by Lee Kilraine
I let my lips meander down the soft skin of her throat where her pulse beat like a bumblebee’s wing. I traced her collarbones with my fingers, not even caring that they shook with need. My hands cupped her breasts and my eyes held hers. “Beautiful.”
After planting a kiss on her lips, I moved down and kissed the soft skin of her breasts, sucked her nipple into my mouth hard, and loved every gasp and cry from her throat. I felt her fingers slide through my hair to my scalp, loving every stroke, wanting more. She scraped her nails along my shoulders, and I got so hard I thought I’d explode.
I clenched my jaw until I had full control, then kissed my way to her soft belly, down to her heat. She was liquid honey and sensitive to my every touch. I licked her in long, slow strokes, taking my sweet time, since the slower I went, the faster she panted and the more her fingers sank into my skin.
She shattered; a soft, sexy moan wrapped me up and pulled me under. I was more than happy to go.
“Please, Wyatt. I need you now.”
I pushed up from the bed, looking down at her flushed and glowing as I shucked my jeans. “God, Rhia, you should see yourself. You take my breath away.”
“Wyatt, I’m giving you till the count of three to get that condom you mentioned out and on. I can’t take any more, you hear me?” She jackknifed up in bed, reaching her hands for me, running her lips along my ribs and stomach. “You’re pretty fit for someone who sits at his desk all day.”
“I don’t sit behind a desk all day. Only the parts you see.” I ripped open the condom with my teeth, rolled it on, and knelt back on the bed, my knees straddling Rhia’s hips, holding her captive so I could start building the fire from the beginning again.
“What are you doing? I’m ready, Wyatt! Right now!”
“I like to be thorough.” I caressed my hands along her shoulders and ran my lips down her neck. “I like to double-check my work.” I licked the side of her breast before sucking her nipple hard into my mouth as her breath whooshed from her lungs. “Go over everything again, making sure it’s ready to wrap up.” I kissed my way across to her other breast, touching every part of her softness with my hands. “I like to make sure each job I do represents my best work.” I stroked my hand down into her folds, circling her clit with a slow touch.
“Wyatt…” Her hand wrapped around my cock. She positioned me at her entrance and leaned up to kiss me. With her lips against mine she said, “I’m begging you. Now, Wyatt. I can’t take anymore. Now.”
I slid inside her, slowly, wanting this moment to be one we could savor. One I could replay in my mind on repeat. I kissed her, my lips hard on hers, my tongue searching her sweetness as my cock slid home.
“You feel perfect.” She did.
Slowly moving, living each stroke in the moment, her eyes locked on mine. Into her. Deep. Listening to her breath, knowing when she needed more. Less. Holding back until she was ready…demanding more…needing us together…and then staying with her, breath for breath as we found our peak…and floated down. Together.
Chapter 15
Rhia
“Oh…wow. That was…”
“Please don’t say nice.” Wyatt lay next to me in bed, staring at the ceiling.
“I was going to say amazing, bordering on mind-blowing.” I had my head on Wyatt’s chest, enjoying the steady, slow heartbeat in my ear.
“You were pretty damn amazing yourself,” he said, his arm circled me, and his hand ran down my ass to rest on my hip. “Do you have glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling?”
“I do. It’s silly but they remind me of my nona. She used to tell me every star was different like snowflakes, and I should shine in my own way.” When Nona was alive, I felt like I knew who I was. After she passed away, I lost myself, and I’d been searching ever since. I knew my family loved me, but they loved me for who they wanted me to be. Nona loved me for who I was.
“Wyatt, how did you get to be so nice?”
“Crap. I knew you’d work that word in here eventually. I hoped it wouldn’t be while I was naked.”
“Nice isn’t a dirty word, you know.”
“It kind of is.”
“No. And it’s also not mutually exclusive with, say, ‘hot’ or ‘sexy as hell.’”
“Oh, okay, now we’re talking.”
“Personally, I think nice is in short supply in our world today.”
