Page 45 of The Ex Project (The Heartwood #3)

HUDSON

Our hands are on each other before we’ve even reached the door to the apartment.

We haven’t labelled anything yet, but Wren has all but fully moved in with me.

Though, she still has her apartment back in the city, and she still hasn’t fully outlined what her plan is as far as a pay check goes.

But right now, I’m unbothered, because her hands are gripping my hair, and her lips are on mine, and all I can think about is getting her naked.

Well, somewhat naked.

“Leave the T-shirt on,” I mumble against her mouth, and she smiles against mine.

The door shuts behind us as we fumble around in the entryway.

I push Wren up against the back of the front door with a soft thud and catch the back of her head with my hand, firmly gripping the base of her neck as she tilts her head back to kiss me.

Her mouth opens in a moan when my lips meet the soft spot beneath her jaw.

My teeth nip at her lightly, a whimper rising from my throat.

The pull I have towards Wren is instinctual, it’s a primal feeling of wanting to ravish her.

It’s like our bodies are doing it on their own.

When we’re together, I wonder if soulmates exist. I went my whole life being in love with Wren, and I would have spent the rest of my life thinking about her, pining for her, longing for her, had she not shown up here.

Her hands find the hem of my T-shirt and pull up, grazing the soft skin of my abdomen as she peels the cotton off my body. She stands there, looking at me, eyes raking over my torso. My breathing is ragged, heaving. Hers is too, her chest rising and falling in time with mine.

We surface for oxygen long enough that she can admire me, and then she’s back on me, hands groping, mouths twisting together.

I run my hands down the backs of her thighs.

They’re bare, the hem of her denim shorts only long enough to be appropriate to wear in public, but they ride up further as I hoist her, pinning her against the front door, gripping her legs as they wrap around my waist.

I’m already rock hard, and I press my length to her pussy, lining it up with her slit.

I grind my hips on her, cock pressed firmly against her, only two layers of denim stopping me from sliding into her.

Fuck, I want to. Wren feels so good when she’s stretched around me, all warm, and wet, and tight.

But there’s something I haven’t been able to get off my mind, a fantasy she planted in my head living rent-free since she mentioned it.

I lift her off the door, taking her full weight in my arms, and walk her over to the bedroom.

Her lips never leave mine, our tongues tangled up together until we finally break apart, only so I can lay her down gently on the plush duvet.

Her hair fans out around her, a dark splash against the white pillow case.

Her eyes shimmer in anticipation, plush lips widening into a smile.

I lay next to her, hovering over her as I roll onto the mattress.

Wren sits up, propping herself on her arms over top of me, and then kneeling to undo my belt buckle.

She nimbly undoes it and slides down my jeans, my boxers, freeing my already throbbing cock.

Her hand strokes once, twice, her thumb making a circle on the sensitive spot beneath the head.

There’s already a bead of precum forming on the tip, which she licks off with the tip of her warm, slick tongue.

“Fuck, Wren.” I groan, looking down to see her tongue swirling over the smooth, pink tip.

Somewhere between her taking my pants off, and sucking my cock into her mouth, she’s shimmied out of her bottoms, thong and all, my T-shirt landing on her thighs and covering her pussy.

Jesus, I’m going to bust before I have a chance to do what I want with her, so I gently tug on her upper arm, pulling her up and then guiding her around.

“Turn around,” I manage to grit out as I push my impending orgasm back. She tips her head askance but does as she’s told. “We still have a wager to settle.”

I grip Wren’s hips and yank them backward so her slick cunt is lined up over my face, right as Wren looks back at me over her shoulder.

Our eyes meet, and then I bury my tongue in her, licking and sucking her, drawing a gasp from her.

I flick my eyes up to see what looks like a pained expression on her face. But this is pure pleasure.

I work my tongue into her folds again, finding her clit and making slow, sweeping circles around it. Wren utters something that sounds like my name. I suck the bundle of nerves into my mouth and release it with a pop sound. Her hips lurch forward until I catch her, bringing her back to my face.

“Jesus Christ,” Wren says, her voice breathy and low.

“If you can manage to utter a prayer, then we’re far from even, Miller,” I say, releasing my mouth from her and bringing my fingers up to massage her lips instead.

“Time to pay up.” She flashes me a look over her shoulder again and sticks her tongue out at me before using it to sweep up my length.

“Good girl,” I say, landing a firm smack on her ass, and watching her pale flesh turn pink.

She lets out a squeak of surprise but stays focused, drawing me further into her mouth.

My tip hits the back of her throat and I moan against her entrance.

The vibrations in the back of my throat make Wren’s hips buck forward, and this is how we go.

My pleasure driving her own, my reactions causing a mirrored one in her.

We’re giving and taking in tandem. Equals.

Until Wren’s head snaps up, and she glances back over her shoulder again.

“I’m so close, but I don’t want to come like this,” she says, shifting herself up.

“Tell me how you want to come, Miller. I’ll make it happen.”

