14. Rosie

Chapter Fourteen

Rosie

Hours later, I lay in the darkness. Wyatt's words played on repeat in my thoughts, complete with his gruff, somber tone. I promise I'll protect it.

He had already told me he loved me, and my heart didn't know how to believe it. I was still shocked at the depth of my own feelings. I loved Wyatt. It seemed too fast as if I'd lost my balance running downhill. I'd known him as long as I could remember. He had always been in the periphery of my life as a person who was safe and one of my closest friends.

The memories from that fated week before I went to nursing school had been burned into my body and mind. I hadn't been able to forget him. Everything with him during that week had just been soooo good.

At the time, I chalked it up to it being my first really good connection with someone on a physical level. I'd been focused on leaving for nursing school immediately after that, and those distractions had crowded my emotions around Wyatt out of the way. I'd also been worried about my dad and my brother. My dad was obviously a perfectly capable adult, but when you're the oldest child of two, and your only parent works a lot because they have to, it's not unusual to slip into a caretaking role. I had worried deeply about my brother with me moving away from town.

As my thoughts started to detour onto that track, I slammed on the brakes and yanked the wheel back onto Wyatt. It said something that I'd preferred to contemplate telling Wyatt I loved him, then let myself dwell on my worries for my brother.

I shifted in bed. During that week years back, Wyatt and I had slept together almost every night. The sleeping part, that is, along with the super-hot sexy times. He'd slept flat on his back or curled up around me.

At this moment, he slept on his side with his palm resting on my belly. Even in sleep, his touch was comforting. He had strong, capable hands.

I flushed as I lay there in the darkness. All it took was a subtle shift of his palm, and nothing more than the minuscule friction created by his calloused touch was a turn-on. Everything about Wyatt was a turn-on for me.

My mind circled back to when the pizza arrived just barely past fifteen minutes after Wyatt ordered it. He'd teased that tonight could count for him winning the bet. I straightened one of my legs where my knee had been bent. I didn't mean to, but it woke him. I could feel the subtle buzz of energy slide through him as his hand moved in a slow caress across my belly before settling in the center again.

"What are you worrying about, sweetheart?" His voice was low in the quiet darkness.

My body hummed. I might as well have been a little cat purring in the darkness at nothing more than a brush of someone's fingertips under my chin.

"How do you know I'm worrying?" I hedged as my lips curled into a smile.

"I can practically hear you thinking."

I bit my lip, feeling bashful and grateful for the cover provided by the mostly dark bedroom. Maybe it was because it was the middle of the night. Maybe it was because my heart was determined to shout out my doubts for once, but the truth slipped out.

"I love you."

Wyatt went completely still. It wasn't as if he'd been moving much, but the silence suddenly became loaded, vibrating with emotions and our thoughts banging around inside our own heads and hearts.

He cleared his throat. "Well, you know I love you."

My heart pounded so hard I could hardly breathe. I managed a small sip of air before whispering, "That's what you said."

"Twice," he said, his voice low and clear. "For what it's worth, I think once is enough, but just in case you didn't hear me say it before."

I turned over, curling toward him to see his face better. "I heard you that night."

"So what's got you worrying about this in the middle of the night now?"

His eyes held mine, his gaze direct and holding a tenderness that nearly cracked my heart wide open.

I swallowed and cleared my throat. "Since we're being honest, it's what you said earlier about trust. I wanted to tell you I loved you then, but I didn't."

"You don't have to tell me anything. I hope you know that."

"I know. I want to." I let out something between a laugh and a sigh. "I think we did this all backward."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, we're already married."

His chuckle was low and sent warmth spinning around my heart. "We are. I knew that night I loved you. Since we're being honest, I'll admit I didn't plan that night. And before it all started, I didn't know I loved you in the sense of really consciously knowing. I just knew I'd never forgotten you after our week together. But life happened and all that. Once we were together again, I knew."

"So what do we do now?"

"I say we do what we said we were going to do. We see how this goes. I think we're both cynical enough to know that just because people are in love and married doesn't always mean things work out."

His honesty was spot-on, but it stung a little. Because the part of my heart that had finally shouted out above the cacophony of doubts and cynicism was feeling very hopeful. Of course it would all work out. Right?

My mind spun back in time to the nights I'd woken to hear my father's quiet sobs in the days after my mother died. Even when love bound people together, you couldn't trust that it would work out.

I was an action-oriented person. Now that I'd gone and thrown my feelings out there, I wanted to do something about them. The little girl who had lost her mom, that part of me wanted promises and certainty and guarantees. I wanted love, faith, commitment, and happily ever after.

