Page 59 of Falling For You

Strong shoulders, defined arms, curves I hadn't been prepared for. Full chest, the curve of her waist pulling in tight before it flared out into hips that had been driving me out of my mind since the day she moved in.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this."

She didn't answer. She kissed me and pulled my shirt over my head in the same motion. Her hands spread flat across my chest and I stopped breathing. It had been years since anyone had touched me like this. Her fingers traced down my stomach and I felt every muscle tighten under her hands.

"Bedroom," she said.

She pulled me down the hall. Her bedroom smelled like vanilla and clean sheets. I pressed her against the wall and kissed her neck below her ear, her throat, the line of her collarbone. My hand slid up her back and stopped on a small raised line beneath her shoulder blade.

"Domestic call," she said. "A round came through the wall."

I traced it with my fingers and put my mouth on it. She shivered. Her head tipped back and her hands dug into my shoulders. My fingers found the clasp of her bra. She nodded against me. I unhooked it and let it fall.

She was stunning. More than I'd let myself picture during every shower and every sleepless night I'd spent pretending I wasn't thinking about her. The flush was climbing from her chest to her neck. The same pink from the morning she sprinted across the street in slippers, the color I'd wanted to see again ever since. Except now it wasn't embarrassment. It was want. And it was everywhere.

She pulled me to the bed. We fell into it together. Her back against the sheets, my body over hers, her arms pulling me closer. I kissed down between her breasts, across her stomach, felt her breathing go shallow under my mouth. Her fingers were in my hair, gripping, guiding. When my mouth reached her hip bone she made a sound that made me want to stay there for the rest of my life.

I took my time with her. I wanted to learn every inch of her body. Where she was sensitive—the inside of her wrist, the skin behind her ear, the dip of her waist where my hand fit without trying. Where she wanted pressure and where she wanted softness. She was honest with her body in a way she never was with her words—every breath, every shift, every sound telling me exactly what she needed.

I slid her jeans down her legs and tossed them on the floor.

I kissed back up her body and found her mouth again. My hand slid down her stomach, past her navel, over the fabric of her underwear. She inhaled sharply. I looked at her. Her eyes were dark and certain.

I slipped my hand beneath the fabric. She was warm and wet and the sound she made went straight through me. I watched her face, learning what made her hips lift, what made her grip the sheets with both fists. She turned her face into the pillow and I put my mouth on her neck and kept going.

Her thighs tightened around my hand. Her back arched off the bed. She said my name once and came apart under my fingers. I felt it move through her whole body. I held her through it, my mouth against her temple, my hand still on her until she stopped shaking.

She lay there for a moment. Then she opened her eyes and looked at me like she was seeing me for the first time.

"Do you have a condom?" I asked.

She reached over and pulled open the drawer of her bedside table. She handed it to me. I sat up to open it and her hands followed. She took it from me and rolled it onto me herself, steady, her eyes on mine.

That undid me more than anything else.

She lay back and pulled me over her. I settled between her legs, my weight on my forearms, my face inches from hers. She was soft in places I didn't expect and strong in places I did, and the full length of her body against mine with nothing between us was making it impossible to think straight.

When I slid inside her, she pulled me down and held me there. Her arms tight around my neck, her forehead against mine. We moved together slowly. Her hips rocked against mine and I stopped thinking about anything else.

"Wyatt." It was barely a whisper.

I held her face in my hands and kissed her while we moved. She matched my rhythm and then broke it, pulling me deeper, wrapping her legs around my waist. Her spine lifted off the sheets. Her nails dragged down my back. I lost track of everything except her, the noises she made, and how she said my name.

She came apart again. I felt her whole body tightening, her fingers gripping my arms hard enough to leave marks. I was right behind her, my face in her neck, her name the last thing I said.

We lay there. Her breathing slowed against my chest. Her hair had come loose and it was spread across my arm. I pulled her closer and she let me.

I'd spent weeks lying awake wondering how long this would last. Whether she'd stop showing up. Whether the good thing would end the way good things in my life always ended. I wasn't wondering anymore. She was here. Her breathing was slow against my chest and her hand was resting over my heart and she was here.

CHAPTER 24

Mom

ANDY

That first morning, I woke up in my own bed and nothing about it was familiar.

Wyatt's arm was heavy across my waist, his breathing slow and even against the back of my neck. His hand was resting just below my ribs, fingers loose, like he'd fallen asleep holding on and his grip relaxed without letting go. I lay there trying to hold on to every detail before the morning took it from me.