Page 129 of Tempting Wyatt

“But Willow might?—”

“No,” I break in, bending to lift her over my shoulder for the second time tonight.

“Wyatt Logan,” she squeals. “We literally just talked about this.”

I huff out a breath as I march us toward my cabin. “No, baby.Youtalked about it. And don’t think I’ve forgotten your little secret from the first time I hauled you through the woods.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says.

“No? You don’t remember telling me that you liked it? Because you did, like it, and admit that you liked it.”

She goes quiet and I chuckle to myself. “That’s right, Hollywood. You might be a talker, but guess what I am? A damn good listener.”

I practically kick the door to my cabin open, setting her down once we’re inside. She glares at me and I kiss the ever-loving shit out of her. She tastes sweet like marshmallows and smooth like whiskey. The burn of her brings me to life in a way I’ve never felt.

I knew it would be like this, that I’d be frantic and feral and unable to be slow and soft like she’d probably prefer. Next time, I tell myself. Next time I’ll make sweet slow love to her like she needs. But right now, I’m lightheaded from how badly I need to be inside her.

Talker that she is, she moans through our kiss then launches into a disclaimer.

“Wyatt,” she breathes as we make our way to my bed. “There’s something we should discuss first. About my job and my?—”

“Maybe stop thinking for a little while, Hollywood.” Using my thumb I pull her lower lip free of her teeth.

“Easier said than done,” she admits as we reach the bed.

“How about you let me help you with that.”

I don’t know which one of us moves first, but when our mouths meet, she whimpers into mine.

I’m removing her clothes as we stumble toward my bed.

Shirt over her head, bra tossed aside. She laughs softly as I yank her boots off and toss them in the corner.

When I drop to my knees to lower her pants, I make the profound mistake of looking up into her beautiful face.

“I will never tire of seeing you on your knees for me, Wyatt Logan,” she whispers into the moonlit darkness.

The feverish need still burns beneath my skin, but the moment slows and I swallow hard.

“Good thing I’ll never tire of getting on my knees for you, angel.”

Placing a kiss on the bare skin of her smooth stomach, I peel her jeans off with both hands, taking her black lacy panties with them.

When she’s bared to me, I’m lost. In the sight, the scent, the feel of her. Overwhelmed with feelings I don’t have names for, I only kiss her entire body reverently until she’s squirming.

“Get on the bed, baby,” I tell her gently, moving her backward carefully, like she’s fragile and precious, because, here, tonight she is.

“You’re still dressed,” she breathes, but she does as I say.

“Patience, angel,” I tell her, just before I thrust my face between her thighs, burying my tongue inside her.

Her entire body rocks against me as I devour every delicious inch of her.

“Fuck, baby. You taste so damn good. I think I’m becoming addicted.”

She writhes and whimpers, her fingers digging into my scalp as I continue.

My hands reach her ass and squeeze. Damn, this ass torments me all day. Having it bare in my hands to do with what I please is a dangerous high.