“Still don’t want to hear it while I’m lying next to you naked after giving you some of my best moves. Only some, mind you…”
“Why would you hold out on me?”
“So, I have something to entice you with later. You’ll be like, ‘yes, my time in the sack with Wyatt was nice, but he’s got moves I haven’t seen yet, and I’m going to want to see them. Correction—I’m going to need to see them.’”
I smiled at him. My big, wide, this guy-is-friggin-adorable-and-sexy smile. Because he was. “Well, what do you know… You’re the absolute quietest guy in the office, but you, Wyatt Thorne, are a talker in bed. Do you ever do dirty sex talk? Because I’ve never had that, but I think I’m going to want to hear it. Correction—I’m going to need to hear it.”
Oh my. His lips slid into a wicked grin so hot it sent heat surging between my legs. I bit my lip to stop from moaning.
“Well, I’ll tell you. I’m saving the dirty talk for later, but I’ll give you a preview.” He rolled forward, his body hard against mine and his mouth next to my ear, close enough to lick and scrape his teeth along my skin. “It took everything I had not to wrap the flames of your hair around and around my fists and pull just hard enough to hold you down and fuck you hard. My cock in your heat. Next time? Count on it.”
That time I did moan. And leaned forward and bit his shoulder. “We should go eat that pizza you brought before I beg you to follow through on that dirty talk tonight.”
Wyatt pulled his clothes back on, and I slid into my comfortable old sweatpants, my Monty’s Pharmacy T-shirt, and my bunny slippers.
In the kitchen, I placed the pizza on a pizza stone and slid it in the oven under low broil to heat up.
“You want to grab us something to drink?” I asked as I moved around the kitchen, setting out the glasses, plates, napkins, and pepper flakes.
“Sure.” Wyatt opened the fridge and listed off the options: milk, beer, wine, seltzer water, and grapefruit juice. “You actually drink this stuff?”
“What stuff?”
“Grapefruit juice.”
“Yes. I mean, not with pizza, but yes. Love it. To be honest, I sort of taught myself to like it when I was little because my brothers and sister hate it, so that way they wouldn’t drink it and leave me none.” I shrugged and made a face. “You’ve got brothers. You know how that works.”
“Tell me about it. We’ve all got a thing for food because of the way we grew up.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sometimes, we had no food in our house and wouldn’t eat for a couple days.”
“Oh, Wyatt.”
“Whatever. It happened. Usually on the weekend, since we qualified for free meals in school, but we each have a tendency to overeat or horde food. Not that proud of it, but it just is.”
“Totally understandable.” And heartbreaking, but he didn’t want my pity. Didn’t need my pity. The Thorne brothers had somehow taken the worst life had thrown at them and succeeded in spite of it. Very impressive.
“Smells like the pizza’s ready,” Wyatt said with a nod to the oven.
“Oh! I forgot it was in there.” I grabbed it out in the nick of time, thanks to Wyatt. I dished some slices onto plates, and Wyatt poured us glasses of cold milk. “You sure you don’t want a beer?”
“I’m not a huge drinker, to tell you the truth. Couch or table?”
“Couch. So, a sister, huh? It must have been a shock to find out you have a sister. Have y
ou talked with her yet?”
“Not yet. She doesn’t even know about us. It’ll take time for us all to get to know each other. She may decide she doesn’t like having six brothers.” He shrugged, acting like it didn’t matter to him one way or the other, but after the other day, I knew how very much his siblings and new sister mattered to him. The guy played it cool and buttoned-up, but he had a gooey marshmallow heart.
“What’s not to love about six protective older brothers?”
“You’ve got a couple. Do you appreciate yours? How much do you hate it when they get all up in your chili and go into protective-brother mode? Do you hate when they want to discuss every life decision you make from who you’re dating to what brand of toothpaste you buy?”
I blinked at him and shook my head. “Is that the kind of older brothers y’all are going to be?”
“I’m afraid so. We’re close-knit to begin with, but we’ve got twenty-three years of missing out on being Hope’s older brothers to make up for.”
