12. Rosie

Chapter Twelve

Rosie

Wyatt: For the record, I'm in love with you.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod!"

Fortunately, I was the only person in my car to hear myself. I was freaking the hell out.

I hadn't forgotten that Wyatt had whispered that he'd loved me in the heat of the moment. My little heart desperately wanted it to be true, but I could chalk that up to being overcome by lust. Maybe. Or if I could scrounge up the courage, I could admit I was all up in my feels when it came to Wyatt.

I had to force myself to actually breathe. I felt a little lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. Denial was a safe space, at least when it came to feelings. When I got some oxygen to my brain, I contemplated Wyatt and feelings and me, and why I always shied away from letting myself think too deeply about anyone.

I remember when I was in high school, and I had this crush on a boy. My dad had sat me down and told me I would have crushes on people and not to be afraid. He'd told me that the expression " it was better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all " was something he believed deeply. He'd said he missed my mom but would never regret loving her.

The little girl in me who hadn't known what to do when my mom was just gone one day, especially after a day that was supposed to be so exciting, had been extremely skeptical about this. Dad had come home with my baby brother, and I'd never seen my mother again. I knew now, in the clear light of adulthood and as an ER nurse, that the medical team had valiantly tried to keep her alive. Yet once what started in her happened, it was like a ball rolling down a hill. There were no brakes to stop it. The medical team would've thrown one thing after another in the way, hoping and praying she'd somehow pull through. In the end, none of those things could staunch the bleeding.

I was scared of caring too much for anyone. I was terrified to fall in love. I was afraid to have anyone matter that much. My father had seemed desolate in the aftermath of my mother's death, but he'd pulled himself together. I'd been a little girl who hadn't known how to absorb the shock of it and the aftershocks that still rippled through my life from that loss.

I was also afraid to think seriously about the idea of commitment and family because I loved babies. I wanted a family, but I was utterly terrified to have a baby. I didn't even know how to have a conversation with someone about the depth of my fear. It felt like a chasm I couldn't cross.

I'd seen a therapist when I was a little girl and then again after I started nursing school and came to an understanding of what had actually happened to my mother. I recalled the therapist pointing out that my job illuminated something that could maybe help ease my fear. That life was truly random, and so many other things could happen. Intellectually, I understood that, but the emotional little girl inside me who'd lost her mom was still so very frightened.

Having Wyatt just lay his feelings out there blew my mind. I also recognized the courage it took for him to do that. Beyond the gossip circulating about the Cannon family, the family could be seen as lucky because they had so much wealth. Yet they shared a tangled and painful history. It was all very messy, and I had been McKenna's friend through most of it. My home had been a safe place for her.

Wyatt was boldly and courageously putting his heart right out there for me, and I was terrified. I'd known nothing but love growing up. My father was the best father I could imagine, somehow pulling himself together and doing the best he could to take care of me and Brent when we were growing up. Even though the pain of my mother's loss was still a sharp ache, my only memories of her were loving and warm.

Wyatt's text bounced around in my thoughts as I drove home from work. When I got home, I glanced at the clock on my dashboard. Wyatt would probably be here in a few minutes. My eyes arced through the trees toward the main house. My brother's car wasn't there. My worry was like a reflex when it came to him.

Shoving those worries away, I turned off my car. I climbed out and rounded to the passenger side to get my backpack and purse. Just as I was closing the door, a pair of headlights illuminated me. I glanced toward the head of the driveway to recognize the shape of Wyatt's truck. There were plenty of trucks in Fireweed Harbor, yet I knew this one belonged to Wyatt. My heart began pounding hard and fast in my chest.

I waited because it seemed silly to rush inside. A moment later, he had parked beside my car and climbed out. I had taken a step back and could feel the cool metal of my car behind me.

"Hey, Rosie," Wyatt said, his voice a little rumbly.

I had to clear my throat to even speak. Heat buffeted me like the rush of a fire when the wind blew. "Hey!" I squeaked.

I hadn't remembered to leave on my porch light, so we had nothing but the silvery light from the moon shining above. It was maybe three-quarters full and cast Wyatt's face half in shadow. His features were etched in the pearly light—the angled line of a cheekbone, the sharp cut of his jaw, his wide full lips, and his eyes caught in the light, starlight blue, almost brighter for the contrast with the darkness.

He took a step closer. Even though it felt impossible, my pulse began to race faster and faster.

I couldn't think at all when he asked, "How are you?"

My fingers tightened as I clutched my backpack and purse with both hands, and they dangled in front of my knees.

"Rosie?" he prompted.

My brain caught up to the conversation like a rubber band snapping back into place. "I'm fine. Busy day. It's always busy at the hospital."

I felt a little lightheaded again, almost dizzy from his presence.

"Can I get your stuff?" he asked.

I nodded as he reached for my backpack and purse and felt his fingers brush against mine. His touch was a jolt of fiery electricity that raced up my arm and swirled into the heat spinning inside me. He set my things on the hood of his truck.

He stepped closer, lifting his other hand and catching one of the loose tendrils of my hair dangling down around my neck where it had fallen loose from my ponytail. He twirled it around his fingers. When I felt the brush of his knuckles against my neck, I practically arched up into his touch like a cat purring.

