Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

F or the last hour, we’ve done nothing but sit in my bed like this—my back against the wall, Peyton curled up between my legs, her body against my chest, head in the crook of my neck.

My mom is working the overnight shift at the hospital. She’s an admin, so she has been taking on any overtime she can to get us caught up on bills. I wish I could work to help her. I’ve offered, but it only makes her mad when I bring it up. My football practice is the priority, she always says. It would kill me to quit, but I would if it ever came down to it. I told Peyton that, and she simply shook her head and said quitting would kill my mom, too. She’s probably right.

I let Peyton talk about what happened when she was ready. And now she keeps apologizing as if she did something wrong. I’m the one fucking up her life . . . but I don’t think I can walk away. My dad always said I would know when I met someone who made me want to be all in. I thought he was corny, but he swore the feeling is real. It’s how he felt about mom the moment he met her.

You were right, Dad.

“I’m sorry about this.” She keeps saying those same words.

“ Shh ,” I hush, my mouth at her ear.

“Would it help if I said you could ride on our float with me? It’s just a Ford F-450 with a bunch of hay stacked in the back and Christmas taped to the sides, but I think it’s the tallest thing in the parade.” I’d have to kick Whiskey off, but I bet he’d step down for Peyton.

Her head rolls against my chest as she gazes up at me.

“You think me riding on the rival float is going to cause less of a stir?”

I smirk and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Probably not.”

She reaches up and places her palm along my jaw, then runs her thumb along the fresh scar on my upper lip. It’s smaller than I thought it would be.

“I really think your dad is trying to protect you,” I say, my mind immediately going to the two guys I had a run-in with at Jack’s while she was working.

She exhales, her eyelashes flickering as she stares out into the center of my room. It’s dim in here, the LED lava lamp I got for Christmas two years ago casting a purple glow. Lately, the low light helps me sleep.

“I know you’re right. But still . . .”

I run my hand through her hair once, then tip her chin back up so I can look her in the eyes.

“You wish he asked you.”

She nods at my response. I know that’s the part that hurts the most.

She shifts against me, reaching across my body to her phone that I fetched from her Jeep an hour ago. She still hasn’t turned it back on, so I hold my breath as she does now. It buzzes to life with dozens of notifications, but she ignores them all. Instead, she opens her music app and starts a playlist.

The first song is Whiskey’s anthem, and we both laugh as she fumbles to pick her phone up again and skip ahead.

“Whiskey is not the mood I’m going for,” she says, the next song still a bit country, but softer and maybe a little bluesy.

“I like this,” I say, hugging her tighter and looking over her shoulder at the list of songs.

“Chris Stapleton. He’s one of my favorites,” she says, reaching back across me to set her phone on my nightstand.

“Ah, yeah. My dad listened to him a lot.” My heart soothes with the sudden memory.

Peyton slides back into place but pivots to her hip, resting her hand on my chest so she can better look me in the eyes.

“Tell me about him.”

I’m flooded with so many feelings all at once, and I’m not sure where to start. But the mere thought of bragging about him to a girl I’m falling for feels really good.

“He taught me, basically, everything I know. How to fry an egg. How to throw a spiral. How to change the oil on that truck.” I lean my head in the direction of the garage.

“He teach you how to talk to girls?” she asks with a soft laugh.

My smile goes crooked as I recall the times he tried.

“He did his best. But I wasn’t exactly a good student. I’m kind of shy.”

Peyton laughs out, pushing against my chest and shifting so she’s on her knees, sitting in front of me.

“What?” I hold on to her wrists, her palms flat against my chest.

“I wouldn’t classify you as shy, Wyatt Stone.” She drops her chin and dims her eyes, her stare suspicious.

“Really? Because those first few times I talked to you scared the shit out of me,” I laugh out.

Her head tilts and her eyes widen.

“No way! You didn’t seem nervous.”

“Well, I was. You’re clearly the hottest girl in town, and here I am this nobody from the city coming in all broken and full of dreams and shit.”

She bats her lashes and bites her bottom lip, then leans in, resting her forearms on my chest.

“Hottest girl in town?”

My lip tugs up, and she can’t see my coloring thanks to the purple light, but I know my cheeks are red.

“Definitely,” I say with a nod.

She leans in closer, her nose grazing mine, and I slide my hands up her body until they’re both tangled in her hair. Our mouths hover an inch apart, and I nip at her bottom lip a few times, wanting more of it.

“Hey, Wyatt?” she whispers.

“ Hmm? ” I nip again, snagging her bottom lip between mine and sucking lightly before letting go.

“You aren’t broken. And your dreams . . . you’re going to reach them.”

My right hand weaves deeper into her hair and I coax her head back just enough to meet her gaze. She has no idea how much her words just soothed me, how much she breathed life into me right now. I wish I had the right words in response, but all I can do is hold her gaze long enough that I hope she understands.

Unable to resist any longer, I sit up and pull her into me, my mouth crashing into hers with the hungry kiss I wanted to give her the first time we touched. Her hands shove my T-shirt up my chest and I pull it over my head, tossing it to the floor. I do the same with hers, and she wriggles out of her sports bra as soon as her shirt is gone. My palms slide along her smooth back as my tongue moves against hers, her nails digging into my shoulder blades.