I might have been a little bit jealous. And I guess it showed on my face because Wyatt lowered his pizza to look closer at me.
“Your brothers do all that, right?”
“Not so much, no. You’ve met my family.”
“They don’t check out the guys you date? Make sure they’re good enough for you?”
“No.” Although, they did do an informal IQ test to see if my dates were smart enough for the Hollis family, but not exactly what Wyatt was talking about.
“They don’t check how bald your tires are?”
“No, I do.”
“Check on how much you have left on your brake pads?”
“Uh uh.” My mechanic, Rob, did that.
“Huh. Well, maybe my brothers and I are throwbacks, but we look out for each other. You think Hope’s going to want us to be hands-off like your family?”
“I don’t know, but if she’s anything like Eli, I think she’ll let you know pretty quick.”
“Yeah, well, we don’t want to smother her with attention.” Wyatt coughed out a laugh. “But we’re pretty excited about having a baby sister. Too excited probably.”
Hope was a lucky girl.
Chapter 16
Wyatt
“Hey, Wyatt, where are you going?” I stopped short of leaving my office and turned back to Rhia, who sat behind her very feminine desk that didn’t fit into my décor at all. She looked bored. And gorgeous. But bored. Bored and gorgeous. Probably a bad combination.
“My brothers and I volunteer with a group of foster kids once a month, and since it’s nice today, we’re meeting them at the Y to play baseball and take them out for ice cream.” I didn’t mention that I needed to get away from her too. Too much togetherness was getting to me, and my mind was coming up with some very bad ideas about different ways Rhia and I could make use of the office. Together. “I’m clearing out of the office for a bit, so you’ll have a nice stretch of quiet time to work.”
“Ha! Wyatt, you don’t actually make much noise around the office. You might be the quietest man I’ve ever met. Besides, I’ve got nothing to do right now. I’ve made all two of my client calls. Made all my cold calls, and now I’m waiting around for people to hopefully call me back.” She sighed, her gaze flicking over to her drawer. “I’ve got nothing to do. I’m sort of…bored.”
“Why don’t you work on your book?”
“I already wrote today.” She blinked her eyes at me. “I told you that’s just for fun. I’m only allowed to write for thirty minutes a day. That’s my limit and I already finished for today.”
“Who said?”
“Who said what?”
“Who said you can only write thirty minutes a day?”
“I did. It’s self-imposed. Like I can only have one doughnut a week or I can only watch one TV show per viewing season.”
“For a free spirit, you sure have a lot of rules.” I would not have pegged her to be so stringent about things. Personality-wise, she was an extrovert. Everything about her was sort of free and out there. From her bright colored clothing to the way she walked with an energetic spring in her step.
“I simply find limiting some of the hobbies I love really helps me stay focused on my goals.”
“But you just said you’ve got nothing else to do. How would writing more, which you enjoy, be a bad thing?”
“Oh, poor deluded, Wyatt. If I drank one glass of wine because I enjoyed it, that would be fine, right?”
“Sure.” I’d come to expect that I often had no clue where Rhia was going with a conversation.
“Of course. A glass of red wine is even good for me. But if I drank twelve glasses, well, that would be bad, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah, that sounds like it could be very bad.” I was pretty sure twelve glasses of anything would be bad. Even milk. And I still had no idea why she couldn’t write ten minutes more. “But what if you only had two or, say you got crazy, three… That’s not so bad once in a while, is it?”
“You obviously haven’t seen me after two glasses of wine.”
“True.” And now that was on my bucket list. “But we were talking about writing. I don’t see how writing an extra thirty minutes can be bad for you.”
“Because thirty minutes becomes five hours, and then next thing I know, the day’s gone. No. I know my limits. I allow myself just my daily ration—you know, simply as a motivational tool and to get my creativity flowing so I’m ready to give everything to my business.”
I found her use of the word “ration” interesting. To my mind, people rationed two types of items: things necessary for one’s survival like food, water, or gasoline. Or things they treasured, like chocolate.
