Page 51 of Win My Heart

Wade’s tongue swirls around my clit and he slips two fingers inside me, pumping in then curving upward and hitting just the right spot.

“Ohhh. Oh. Ohhhhh. Uhm.”

The noises I make are unlike anything I would have expected to come out of me. I’m what some would call a prude—when I don’t have my gamer hat on. Nope, not a dirty talker between the sheets. My hips lift upward and I find myself threading my fingers through his hair.

I can feel the heat building, threatening to explode as he lets out a hum that vibrates against the sensitive nub between my legs.

He licks and nips until my entire body starts to shake.

Literal stars fill my sight as tiny tremors roll through me. All the while, Wade’s right there, seeing me through it.

He slowly stops his ministrations and wipes his mouth on the inside of my thigh.

In normal Bernie world, I’d be ten shades of embarrassed right now. Hello, here is a man—Wade, to be exact—with his face in my pussy and O.M.G., what has gotten into me? I shiver, knowing he’s still between my legs. But my body, soul, and mind are on a high, and it doesn’t matter that I’ve never been more exposed or more vulnerable than I am right now.

I lie there, gasping for air, as he crawls up my body, his smile shining down at me.

“Well, did I rock your world?”

I snort. “Yes, you absolutely did. Want a cookie?”

His eyebrow quirks, his tone low and sexy. “I’ll eat your cookie anytime, Benny.”

The truth of it all is that he was right. I do want more. So much more.

I want everything from Wade Roberts.

I’m just not certain I’ll ever get what I truly want.

His heart.

* * *

In the weeks that follow our night in LA, Wade finds his work schedule less demanding. While the gala for Generous Hearts did so much better than expected, his promotion hasn’t come yet, but he still has high hopes.

He shows up at my apartment at least twice a week with dinner in hand. One night, I make one of my favorite comfort meals, and he nearly gags. Apparently, he’s not a fan of tuna, so the tuna noddle casserole is a no-go for him.

While I cook a lot of my meals, I’m a sucker for takeout, so him bringing dinner works for me.

Our nights together consist of dinner while watching a show, making out, rewinding parts of the show we missed, fooling around, and then continuing to finish the show. It’s a habit we’ve fallen into, and I love it.

We finishedBridgertonand started watchingStranger Things. He said he needed something more manly. I just chuckled, then suggested the show because I was two seasons behind and wanted to catch up.

I’m sitting at my desk, checking my email, when my stomach rumbles. Looking at the time, I notice it’s just past eight.

Wade was supposed to be here already, so I stand and look for my phone. Maybe he texted. Looking around my apartment, I find my phone on the bathroom counter.

Sure enough, he texted that he was running late and would bring dinner.

Still dressed in jeans and a tee, I decide to change into my pj’s, which consists of a pair of sleep shorts and a tank. My fingers pause at the clasp of my bra. Do I lose it or keep it?

While I’m sure Wade wouldn’t mind them hanging free, it feels awkward just hanging out with a guy who’s not your boyfriend without a bra on.

I scrunch my nose at the reminder that we haven’t defined our relationship yet, then leave my bra on and tug on a tank.

Just as I walk down the hall, I hear a knock at my door. Checking through the peephole, I see that it’s Wade, so I let him in.

The skin around his eyes bunch in a pained stare.

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