I move my hands around her hips, lifting her and rolling on the bed so she’s lying flat. I hold myself above her, my arms caging her as I kiss my way from her mouth down the curve of her neck to the ripe peaks of her breasts. I flick her nipple with my tongue and she arches in response. The way I make her move, the way my touch seems to turn her on, makes me flex beneath my sweatpants. I’ve been hard most of the night, and I’m sure she felt it while I held her. But now, my dick aches.

My mouth trails down the center of her stomach to her navel, and I dare to slide the front of her shorts an inch lower to kiss her there. She lifts her hips, and I glance up to meet her eyes as she nods, her bottom lip caught in her teeth. I lower myself against her and brace my weight on my elbows so my fingers can hook into the band of her shorts. I roll them over her hips, then pull them from her legs. Her white panties are low on her hips, and the cotton narrows into a thin strip as it curves between her legs.

I lick my lips as I glance up her body to her face, her eyes closed and her arms resting above her head. She draws her knees up halfway, and I take the invitation to press my palms on the insides of her thighs, sliding them closer and closer to her center until my right index finger strokes her over the cotton.

“Ah,” she gasps, arching her back again and tilting her head even farther back. I run my finger over her swollen middle again, and this time she hisses. Careful not to rush things, I tease her along the side of the cotton strip until finally getting the nerve to slip my finger underneath. Her sensitive skin is swollen and wet, and she rolls her hips as I tease her gently, drawing languid circles around her before slowly sinking one finger inside of her. She whimpers, and I begin to pull my finger back, but her hand quickly covers mine and urges me to touch her deeper.

Feeling all of her, I slide down slowly with my hand never once leaving her, until my mouth is inches away from kissing where she aches. Tugging the cotton to the side, I press my lips to her pink skin, then move my tongue along the same path my finger took before. Her legs pull in, squeezing around my head before she opens them wider, inviting me in.

I press my cock against the mattress to ease the ache and keep myself focused on her. My hands work her panties down her hips and she pulls one leg out at a time while my gaze remains fixed on her incredibly sexy body. The thin trail of light brown hair leads to my new favorite taste.

When her hands dive into my hair and grip strands, I let go of some restraint and lick her with more force, pressing my tongue into her center, dipping it inside and sucking her in. I devour her for several minutes, her breath now a steady pant and her whimpers coming out more often and louder.

“What do you want?” I ask her, kissing her abdomen just above her dusting of hair.

She lifts her head, her eyes heavy with want, her mouth in a constant state of open.

“I want you,” she says, and my dick flexes again, so ready to give in.

“Are you sure?” I ask, already shifting to my knees. I grab myself over my sweatpants to satisfy my urgent need for relief. I’m not a fuck boy like a lot of the guys on our team—like Bryce Hampton. I’d like to make this last longer than ten seconds.

“Yes, Wyatt. I want to do this. So bad,” she whines.

I stroke myself over my pants again and hold her gaze for another second—until she nods—before reaching into my night drawer and pulling out the small box of condoms I never really thought I’d need so soon but oh so desperately hoped I would with her. One day.

Tonight.

I pull out a foil and tear it open with my teeth as I pull myself out with my other hand. My eyes are on Peyton’s, and I note every flicker of her eyes and dart of her tongue through her lips as she takes me in while I roll the condom down my shaft.

She stills herself as I adjust my position, moving until my tip kisses her center. The heat is instant, and I beg myself to take it slow. My cock in my hand, I paint her with it, stroking her center and coating myself in her wetness until I push halfway in.

“Oh, my God!” She arches her back as her hands fly to her sides and grip my blanket in her fists.

I pull back, not wanting to hurt her, then slide in again, deeper this time. Her whimper is soft. Sweet. I push in more, letting her adjust to me until I’m completely buried inside her. Rocking my hips, I slip out almost completely, before diving in again, this time faster—harder. And her whimper is louder.

Her knees lift, and as I rock in and out of her, she eventually wraps one of her legs around me, pulling me into her with each thrust and coaxing me deeper. My pumps are soon met with thrusts of her own, her hips rising to meet me with each push. Her hands reach up to cup my face, and I hover above her, waiting as her eyes open on mine and the softest, sexiest smile curves her lips.

Her breasts bounce with each thrust, and I lower my mouth to suckle them as I thrust faster. When I bite one of the raw tips, Peyton cries out but holds my head to her breast, lifting her torso to meet me and make it easier to access her. Holding her leg at my hip, I sink into her, putting more force into each pump as I drop my mouth to hers. Her teeth cling to my lower lip, and as her tongue passes along my skin, I feel myself on the verge of losing control.

“Come for me, Peyton. I want to feel you.” My voice is raw, my breathing ragged. I work my hips as hard and fast as I can, chasing each cry until she writhes beneath me, dropping her fist to her mouth, biting her knuckles with her teeth. Her entire body pulses around me and a second later, I fill the condom.

I push into her a few more times, wanting to be sure she feels every last thing. I want this to be what she dreams about tonight. I want to hold her until she falls asleep naked in my arms. I want to wake her with kisses at three a.m. and taste her until she comes again.

I want her to be happy. To never show up again with tears because of me. Though she says I’m not the cause, I know I am. But I want to be worth it. Worth the rumors and the shit-talking. Worth her giving up one of her favorite things, like riding on a float down Main Street. Because right now, I’d give it all up to make her happy.

I am all in.