13. Wyatt

Chapter Thirteen

Wyatt

It was a miracle I could even walk. My knees were shaky, and my entire body felt drawn tight with arousal. My swollen cock pressed painfully against my zipper.

Holding tight to Rosie's hand, I walked with her to her door. My need was pounding through me in a rolling beat that kept racing faster and faster. My mind was hazed, and I clung to strands of control threatening to break.

All I could think was, Rosie. More.

We stumbled inside, and I dropped her backpack and purse on the floor. I'd barely gotten the door closed behind me when she turned. Her eyes were dark, her hair falling loose from its lopsided ponytail. For the first time since I'd arrived, I took her in. Everything before this had been pure sensation.

She wore a pair of green scrubs with a jacket hanging half open. She didn't have a lick of makeup on. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes a deep green. It felt like staring into a forest.

I wasn't really thinking when her palm landed on my chest, and she pushed me back against the door. Knocked off balance, I stumbled slightly before my shoulders collided with the door.

I opened my mouth to say something just as she said, "Your turn."

The sly, teasing glint in her eyes sent a shot of blood to my aching cock. Her palm slid down my chest and over my abs. I distantly heard her keys falling to the floor, followed by a thump, which had to be her purse. Next thing I knew, her hands made quick work of the button, and zipper on my jeans. She moved boldly as her hand slid straight into my boxer briefs and curled around my length. She stroked me once, her eyes on mine. She bit her bottom lip, her lips curling into a small smile. I felt her thumb slide across my cock, swiping the come that was already rolling out.

I sucked in a deep breath, nearly desperate for air. "Rosie —" I bit out.

"Anything you want." She shoved my jeans down a little bit around my hips, still holding my cock as she freed it. "After I do this," she added as she leaned over and licked the tip of my cock, making a satisfied little hum in her throat.

My palm slapped against the door. Whatever I meant to say next became indecipherable with the low, ragged groan I let out. My head thumped against the door behind me when she sucked me into her mouth. My attention narrowed to the sensation of her teasing tongue gliding along the underside of my cock, the suction when she drew me deeply in her mouth, and the sound of the pop when she released me before sucking me in again.

"Fuck," I growled as I laced my fingers in her hair and held on while she proceeded to drive me closer and closer to the edge.

When I said her name, I was distantly shocked at my pleading. I didn't usually beg. But right now, I needed her to topple me over the edge. I needed the sweet relief.

She made that little humming sound in her throat in response as she sucked me in deep. That was enough. My climax rushed through me in a piercing jolt. I cried out, my release spurting into her mouth.

I was grateful for the door behind me. Without it, I doubted I would still be standing. Rosie slowly rocked back on her heels. After the force of my climax, the way she tucked me back in and buttoned my jeans gently was a stark contrast.

By the time I had gathered myself enough to think, she had stood and was leaning over to fetch her keys and purse off the floor before setting them on a small table beside her door.

She looked over at me. I already knew I loved her, but at that moment, it felt as if the emotions and intimacy between us were a living, breathing force. She lifted her chin a little. I felt like it was a small gift, but she didn't break eye contact. I could feel her vulnerability rippling just under the surface. She was so strong on the outside. Yet I knew the core that lay underneath was all the stronger for her vulnerability. It was that vulnerability I wanted to protect, to cradle close, and to cherish.

A growling stomach—not mine—snapped through the moment. Rosie rolled her eyes. "I'm starving. I usually forget to eat at work."

"I bet you do," I said softly.

She stepped back, a small smile teasing the corners of her lips. "You don't need to tell me that I should make sure to eat at work. I know I should."

"I wouldn't dream of pointing that out." My tone was dry.

"Are you hungry?" she tossed that question over her shoulder when she turned and began walking from the small living room area toward the kitchen.

My gaze circled about her place. I'd been in here before, but I hadn't taken the time to look around. I knew her father had rented this place out for many years. This small place was just about perfect for one or two people. Although it was dark outside now, I knew the living room windows were oriented to face toward the harbor. There was an efficiency propane stove in the corner with a comfortable-looking couch and an ottoman facing the television mounted on the wall.