“Well, you obviously know yourself better than anyone.” She’d lost me in that twisted logic somewhere. And since I couldn’t even remember how we got into this conversation to begin with, I let it go. “So, I’ll see you la—”
“Can I come with you guys?” Pushing her chair back, she stood, smoothing her hands down her plaid pants, today the bright blue color of an Eastern Bluebird. “Honest, I can’t sit around here staring at my phone willing it to ring for one more minute. My business is dead in the water if I don’t start getting a few nibbles from all the cold calls and business cards I’ve sprinkled around town. Pretty, pretty please?”
Well, so much for getting some space from her. I couldn’t turn her down when she looked up at me with those huge blue-green eyes. Did I wish she was begging me for something else? Yes, yes I did.
“Sure. Nothing too exciting,” I warned her. Half of what we did with our foster kids was treat them to things they’d never experienced. But the other half was to do normal, everyday stuff with them too. Because dysfunctional families often had a fucked-up normal. “We’re just going to play a little ball and grab an ice cream cone after.”
“Sounds fun! I’m in.” She grabbed her purse and scooted out the door ahead of me, almost as if she was afraid I’d change my mind about letting her go with me.
“You said you’ve never played baseball.”
“It’s true. I didn’t even know sports existed until I joined my sorority in college.” She shrugged when I looked over at her. “I was raised by two scientists. We didn’t play any sports in my family. We went to science camp and to symposiums.”
“Sounds fun.” It really didn’t, and yet, it still beat the summers my brothers and I had.
“Right,” she said, and side-eyed me. “So, I might need some help learning to play ball, but just so you know, I’m an expert on eating ice cream.”
I spent the ten-minute drive to the YMCA, listening to Rhia expound on why some flavors of ice cream should never have been created. Namely spinach, dill pickle, and anything low-fat. Rhia’s opinions on ice cream thus far: Spinach ice cream? Just eat spinach. Dill pickle ice cream? It’s a sin against nature. Ju
st eat a darn dill pickle. Low-fat? Then what’s the dang point?
“What’s your favorite flavor, Wyatt?”
“I don’t know.” I pulled my truck into the Y’s parking lot, pulling in next to Gray’s sleek Audi. “I don’t eat ice cream very often.”
“You don’t?” Her head sort of did that Exorcist thing, and her eyes blinked at me in mild shock. And then her gaze slid from my face, down over my body, before slowly making the reverse trip. She sighed. “That explains why you’re so fit. I try to give up ice cream, so I can get in shape, but it calls to me.”
I exited the truck with a grin on my face and led Rhia toward the large building that housed the local YMCA. SBC had done some much-needed renovations on the place when we were just starting out and had too much time between jobs.
“You think I’m kidding? I’m not. Me and ice cream are on a first-name basis. I’ve made out with double-chocolate brownie chunk ice cream many a Friday night. And nobody should stand between me and a carton of Talenti Sea Salt Caramel gelato. Nobody. Just saying.”
I wouldn’t get in her way. Her shape looked damn fine to me. Hell, I’d step aside and watch the girl on ice cream action.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone who didn’t love ice cream. I believe you’re an anomaly, Wyatt Thorne.”
“Guess I just never developed a taste for it. Our dad didn’t spend money on junk food for us.” Nope. Most of his money went to buy his beer and bourbon. I felt my jaw clench like it did whenever my dad came up. We all made sure he hardly ever did. “I only had ice cream but a handful of times as a kid.”
“Did you and your brothers get to—”
“Wyatt! Oh, hey, Rhia.” Gray stood on the sidewalk a few steps away from the entrance. He gave Rhia a one-armed hug and then turned to me. “I think we’ve lost them for today. Wanda said she had to let them know about D’Andre this morning, and obviously, they took it hard.”
“What about D’Andre?” I knew he’d gone back with his family last month, and we’d all been a bit on edge. Some families can turn around and overcome the cycle of abuse. But many couldn’t. Shit, I didn’t want to hear this.
