Page 44

She twisted the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

His lips were firm and warm, and god, did he know how to use them. Each little brush against hers dragged her under, and her body burned for more.

Issuing a low noise, he walked her backward until her shoulders met the wall. She gasped against his lips as he braced one arm beside her head and claimed her mouth with a new fervor. His hat tumbled off, and he gave her a slow grin before kissing the life out of her.

Electric need gripped her body, and she kissed him back, parting her lips, moaning when he swept his tongue against hers. She angled her head, pushing onto tiptoe, bringing her body against his.

The evidence of his desire pressed against her hip, and instead of the fear that should have accompanied that realization, her body matched his own with an aching want.

“Whitley,” he murmured against her mouth before spattering kisses along her jaw.

She tipped her head, inviting him closer. He kissed a line down her throat and a small sound escaped her that she didn’t recognize as her own voice.

“Wyatt.” His name came out more breath than word.

“I know.” He skimmed his mouth over her pulse, once, twice, making it trip faster.

Too soon he drew back and met her eyes, chest heaving.

“I didn’t say stop.” She hooked her arms around his neck and pulled him in again.

A beat before his lips crashed over hers again, surprise and want flickered over his handsome face. He grasped her waist and slid his hands under the hem of his jacket she still wore, splaying across her lower back.

She arched into the touch, wanting more. Wanting all of it. Months of forced isolation and fear gave way to something that was the exact opposite. Being wanted. Being touched. Being alive in a body that spent so long just trying to survive instead of feeling anything good at all.

With a soft rock of her hips, she brushed against the stiff length in the front of his jeans, and he bit off a groan that tingled through her whole body.

As if he wanted to slow things down, he kissed her in slow, soft sweeps, and she memorized the shape of his mouth and the way he molded his hands to her sides. Every inch higher he mapped with his hands made her nipples pucker more until they were throbbing with need.

Gently, he skimmed his hands to her shoulders and paused a beat in silent question before guiding the coat off. She let it slip off her arms to puddle on the floor. Then she captured his mouth and kissed him until she was breathless and dizzy.

She worked her hands inside his shirt and gasped when she met pure, hard steel. Washboard abs rippled under her touch. When she eased her hands down lower, her knuckle skimmed the bulge behind his fly.

A gritty noise burst from him, and he lashed his fingers around her wrists and gently pressed them against the wall.

Being pinned by this beautiful, strong man capable of being sweet and tender and in command at the same time was driving her wild.

She arched into him, wantonly rubbing her breasts on his chest.

His hands left her wrists and he cupped her breasts instead. A cry escaped her as he learned what things made her moan.

Swishing his thumbs over her nipples sent a spike of need to her core. Pinching them lightly made her drop her head against his shoulder and force air into her lungs.

Suddenly, he cradled her face in both hands and lifted her gaze back to his. The tumult of need in his eyes was the best compliment she could ever receive—no man had ever looked at her that way before.

“Whitley. I want…” He dropped his forehead to hers, eyes squeezed shut.

She shuddered with desire. “I want it too.”

Deep brown eyes blazed down into hers. Seeing the agreement plain on her face, he lifted her as if she weighed nothing and turned for the bed.

He lay her down gently, mouth fused with hers as he slowly stripped off her top and pants, leaving her in the new bra and panties that had showed up at her door.

Pushing onto his knees, he stared down at her. “Christ, Whitley. You’re…” His throat worked on the word that never came out.

She sat up and threw herself at him. They tumbled back onto the mattress, and she straddled him, sharing a rough groan as her pussy met the thick length of his cock through the barrier of denim.

She looked into his eyes and tested a twitch of her hips, rubbing her neediest spot over the roughness again.