Page 135 of Tempting Wyatt

Instead of grabbing the device, Malcolm fails to read the room and grabs my wrist.

“You’ve wasted enough of my time already. I’m not leaving until you sign.”

Before I can respond, a blur of denim and flannel passes between us, and instantly my wrist is free.

“Probably best to keep your hands to yourself, slick,” Wyatt growls, moving Malcolm backward with a hand on his chest. “Let me help you to your car.”

Isaac is close behind, but Malcolm is a moron who doesn’t see the danger he’s in.

“I don’t need help. I’m not leaving until she?—”

“Oh, you’re leaving. Question is, are you going home or to the hospital?”

Wyatt’s voice is eerily calm, neutral, like it doesn’t matter to him either way. But his eyes are wild. His neck veins throb like they’ve developed a life of their own, and I half expect him to Hulk out any second.

I see the threat register in Malcolm’s expression. He shrinks back toward his car. Wyatt grips his upper arm and practically drags him to the driver’s door.

“Get your damn hands off me. This isn’t the Wild West, you fucking lunatic.”

Isaac grins. “You sure about that, pal? Might want to check your GPS.”

Wyatt is still radiating rage as he all but shoves Malcolm into his car. I watch as he leans down and says something low and indecipherable directly into his face. Malcolm flinches and slams his car door shut before tearing off down the driveway.

When Wyatt stalks toward me, I keep my gaze on his.

He has some anger to work off, and I’m hoping he plans to do it with me in his bed. Or anywhere really. It might get awkward for Isaac, but this man could have me here and now in the driveway if he wanted.

He reaches me and touches my wrist gently. The tenderness in his eyes is a stark contrast to how he looked at my ex only a moment ago. “You okay?”

“I’m okay.” I meet his concerned gaze. “But you’re showing all your cards, rancher.”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

wyatt

“SO THAT GUY, HUH? That’s your type?”

Ivy cuts her narrowed gaze over to me from across my kitchen. “Clearly not, seeing as he’s the ex.”

“Right. Yeah.” Seeing that slick pretentious prick has me all kinds of worked up. Knowing another man had a claim on her sours in my stomach.Her fiancé,he’d called himself.The thought of Ivy wearing that asshole’s ring—even for a second—is fucking me up. Almost as much as the realization that I could never be what she wants if that’s the kind of man she dates and agrees to marry. I could see my reflection in that dude’s shoes, that is, when I wasn’t blinded by the sun glaring off his shellacked hair.

“Wow, thanks for judging me.” She moves toward the front door. “And here I thought you were different.”

“Hey,” I say, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her to me. “No judgement here. I’m sorry he hurt you. Makes me wish I’d hurt him just now. But don’t lie to me,” I murmur, voice low and rough. “Is this thing with me just a rebound for you then?”

“This thing with you is. . . ” Her breath shudders out, andthen she’s shoving at my chest, eyes flashing. “What do youwantfrom me, Wyatt?”

Funny, not long ago, I was asking her the same thing.

I catch her wrists, drag them down, pin them between us. “I want the truth, angel. I want you to stop pretending like this is casual.”

Her lips part, but she doesn’t answer. She just looks at me, something unspoken flickering in her gaze. Something raw and desperate andreal.

So, I do what I’ve been wanting to do since the second I found out that bastard ever had a claim on her.

Idevourher. Like I’ve wanted to since that very first day.

I kiss her hard, deep, pouring every ounce of frustration, anger, and need into the slide of my mouth against hers. She gasps, and I take it, swallow it, press her back until she’s up against the wall, pinned between the rough wood and me. I lift her in my arms, and she wraps her legs around my waist like she was made for this. For me.