"Um, how was your day?" I belatedly asked.

"Busy. A different kind of busy than you deal with at the hospital." He paused, his thumb brushing along the edge of my jaw and up across my bottom lip. My mouth parted, and I felt the slick heat between my thighs when my channel clenched at nothing more than his touch.

He took another step closer, his body coming flush against mine. With his heat in front of me and the metal of the car behind me, my nerves felt alive and shimmering from the contrast.

"Can I kiss you, Rosie?" he rasped.

With my heartbeat pounding and my breath shallow, I sucked in a quick breath. I was still teetering on the edge of being woozy from his mere presence, but I managed to nod.

Wyatt took another step closer. When one of his arms slid around my waist and his palm flattened in the center of my back, his presence soothed the wildness in me. It didn't make sense. My need was so fierce, such a rush. It was like water tumbling over the edge of a cliff, the velocity accelerating out of control. Yet his presence caught me in that tumbling surge. I could feel the heat of his palm on my back, his touch anchoring me in the moment.

He lifted his other hand, palming my cheek. His thumb traced along the edge of my jaw, curving up to slide another slow brush across my bottom lip. I was caught in the beam of his heated gaze. Time felt slow and fast at once.

I didn't realize I was holding my breath until he dipped his head and his lips brushed over mine. My breath released in a soft, needy sigh. Finally, finally , he fit his mouth over mine and kissed me.

I loved the way Wyatt kissed me, gentle and commanding. He always started slow. It felt as if he were kindling the flames rising higher and higher inside me. With lingering brushes of his lips over mine, a kiss dropped at one corner of my mouth and then the other. Heat pooled low in my belly, air rushing into the fire and building its heat rapidly.

His tongue swept into my mouth with little teases at first until I let out an impatient sound in the back of my throat. He shifted incrementally closer, bringing the full force of his strength and warmth against my body. His hand slid down my back to curve over my bottom. With a subtle pressure from his touch, I felt the hot length of his arousal nestled in the cradle of my hips.

He angled his head to the side, taking control of our kiss. Deep sweeps of his tongue against mine shifted from slow to messy and devouring. I couldn't get enough of him. I was gasping, and our teeth clinked together. He was rocking, nudging his hips into mine, and I could feel the slippery heat of my arousal, my panties drenched with it.

Wyatt lifted his head, and we stared at each other. The moonlight above offered a shimmery light. An owl hooted in the trees, and another one answered from a distance. Seconds later, its wings softly whooshed through the air above us.

I shifted on my feet, restless and nearly aching with need. Even though I could feel the cool air on my skin and hear the sounds of the breeze rustling through the trees and the call of another bird somewhere in the darkness nearby, I forgot where we were. Everything narrowed to Wyatt, to the feel of his hard, muscled body pressing against mine.

The cotton scrubs I had on were thin and loose. When I moved again, my hips instinctively arched toward him. His hand slid down my side, his thumb brushing across the tight peak of one of my nipples.

His gaze never broke from mine. He shifted back incrementally, just enough for him to slide his hand under the hem of my shirt and behind the not-sexy-at-all scrubs. There was no preliminary teasing. His fingers dipped right down into my cotton panties, sliding into my slippery wet folds. I bit my lip, crying out when he grazed the flat of his fingers over my clit where it was pressed outward, swollen and needy.

Wyatt's eyes were dark on mine. My lips were parted as I stared back at him. His fingers slid deeper into me. I moved my feet apart, just enough for him to sink two fingers inside. The friction created by me standing while he pumped his fingers into me was beyond intoxicating. My orgasm was already waiting. I was toeing the edge of pleasure coming in sharp little bursts as he pumped his fingers in and out. "Sweetheart, you feel so good," he whispered against my cheek.

"Wyatt…" I pleaded on a ragged breath.

My hips rocked up into his touch. His fingers stroked deeply, stretching me. With the heel of his hand sliding over my clit, I toppled over the edge. I cried out, my shoulder blades pressing against my car. I felt his thumb teasing over my clit, pushing the orgasm and the pleasure higher and higher as I shuddered against the car, one of my palms slapping against the side.

Without the car and one of his arms around my waist to hold me steady, I was certain I would've collapsed. My knees were wobbly and weak. All of me was shaking and trembling as the pleasure broke through me in rippling waves.

My climax eventually slowed, and he drew his hand out, making sure to tuck my panties into place and tighten the drawstring on my waistband. Just when I thought I couldn't be any more aroused, he lifted his hand and licked my arousal off his fingers. His eyes held mine the entire time. I could hardly breathe as I stared at him. My heart was pounding with a sweet tightening just above my belly.

My awareness sharpened, and I heard the breeze rustling in the trees again as I realized Wyatt had just fucked me with his fingers against my car just outside my house. I never lost control like this. Never . It belatedly occurred to me that I should be grateful his truck shielded us from the view from my father's house.

I distantly heard the sound of tires on gravel and realized my brother must've just turned into the driveway. I took an unsteady breath.

"We need to go in," I whispered.

Wyatt grabbed my things off his truck as I stepped away from my car. He reached for my hand, I heard my breath still coming in ragged gasps and the distant sound of an owl calling, followed by another. I was hot, through and through, and savored the cool night air on my cheeks.