tongue, rubbing it under the hood of my clitoris, and when heslides one finger, then two, inside of me, my vision tunnels. My whole body clenches, my breath going high and tight, and then I shatter for him, seizing hard around his fingers.
“Yes, sweetheart,” he murmurs against my inner thigh, as wave after wave grips me and releases. “That’s so fucking good, honey. That’s it.”
When the tremors pass, he rises over me, chest flushed with heat, jaw clenched, pupils blown.
“You’re so fucking sexy, baby girl,” he growls, the underside of his thick cock warm against my pussy as he grinds flat against me, palming a breast.
He dips closer, mouth brushing my cheek, breath hot against my ear.
“I used to jerk off thinking about this,” he says in a low, confessional voice. “About you. Long before I had any right to. Long before either of us knew what this was.”
I freeze, his words slicing straight through my post-orgasm haze.
“What?” I whisper, heart hammering against my ribs.
He shifts back and his eyes lock on mine, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“You think I didn’t notice you? Walking around in those little cutoff shorts? I still maintain that you’re too young for me, but I’m notblind,Maxwell.”
I blow out a surprised laugh. “I didn’t think you…saw me like that. I thought I was just a kid to you—”
His smile goes soft, his thumb brushing the corner of my mouth. “You’ve meant the world to me since you worked your first shift at Leathernecks.”
For a second, my heart stops. Then he leans forward again, kissing my cheek, my neck, my collarbone—light, feathery kisses pricked with the soft scrape of his stubble—and it’s all so real I could cry.
“I felt so guilty about it,” he continues. “You were barely out of girlhood and I couldn’t fucking breathe when you were near me.”
“Hardly,” I breathe, trying to protest, but his kisses are drawing my focus, distracting me. “You’re not that much older.”
“Ha!” he barks, but keeps moving lower, sucking one nipple into his mouth, his tongue circling slow. “Just twenty-five years. Sweetheart, I’ve had more years of not feeling this way than you’ve been alive. You’re the first person to turn my world upside down in a long time.”
He shifts down, trailing kisses over my stomach, his fingers brushing lightly over my thighs, between my legs, until he’s stroking the oversensitive slickness there until I gasp.
