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LIES, LIES, LIES

His kiss tastes like us.

I’m on his mouth and he’s on mine, and the taste is lewd and earthy and incredibly intimate. Coupled with the sound of his heartbeat racing in my ears, it’s overwhelming.

I start to shake.

Really, I’ve been shaking since Wyatt told me about his tattoo—the one I’ve never seen before.

“I had to keep you with me, I guess. In my own way.”

The Jack and Coke is more than a tattoo. It’s a confession. One that’s so sweet, that’s such a big deal for someone as locked up as Wyatt, that I can’t help but feel like he really does want me in a way I never thought he would.

He’s opening up bit by bit, and I never want him to stop.

I imagine that’s why I surrendered to the wildness in me just now, to the burning curiosity that I’d never dare show anyone else. His bravery made me want to be brave. And instead of being grossed out or turned off, Wyatt came in my mouth.

He was so into it—so intome—that he couldn’t control himself.

He was also really into the fact thatIwanted to tiehimup. I enjoyed it so much, so I figured he might too.

And now he’s kissing me deeply, gently, smoothing the callous pad of his thumb over the corner of my lips to clean me up.

He’s kissing me like we didn’t just engage in various levels of obscenity.

He’s kissing me like hecares.

This kiss—it tastes like love.

My pulse seizes, my knees going weak as the longing in my center takes on a sharp edge.Could this be love?

Could the tattoo, the honesty, the possessiveness, and the really great oral sex add up to Wyatt being in love with me the way I’m in love with him?

My heart turns over. Separately, those facts don’t mean a lot. Well, the tattoo kinda does, but Wyatt has a lot of tattoos. Those facts taken together, though—I mean, is Sawyer right? Wyatt does have that sunrise tattoo on his forearm. Could that also be a nod to the nickname he has for me?

It has to be.In my gut, I know he got that ink for me.

Holy shit, does Wyatt want more too? But he said this was just sex. Could he have been lying through his teeth the way I was in that moment?

I don’t know, but I kiss him back anyway. What else can I do? I could kiss this man for hours, for days, and still not get my fill.

I already know it’s going to make leaving Texas suck that much more. Today has been perfect. The kind of day I’d dream about while I was stuck inside studying, or doing rounds at the animal hospital at Ithaca University. All day, I’ve had this gut-deep feeling that I’m exactly where I should be.

I loved having coffee with Wyatt. I loved riding with him. I loved working cattle together and being with his brothers.

Wyatt nips at the corner of my mouth, arcing his thumbacross my cheek. I’m learning kissing chemistry is real, it’s rare, and Wyatt and I have it in spades. It’s the best stress relief. Best way to spend a Saturday afternoon. And a Friday night. And hopefully some part of Sunday too.

Jesus, I already want to see him again, and I haven’t even left yet.

I want to stay. Spend the rest of the afternoon and evening with him. If we were still just friends—only friends—Iwouldstay.

Then again, if we were just friends, I probably wouldn’t have come over to Lucky River Ranch today in the first place. My never-ending to-do list would’ve definitely won out over having coffee with Wyatt on his front porch.

The fact that we becamemorethan friends is why I’m here at all. It’s terrifying to think about what we’re risking. But also a thrill to ponder what I’m gaining by putting myself out there like this. I feel like I’m actuallylivinginstead of working, or preparing, or organizing, or answering emails, or doing any of the one million tedious tasks that typically fill my days.

I don’t know what Wyatt and I would do for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Hang at his place maybe? Shower together, watch TV, have lots of mind-blowing sex?

All I know is I want to be with him.