Page 132 of Tempting Wyatt

I stand, pulling her to me. “Tell me I can fuck you bare, baby.”

Her eyes are as frantic as I feel. Wild. “I get tested regularly, but my ex wasn’t exactly faithful, so I understand if?—”

Fuck that asshole. I sink myself inside of her, completely bare. It’s a risk. I know that. But there isn’t anything I wouldn’t risk for this woman.

“Fuck, baby,” I grit out as her pussy milks me hard and fast. She’s meets me thrust for thrust, bouncing up and down, impaling herself on my cock while I grip her ass. “Tell me you’re on birth control, sweetness. Tell me I can fill this perfect pussy.”

She nods hurriedly. “IUD. Come inside me, Wyatt.”

I dig my fingers into the flesh of her ass. “I love this greedy fucking cunt. Take it, baby. Take all of me.”

With a battle cry that erupts from deep in my chest, my release comes hard and quick, filling every inch of the space inside her.

I hold her body to mine, relishing in the sheen of sweat that covers us both.

She smiles shyly up at me. The most beautiful woman in the entire world, my angel.

“We made a mess,” she says with a soft sigh against my shoulder as I carry her back to the bedroom.

“Sweetest damn mess I’ve ever made.”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

ivy

I’M COZY AND WARM IN THE DEEPEST sleep of my life, when the knocking begins. I decide to ignore it. Until it gets so loud it sounds like it’s hammering directly into my skull.

Rousing myself from a deep sleep in Wyatt’s bed, I note that I’m naked and it’s not the best idea to open the door this way.

The knocking increases in intensity as I yank on Wyatt’s flannel from the floor, buttoning it over my thoroughly sated body as I pad barefoot to the front door, the cold wood creaking under my feet.

When I open the door, Isaac’s standing there, arms crossed, looking far too alarmed at this early hour.

“You have a visitor. Up at the house,” he says simply, jerking his head toward where his truck his idling. “Maybe, uh, put some pants on. Wyatt’s already about to blow a gasket.”

I’m not awake enough for whatever this is. “Isaac, if this is your idea of a prank, I’m really not?—”

“Some straitlaced fucker in a suit is here, asking for you,”he bites out. “Says he’s your fiancé.”

I wince.Oh God.

It hits me instantly that this is my fault. I used my debt card for the cabin reservation and Malcolm insisted on having a joint account when we moved in together. He must’ve used it to track me down.

He has obviously lost his mind. And now Wyatt is going to lose his. I should’ve told him—about my job, about my broken engagement. I should have come completely clean before we slept together. But it’s too late, and now it will all be out there in the worst way possible.

I throw on some jeans, use the bathroom, brush my teeth, and splash water on my face at warp speed. My hair looks exactly like Wyatt spent the night tangling his fingers in it—because he did. I tie it up in a messy bun and practically sprint to where Isaac is waiting in the truck.

We bounce along the trail at high speeds until we reach the driveway to the main house. I don’t wait for Isaac to open my truck door. I bolt from it as soon as he parks.

A Bentley is in the driveway. Malcolm must’ve flown here and rented it. He leans against the sleek black car, eyeing someone warily across the yard, looking self-important in his tailored suit, like he has any damn right to be here.

And then I seehim.

Not Malcolm.

Wyatt.

Standing at the edge of the driveway, arms crossed, jaw tight, the muscle in his cheek ticking like he’s one breath away from losing his shit. I don’t make eye contact, but I can feel his rage from here.