"You're thinking again, Rosie," Wyatt whispered as he dipped his head and brushed a kiss on my lips.

I let out a sheepish sigh. I was thinking, and that tended to get in the way.

When I shifted a little, I became aware of two details. The arousal slick between my thighs and the velvety hard length of him where my knee brushed against it. Even when I wasn't focused on it, being naked with Wyatt set the banked embers of desire flickering inside.

"You can ignore that," he said.

I placed my hand on his heart, savoring its strong and rapid beat against my palm. "What if I don't want to?"

"In that case, sweetheart, you just tell me what you want."

The promise contained in his words was irresistible. My need trampled over anything else. If I was with anyone other than Wyatt, maybe this would've been different. But the desire between us was its own force and heightened by my love for him.

I shimmied a little closer and leaned up to press hot, open kisses on the underside of his jaw. His hand slid into my hair, and seconds later, he claimed my mouth. I felt like I tumbled into a sweet, fiery-hot fever dream. Our kisses were lazy and deep. I felt almost intoxicated, everything a slow blur. That was the effect Wyatt had on me.

One kiss slipped into the next. Wyatt's hands mapped my body, his touch, strong and sure. I molded myself to him, rolling over on top of him and savoring the slide of his palm down my back and the way he squeezed my bottom. He nipped at my neck and shivers raced down my side.

I had lost all sense of time when we finally broke apart, both of us breathing raggedly. I stared into his eyes in the hazy darkness. He whispered something. I couldn't even decipher the words, but I knew they were good.

He smoothed my hair away from my face, and I moved to rise. I straddled him, his hard length nestled against my slippery, wet core. He shifted back slightly, propping himself against the pillows.

"Fuck," he muttered.

"What is it?" I whispered.

"I need a condom."

He moved to lift me off him, but I cut in, "I have an IUD."

He stared at me, lifting a hand to palm my cheek. "Are you sure?"

"Oh, I'm very sure I have an IUD." I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

A glint of mirth entered his gaze as he studied me. "No, I meant, are you sure you don't want me to use a condom? That's a reasonable question," he pointed out.

I felt a little bashful as I looked back at him. "I am sure. I trust you, I mean, if…"

"To make it completely clear, yes, I trust you," he added.

My pulse raced along, a wild fluttering in my chest. It wasn't just my need for him that had my heart thumping so madly. It was this intimacy, this vulnerability, the way my emotional walls fell away when I was with him.

I drew in a shaky breath. His other palm slid down my back, coming to rest between my shoulder blades, just behind my heart as he levered me forward. My forehead fell to his when our lips met in a slow, sensual tangle of tongues. My hips reflexively rocked, sliding back and forth over the underside of his cock. With his length nestled between my folds, I rode my clit over him. The friction created by the subtle motion pushed me straight to the edge of my control with pleasure tightening inside me almost unbearably.

We broke apart, our lips brushing as he spoke, "Let me be inside you."

I nodded incrementally and rose slightly. He reached between us, positioning his thick crown at my entrance. I could barely breathe because of the anticipation humming through me. His hips moved, rolling up as I slid down and sheathed him in the very heart of me.

I seated myself fully, and he nudged upward a little deeper. With his eyes on mine and his hands gripping my hips, we rocked together. The intense friction created from the slow motion, right where we were joined, sent pleasure shooting through me in piercing streaks. He reached between us, his thumb teasing over my swollen clit with just enough pressure to shatter through me.

I cried out, shuddering and trembling all over. I felt liquid melting inside when he kissed me, catching the last of my cries.

He moved, somehow spinning us over and shifting down on the bed. It was quick and a little messy, but he never once lost his hold on me. I savored his weight. He stretched my arms up over my head, gripping them with one hand. He murmured, "And now I'm going to fuck you just a little harder, sweetheart."

"Okay," I whispered.

He did just that with deep pumps inside me. It felt as if my orgasm just went on and on and on. I felt him tightening, his body a shivering stretch above me, with one last slow pump of his hips before I felt the heat of his release filling me as he cried my name in a guttural shout.

He collapsed against me for several thundering beats of my heart before he rolled to the side, holding me close against him when he slipped out of me. We lay there, our breathing slowing together. My palm had landed just over his heart, and I could feel his heartbeat gradually slow along with my own.

"I love you, Rosie," he rasped. He pressed a kiss to my forehead and one on each corner of my mouth.

I dragged my eyes open. "I love you, Wyatt."

I didn't recall falling asleep, but the last thing I remembered was a sense of sheer relief. That was followed by a feeling of comfort and safety that I couldn't ever remember feeling, except maybe before my mom died.