Page 35 of Concealed

Know.

“If you ask me a question like that, then you better be prepared for my answer.”

Now his voice has a growly rasp to it, and he’s walking close enough to notice me shivering. He stops and sets both big hands on my waist, angling his head so I have to look at him.

“And keep your eyes on mine when I answer you,” he insists.

Suddenly, my courage fades, and maybe poking the bear wasn’t such a great idea.

Prepared? Not even a little bit.

But I’m also not scared. I have no issue being alone in a strange, dark place with Wyatt, and that realization is a comforting sensation that sends warm tingles from my core down to my fingertips and toes.

But I have no idea how to handle a man like him.

I keep my eyes on his anyway.

“Still want to know what was running through my head?” he asks, “Because there’s no going back after I tell you.”

I can’t breathe, so I just nod.

“Keep this in mind, Rebecca. I don’t think of you as broken. A broken woman wouldn’t have packed up her car and left Vegas. I also know that you haven’t had feelings for your ex in years because you told me yourself. So, what I was thinking had a lot to do with my dick and not much to do with my head. Still want to know?”

Holy. Shit.

My stomach flip-flops and chills cover me from head to toe.

“Sometimes, you treat me like I’m broken,” I whisper.

He shakes his head. “I treat youcarefully. There’s a difference. And I only do that because I don’t know what you need from me, and I don’t want to overstep. If I thought you were broken, I would have given you privacy and left you alone in your room to heal and put yourself back together. But you’re already whole.”

It’s the most poignant thing anyone has ever said to me.

He gets it.

He getsme.

“Tell me,” I insist, and my voice is smoke.

He moves closer. The heat of his body and the scent of his skin steal all the air from my lungs. I shock both of us when I reach for him and rest my hands on the solid muscles of his chest. It gives him the push he needs to speak his truth.

“I was thinking that you’re sexy as hell and have the sweetest ass I’ve ever seen. I was thinking that it’s pretty awesome coming home to a view like you, and that I’d like a lot more of it. And I was thinking that I’d really like to feel those lips.”

“Were you going to kiss me after we went swimming?” I ask.

“Fuck yes, I was. Your eyes were begging for it, and I’m dying to know how you taste.”

I knew it!

I haven’t totally lost it.

It’s like an out-of-body experience when I say, “Then don’t you think it’s about time that you find out?”

“Woman, don’t tempt me. Maybe when you haven’t had anything to drink–”

“Wyatt? Shut up. Again. I’m not drunk.”

I rise to my tiptoes and press my lips against his. I know in an instant that it’s something I needed to do and a choice I needed to make. I want him and whether or not it makes sense, I can choose to have him now.

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