The kitchen to the other side was small and cute with an arched window and a small built-in dining booth tucked into the corner. Opposite the kitchen were three doors, one which I knew led to Rosie's bedroom and bathroom. A small half-bathroom was off the living room and what I presumed was another bedroom to the side.

"Wyatt?" Rosie prompted.

My mind caught up to her question. "I have eaten, but I can always eat more." I glanced at my watch. "It's late, though. Please don't tell me you're going to offer to cook me something. That's not necessary," I said as I followed her lead and kicked off my boots in the shoe tray near the door.

She grinned. "I'm too tired to cook. I have one of those frozen pizzas that I could make. Or is that beneath you?" She waggled her brows as she stood in front of the freezer.

"I'm a guy. Frozen pizza is not above me. When I was firefighting, I lived off freeze-dried food."

"Yeah, but your family has a really good restaurant, and they make kick-ass pizza."

"Well, let's order some. It'll probably be here by the time your frozen pizza cooks," I pointed out. I was already sliding my phone out of my pocket and lifting it to make a call.

"Wyatt, you don't have to do that," Rosie began.

As the phone rang in my ear, I caught her eyes. "It's pizza, Rosie. Just pizza. The delivery guy isn't going to spread any rumors."

"What if?—"

Before I could respond, someone answered the call. "Fireweed Restaurant, can you hold, please?"

"Of course."

As soon as the hold music began to play in my ear, I replied to Rosie. "They're not gonna gossip. They're going to deliver pizza, and it's really good. It will be here faster than it takes your frozen pizza to bake." I paused, listening to the music. "They need to change this," I muttered.

Rosie snorted before she turned and eyed the frozen pizza box she had pulled out of her freezer. "This says twenty-five minutes."

Before I could respond, the guy who had answered came back on the line. "Hi there, what can I get for you?"

"Hey, Dale, it's Wyatt. I don't normally pull rank, but I just told my friend that our pizza delivery time would beat the frozen pizza that is apparently supposed to take twenty-five minutes to cook. What are my odds of being right?"

Dale let out a dry chuckle. "Pretty good. We're busy, but our early rush is over. How far out are you?"

"Ten minutes, give or take a few."

"We can probably get it to you in fifteen or twenty. Unless your order is something complicated," he replied.

Glancing at Rosie, I mouthed, "What kind of pizza do you want?"

"Pepperoni and mushroom."

A woman after my own heart , I thought. I almost repeated it aloud before catching myself. "Pepperoni and mushroom. That's simple, I think," I said to Dale.

"We keep those prepped, so you're good."

"Tell the driver to drive fast and take chances," I teased.

Dale's laughter filtered through the line before he said, "Nope, but it'll make it in time."

"No matter what, I'm gonna give them a killer tip."

When I hung up the phone, Rosie rolled her eyes. She put the frozen pizza back in the freezer. "I hope your odds are good. We should bet," she added.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'll bet."

Her eyes narrowed. "You will?"

"Absolutely. If I win, I get a night with you. Whenever I want. On my terms."

Before she opened her mouth to respond, I added, "As long as you're in the mood and want whatever I want and accept my terms at the time."

She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. "Are you making sure this bet meets the standards of consent?"

"Sure am. I'm a modern man." My tone was light, but I was serious.

In a flash, the teasing mood shifted to sober as Rosie held my gaze. I watched as emotions danced in the depths of her eyes. "I don't like admitting this, but Wyatt Cannon, you just do it for me. I'm not worried about that. Ever."

Her words felt as if they slammed into my chest and gripped my heart as I stared back at her. I knew what it cost her to be open and vulnerable to me or anyone. Maybe I didn't understand all of Rosie's heart, but I knew what I felt. Perhaps someday she would trust me enough to help me understand her more thoroughly.

Emotion tightened in my throat, and I actually had to clear my throat to speak. "I'm honored with your trust. I promise I'll protect it."