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“God, baby.” He claimed her mouth, tongue delving in and out in time to the slow grind of her hips.
Her panties were soaking. Her clit throbbing and swollen.
As if he couldn’t last another second, he tossed her back on the bed and stripped off the rest of her clothes. He ripped off his clothes, giving her the first glimpse of hard muscles.
Tendons and veins roped his forearms as he popped the button of his fly and lowered the zipper. He didn’t remove the rest of his clothes, but just the sight of his stiff cock, long and hard and thick, left her panting.
He took her nipple in his mouth, and all thoughts evaporated. She tangled her fingers in his hair and dragged him down, drowning in sensation.
Next thing she knew, he had her stripped naked and was moving down her body, kissing, kissing, kissing. Until his lips landed on her soaking pussy.
When he thrust his tongue into her folds, she cried out, fingers scraping his shoulders, and she gave herself up to the feeling of his lips and tongue.
She writhed. She rocked. The dark pressure inside her felt like it would explode, and she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. She could only float in her lover’s arms.
Gliding a finger inside her, he simultaneously settled his mouth over her clit.
“Oh…god!” A primal groan left her, and her pussy gave a hard pulse, warning her just how close she was to splintering apart for this man.
His eyes glowed up at her as he swirled his tongue around her straining clit. He sank his finger deeper, curled against her inner wall and shooting her off the edge of the cliff.
She soared for long minutes, lost in bliss as he drew moan after moan from her. With a final cry, she collapsed to the bed in a haze of aftershocks.
Slowly, he withdrew his finger and lifted his head. He pushed up the bed and stretched out beside her, drawing her close.
He didn’t move to tear off his clothes. He didn’t demand she pleasure him too. He simply kissed her, soft and slow.
“Wyatt,” she murmured against his lips. “I still want you.”
“I’m aching for you. But I think we should take this slow. I…” He stared down into her eyes. “You’re one of my only friends here, and though I want more, I don’t want to jeopardize that.”
She didn’t argue that it couldn’t happen, but the things he made her feel—safe and strong and seen and appreciated, all at the same time—made her think this wasn’t a mistake.
He cradled her head against him and brushed his lips over her hair with a new tenderness that made her heart yearn for more.
He’d taken her to the pinnacle of pleasure and demanded nothing for himself, proof of the kind of man he was. So different from what she’d experienced before.
She didn’t know if she was ready for all of it either, but right now, wrapped in his arms with her head pillowed on his solid chest, she didn’t care about anything except staying right where she was.
She would just have to show him how right they could be together.
Chapter Ten
Wyatt found Whitley in the clinic, bent over a supply cart, and stopped in the doorway just to watch her before she noticed him.
God, last night. He’d barely slept, lying awake throbbing and replaying every second of it.
Her mouth under his. The sound she’d made against his throat.
The way she’d said, “I didn’t say stop,” like she was more fevered than she had been when he brought her in.
He’d wanted to finish what they started. Wanted to take it all the way, to strip away every last barrier between them and give her everything he had to give.
But he’d pulled back, and he still believed that was the right call. The trust they’d built over weeks of open doors and shared meals and quiet mornings wasn’t something he was willing to gamble on one reckless night.
No matter how much his body argued otherwise.
At the bonfire he noticed things about her that he hadn’t let himself fully examine until he was alone in the dark afterward. The way Whitley’s gaze had lingered on Maren curled up half asleep in her mother’s lap. The way she’d watched Navy bounce between her relatives, her antics making them all laugh.