“Oh no. I don’t want you to do anything.

Just lie down and take it.” She winks at me over her shoulder, repeating my words from the night of the vote.

A challenge, one I’m happy to accept. I lift my arms, placing my hands under my head, and lie back while Wren climbs over me, still facing away, but lining herself up so she can slide my cock into her entrance.

Her ass looks fucking amazing from here, and I give it another light smack to show my appreciation.

She slides up and down my length, one hand stabilizing her on my leg, the other in front of her, playing with her clit. And suddenly her walls clench around me, her body lurches forward, and my own release is close.

“I’m gonna—” She cries out, all her muscles contracting and relaxing in waves. Her outburst causes me to break, and my own release pumps into her hot and fast.

Wren falls onto the mattress beside me and crawls up to lie on the pillow next to mine. Her hair is damp, tendrils sticking to the sheen of sweat on her face. I kiss her temple, brushing a strand off to the side.

“The next time we do this, I want you to come looking in my eyes,” I murmur, and draw her head closer, letting my mouth linger on her forehead. She settles into me and we find a comfortable spot to lie together in the warm yellow glow of the bedside lamp, her head resting on my firm peck.

We lay in silence for a moment, and although my body is relaxed, I’m still replaying the events of the night at the bar.

Spencer showing me the picture of Wren’s painting she posted online, the insane amount of people who liked it, even in the span of a couple of hours.

The multiple offers from gallery owners to put her art on display.

I hate that my first reaction was to be jealous about it, that sticky, hot feeling climbing up my back.

I glance down at Wren in my arms, her breathing evening out, her eyes closed.

I just got her back. I spent ten years wishing and hoping that she might find her way back to me, and now …

Wren hasn’t even brought it up. Surely if Spencer showed me, she also showed Wren, told her about the opportunities she has to turn her art into something she could get paid to do.

It’s not that I don’t want it for her, I just don’t want to lose her again. Last time was too painful.

We’re different now, I remind myself. We’re grown adults, and we are no longer at the mercy of our circumstances.

I’m certainly not. That may have been the case then, when I didn’t have the money to follow Wren wherever she wanted to go, but I do now.

I get to choose how I respond to this—it’s my decision if I want to let something like this come between us again.

“Wren,” I whisper, gently shaking her shoulder. She takes a sharp inhale of breath as she wakes, probably having just dozed off. “We need to talk about something.”

She sits up now, her eyebrows knitting together as she regards me.

Nerves rattle around in my gut, but I tell myself this time with Wren has to be different.

If she’s thinking of leaving for the city, then we have to get it out in the open.

Most of all, I want her to know I’m on board. I’m on her team.

“What’s going on?” she asks, chewing on her bottom lip nervously.

She brings her hand up to chew at her nail, the first sign of her anxiety I’ve seen in a long time.

I reach for her hand, holding it against my chest so she can ground herself on the beat of my heart. So she can feel how it beats for her.

“Nothing. I just … I need to know if you’re planning on leaving. I mean,” I stammer. I’ve never been the best co mmunicator, and I’m not getting this out how I want to. “I want to know so we can figure it out, together this time.”

“What?” Wren’s face changes from anxious concern to surprise in a millisecond. “Who told you that?”

“Spencer. I talked to her at the bar. She showed me the response your painting has been getting online. The offers you’ve had from the galleries back in the city. It’s huge.” Wren sits up and pulls away from me, drawing her knees into her chest and wraps her arms around them.

“Yeah, I guess it is. I never expected it, honestly.” Her eyes flick down to her hands. “I didn’t tell you because I don’t even know if I want to entertain it.”

“Why not? Doing what you love and getting paid to do it sounds like a dream.” I think about my own choices, the career path I took.

I love where I am now but … if I could have done something differently, maybe I would have.

If I had every opportunity to do whatever I wanted, would it have been construction?

Firefighting? I don’t know. But Wren should have the choice. She does have the choice.

“Because it would mean leaving Heartwood, leaving you. I didn’t think you’d be enthusiastic about the idea. And you have the arts centre project to work on …”

“ We have the arts centre to work on,” I remind her, although it still isn’t a valid reason for her not to take a new opportunity.

We decided although I would take the lead, she would continue to work as a freelance consultant on the project.

At least until she figures out what she wants to do in the long term.

“And we can figure that part out later.”

“Regardless, I didn’t think it was realistic right now.

” Wren swallows thickly, her throat bobbing.

“Besides, we only just started to sort through our baggage, and I’m scared we’ll repeat the past over again.

” My chest aches at the thought of Wren being scared, the idea that I would ever let her go again.

“But we won’t. We’ve both grown, Wren. We’ll figure it out together.” I tug on her upper arm again to turn her to face me. Her ebony eyes are watery when they find mine. “Same team, remember?”

“Same team,” she echoes.

“Okay,” I say, glad it’s settled. Now I have to prove to her we aren’t destined to repeat past mistakes. “So, tell me about these galleries.”