8. Josie

8

josie

T here’s not a lot of things that I’m sure of right now. My feelings about Wyatt, the future, what all of this means for both of us.

But what I am sure of is that I want him.

Desperately.

God, I feel like I’m going to combust if I don’t feel his skin on mine, if we don’t finish what we’ve started. After that kiss the night at the Reindeer Games and then tonight’s moment in his truck that left me trembling with pent-up need, I feel like my body is on fire . Like it would only take one touch for every part of me to go up in a fiery inferno of desire.

I shut the front door behind me, flicking the lock shut, turning back to press myself against the cool wood. Wyatt’s massive body takes up so much space in my small, cozy living room as he bends in front of the unlit fireplace, adding another log inside of it.

Even with the heat on, there’s a slight chill hanging in the air, but right now, with the way that my skin is humming with anticipation, I can hardly even tell.

Wyatt never put his clothes back on after the Jingle Jump, too focused on getting me into his truck, and now that he’s standing here wearing nothing but a pair of tight swim trunks, my gaze moves over him in a slow perusal, drinking in every inch that I’ve missed since he’s been gone.

He’s raw masculinity.

Tall, broad, powerful, sculpted in ways that I can hardly even wrap my mind around.

He’s… gorgeous.

The defined muscles of his back seem to ripple as he moves the wood around inside the fireplace, and a jolt of desire pulses through me so hard that my breath catches.

I press my thighs together in an attempt to dull the throb that’s building between them, to no avail.

Wyatt’s gaze flits to mine, his mouth twitching when he sees me nearly panting against the front door.

It’s been… a while since I’ve been with anyone.

And truthfully, since he’s come back to town, I can’t even recall how many times I’ve gone back and forth in my head with this same scenario. I tried convincing myself it was a bad idea, tried to think of as many excuses as I could to talk myself out of it.

But everything kept coming back to the fact that I want him, and none of those excuses held up against the war with my heart and mind.

“C’mere, Josie,” he rasps. Those four syllables send a wave of goose bumps erupting along my flesh and a shiver traveling down my spine.

Swallowing down the tightness in my throat, I push off the door obediently, crossing the room one slow step at a time until I’m in front of him.

So close that I can see the newly lit flames from the fireplace dancing in his bourbon-colored irises, which are framed by dark lashes. His eyes seem to smolder, just like the fire.

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this moment?” he breathes, reaching out and sweeping the rough pads of his fingers along the bare skin of my shoulder, slipping beneath the strap of my bikini top. “How many times in the last two weeks that I’ve come with your name on my lips? I’m fucking crazy about you, Josie.”

Oh God.

Slowly, he tugs the strap off my shoulder, then repeats the motion with the other, never lowering his gaze, never taking his eyes off mine, and somehow, that only makes the simple movement so much more intense. More intimate.

More… something that I’m too afraid to admit to myself.

Ignoring the swell in my chest, I step forward and slant my mouth over his as I lift up on my tiptoes and tangle my fingers in the hair along his nape, unable to last another second without touching him.

The frantic desperation that we felt in the truck earlier has been reignited, and his rough hands are suddenly everywhere, sliding down the bare, heated skin of my back, his fingers dancing along the notches of my spine, down to the curve of my ass, where he groans against my lips, low and deep.

Like he couldn’t help the sound vibrating out of him, an involuntary reaction to the feel of me in his hands.

Quite possibly the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.

His tongue sweeps between my open lips, demanding access, stroking and flicking against mine in a way that I feel all the way from my throbbing clit to the tips of my toes, a full-body reaction to simply being kissed by this man.

The tips of his fingers dig into my ass as he effortlessly lifts me off my feet. My legs wrap around his waist, and I feel his hard erection brushing against my aching core, causing me to whimper.

My entire body feels like a live wire, and I have no doubt that a few touches from Wyatt would send me over the edge. My fingers curl into his hair, tugging when his teeth scrape along my bottom lip.

With each breath, his lips trail along the edge of my jawline, down to my neck, where his tongue flicks out, sucking at the sensitive skin of my pulse point.

Lower.

And lower.

He kisses a path along my body to my chest, dragging his tongue along my skin as he tastes me. My eyes flutter shut, heat flooding my lower belly as he trails lower and lower until he meets the heaving swell of my chest.

Only then do my eyes fly open, connecting with his hooded gaze as he closes his lips over my nipple through the fabric of the bikini. Even with a barrier, it has me moaning breathlessly, tugging tightly at the strands of his hair, my back arching and pushing myself further into his mouth.

I feel the rough scrape of his teeth over the taut, impossibly pebbled peak, and my head swims.

“Wyatt,” I whimper, hardly recognizing my own voice, which is heavy with need. I twine my fingers tighter in his hair as he lowers us to the thick rug before the fireplace and spreads me out beneath him. His heated gaze rakes over my body in a way that has me pulsing, heart racing, head dizzy with need.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs quietly, lifting his eyes to mine.

I feel the same about him.

Drawing my swollen bottom lip between my teeth, I reach for him, placing his hands back along the expanse of my stomach and slowly sliding them higher until his big, rough palms are cupping my breasts.

The eye contact between us is so intense that it makes me ache between my legs and somewhere beneath my breastbone.

“Touch me, Wyatt.”

I watch as the thick column of his throat bobs, the muscles of his shoulders tight with restraint. But I don’t want him to be restrained. I want the uncontrolled Wyatt. The one I’ve never experienced.

