Page 68 of Wild Rivals

When I move up the bed, there’s a heaviness in my chest as he follows me. I don’t want this to be the last time, but I know that Wyatt doesn’t deserve to be saddled with my sadness.

He dusts kisses over my legs until he reaches the apex of my thighs. Instinctively, I widen my legs for him, collapsing against the bed when he runs his thumb over my panty-covered clit. For the first time in weeks, I feel something and I’m not sure how to handle it.

“Wyatt,” I breathe.

His response is to cover my pussy with his mouth, sucking on my clit through the material. I cry out and claw at the sheets beneath me as I thrash around trying to get away from the overwhelming sensations exploding inside me.

“That’s it, baby. Be a good girl and come for me,” he soothes, the words barely penetrating the fog his mouth has created in my mind.

My fingers and toes tingle, warning me of my impending orgasm before the fluttering sensation intensifies in my stomach. I push my head into the mattress, desperate for more and for him to stop at the same time.

Wyatt slips a finger under my panty line, sliding it into my pussy before my walls spasm around it, sucking him into me.

“You’re so fucking wet for me, Mad.” There’s a hint of awe in his tone.

When he returns his mouth to my clit, I explode, crying out so loud that I wouldn’t be surprised if they could hear me up at the main house.

Holy shit, I’ve never come that fast in my life.

Tremors wrack through my body as I gasp for breath and collapse against the mattress. I’m vaguely aware of Wyatt removing my underwear and the sound of foil being ripped open. He appears above me, brushing back a strand of hair on my cheek.

The air becomes charged, like something is changing between us, but it’s not tangible. It’s as if this thing between us is turning into something bigger. More than what either of us ever expected. I try to distract myself from it, running my hands over his bare shoulders and through the hair at the nape of his neck, but it seeps into my body, until all I can do is sink into the feeling.

Does he feel it too?

I’d like to think that he does, that I’m not the only one that’s falling.

Wyatt hovers between my legs, lifting one onto his hip as his cock settles heavily against the slit of my pussy. “We can stop if you’ve changed your mind.” His voice is so soft, I wonder if I’ve imagined it, but as I stare up at him, he looks at me expectantly, like he won’t make a move until I give the go-ahead.

I shake my head, emotion clawing at my throat because he’s being so nice and attentive and I don’t know that I deserve that from him. Not after the way I pushed him away. He’s not mine.

He enters me, slowly and almost torturously. I close my eyes and a tear slips free, running down and into my hairline. I’m crying for what could have been, for the future that I felt like I was so close to grasping.

Wyatt freezes, wiping away the trail the tear leaves behind, and I force my eyes to open because he needs to know that I want this. That I’m not crying because of what we’re doing. I want him more than my next breath.

“Mad.” It’s said with an aching yearning of hopelessness that I feel down to my bones, and I have to convince myself that I’m just projecting my own feelings onto him.

“Please, don’t stop,” I plead, pulling him against my body and burying my nose in the space between his collarbone and jaw.

I feel his hesitation before he moves, pulling out slowly and then sliding back into me.

It’s with slow, gentle thrusts that Wyatt gives me my next orgasm. It hits me out of nowhere, an ache in the base of my spine as black dots appear on my vision and the familiar tingling starts in my fingertips. There are flashes of light on my eyelids as I squeeze them shut and arch my back, pressing my chest closer to his.

He follows me into oblivion, burying his face in my neck as he grunts out his release. It’s the most intense thing I’ve ever felt, and in the moments after, I wish we’d never done it because how do I ever let this man go? How do I ignore the way I want to call him mine when he was never going to be?

41

WYATT

I feel Maddie pulling away before I’ve even had a chance to catch my breath. As I roll to my side, she slides off the bed and wraps herself in a bathrobe, leaving the room without a word. I close my eyes, a pressure settling on my chest as I sit up and remove the condom, looking around the room for a trash can.

Somewhere beyond the bedroom, I hear the toilet flush, followed by the sound of running water. For the first time in my life, I second-guess my next move. Should I go and find her, or give her space?

My clothes stare up at me from the bedroom floor. Getting dressed feels like the next logical step, so that’s what I do. And then I sit on the bed and wait for her to come back. Although, I don’t know if I’ll get my Maddie back or the one that’s been keeping me at arm’s length for weeks.

She seems surprised that I’m still here when she walks into the room, her eyes a little red before she drags them away from me. “I thought you’d have left.”

I run my hands over my jeans, my palms damp with my nerves. It feels different—and not in a good way. I thought I was getting through to her. “Why?”