“Don’t hold back. Please ,” I whisper thickly as I trail my fingers along the hard plane of his stomach, ghosting them along the dips between his abs, lower until I’m brushing along his cock, which is impossibly hard beneath the swim trunks.

He hisses, a low grunt vibrating out of his chest when I curve my palm over his length.

God, he’s… so much bigger than I remember?

Wyatt’s hips fit between my thighs as he slips his hand beneath my back and deftly unties my bikini top, pulling it free and tossing it to the side.

“ Fuck ,” he drawls, his blown pupils raking along my chest at the same time he cups my breast in his palm, rolling the taut, pebbled peak of my nipple between his fingers. “You were made for my hands, honey.”

The words wash over me, praise that I never knew I sought until now.

Lowering his mouth, he closes his lips around my nipple, sucking the bud deep and flicking the sensitive peak with this tongue until I’m nearly panting beneath him.

Until I’m delirious with need, my head dizzy from the delicious assault of his mouth along my skin.

Wyatt blazes a path down my stomach, leaving hot, wet kisses along my skin until he makes it to my navel, dipping his tongue in and then dragging it to the waistband of my bikini bottoms.

My heart is thrashing in my chest in sync with the wild, erratic pounding of my pulse.

Part of me can’t even believe this is happening right now. But an even bigger part of me is just thankful that it is. That I get this experience with Wyatt no matter what happens after tonight.

I refuse to let my head really go there right now, instead forcing my attention to the man who’s hovering over me, heat burning in his honey-steeped eyes.

With his gaze pinned on mine, he presses soft, achingly tender kisses along the inside of my thighs, moving closer and closer to my throbbing core.

God, I’ve never wanted something as badly as I want Wyatt’s hands on me, his mouth, his fingers, all of him.

When his lips ghost along the damp fabric of my bikini, my back arches from the rug, and he lets out a nearly pained grunt.

“Already wet for me, honey?” It doesn’t seem like he’s asking a question, more making an observation, but I find myself nodding anyway, watching as his pillowy lips tug upward in a devastating smile. “What a good girl.”

My clit throbs at the praise. I’m not even sure when it became something I liked this much.

But then again… this is Wyatt .

There’s a soft brush of his lips as he hooks a finger in the string of my swimsuit bottoms and, with one tug, has the strings falling free, leaving me completely bare for him. The heat from the fire warms my skin, but it’s nothing like the inferno that’s building inside of me.

His admiring gaze moves over my core as his lips part, and his tongue wets his lips.

Is there anything more attractive than a man staring at the most intimate part of you while looking as if he could devour you whole?

Wyatt’s fingers sweep along my already wet center as he spreads me open and rasps, “Pretty and perfect as I remember.”

Lowering his mouth to me, he slowly flicks the tip of his tongue over my clit, my back bowing completely off the rug.

And then he flattens his tongue and drags it through my wet center in the most torturously slow way I’ve ever experienced.It’s maddening, the unhurried way he’s taking his time, savoring it, lapping at me until my hands are flying to his hair and tugging roughly at the strands in desperation to hold on to something, to ground myself. To bring my head back from the clouds I feel as if I’m currently floating on.

Holy… crap.

“Oh… God,” I pant, my voice wavering as the words break. “ Wyatt …” A handful of ragged syllables strung together.

His low chuckle vibrates against my wet core, sending another heady burst of pleasure soaring through my already heavy limbs. “Watch me eat your pretty little pussy, honey. Watch me eat you like I’ve dreamed about doing for so fucking long.”

I manage to keep my eyes open if only to drink in the sight of this beautiful man fitted between my legs, my thighs thrown over his broad, tan shoulders, and his tongue buried inside of me.

My hips squirm when he circles my entrance with his fingers and slowly, inch by inch, sinks two of them inside me at the same time he swirls his tongue on my clit. I raise them to meet the pace of his fingers, the flick of his tongue, pulling him against me by his hair in a way that I worry I might hurt him, but his growl of approval is all that I need to know that he is just as lost to this as I am.

I watch Wyatt slip his other hand into the front of his swim shorts and palm his cock, slowly pumping his fist.

It’s so erotic, watching him be so turned on from just tasting me and giving me pleasure.

The tug in my lower belly pulls taut as my orgasm builds, and Wyatt never stops the sweep of his tongue. He sucks my clit and licks me through every second of the intense pleasure throbbing through me.

“Don’t stop,” I plead deliriously.

All it takes to send me spiraling into the most powerful orgasm of my life is him closing his lips around my clit and sucking, alternating pressure. He strokes the spot inside of me that has my toes curling on his shoulders and tiny black spots dancing behind my eyes that are squeezed so tightly shut my head swims.

“Wyatt, Wyatt, Wyatt,” I chant on a desperate breath, my legs beginning to tremble as my core tightens and clenches, my mind spinning as I give myself over to my climax.

“That’s my girl,” he pauses to whisper against my heated flesh. “So fucking good for me, Josie. Soaking my tongue, coating my beard with your cum.”

His filthy words, something new present-day Wyatt excels at, wash over me as the aftershocks of my orgasm pulse through me. He never stops, wringing every ounce of pleasure out of me until I’m limp, completely sated and boneless.

And then he rises above me, a wolfish grin on his too-handsome face, and murmurs, “Give me another , honey.”