Page 68 of Homebound

I pull out every technique in my arsenal to make it the best goddamn kiss of her life. I nip her lip. Suck her tongue. Flick the roof of her mouth. Her tight body feels so good pressed against me, and all I can think about is taking her home, but to take her home, I have to stop kissing her. I don’t want to do that, so I just keep sucking and biting, and hell, even licking up her neck.

“Wyatt,” she moans. Damn, I love hearing her say my name like that. “I can’t believe I’m kissing you. When did you become such a good kisser?”

“I’ve always been a good kisser, so it’s too bad you’re just now finding that out,” I say, nipping her lip again.

“You should’ve kissed me sooner,” she moans against my mouth.

I smile against her, teeth bumping. “Believe me, I tried, but you weren’t ready for me then.”

She tugs me forward by my belt loops, pulling me as close as possible. “It’s because we were always just friends. I didn’t think of you that way.”

I bite her bottom lip at that. “Call me your ‘friend’ one more time, and I’ll drag you back to your bedroom, hook those pretty legs over my shoulders, and show you just how friendly I can be.”

Her mouth drops, and for the first time, I think I’ve left her speechless, but then she says, “Then, it’s really too bad we’re not closer to a bedroom.”

That does it.

I go in for another bruising kiss and quickly get lost in the sensation of her. The feeling of her on my lips. She’s devouring my taste the same way I’m devouring her, and the only thing I’m thinking about is how badly I’ve wanted this for years, and how the real thing is so much better than I ever imagined.

“Get in the truck,” I say. “I want to take you home and see what’s under that dress.”

Her lips part. Good. Let that sink in. I lift two fingers to pop her lips closed.

“Black lace panties,” she finishes, chest heaving.

“Oh, yeah?” A corner of my mouth hooks up. “Did you wear those for me?”

“No, I wore them for me,” she retorts with an arch of her brow.

“I guess I’m not surprised,” I murmur. “You’ve always loved wearing the pants in your relationships.”

She raises a casual shoulder. “What can I say? I look good in chaps.”

“Damn right, you do.” I dip my hat in agreement, and I love that her confidence is coming back out when she’s been so down on herself. “You can wear the pants as long as I get to take them off.”

That makes her shut right up.

She digs her fingers into the rim of my jeans, pulling me closer until my dick is throbbing right over her center. “I didn’t know you could be like this, Patterson.”

“Wyatt,” I correct in a low voice, kissing the soft skin behind her ear. “You call me Wyatt from now on. No more of this teammate’s last name bullshit, alright? I’m not your fucking friend. Not when all I’m thinking about is getting you out of that dress.”

I drag my hand down the cotton over her stomach, lower and lower, and then ever so carefully, I brush my knuckle right down her center, just hard enough to leave her aching, but soft enough to leave her wanting more.

She gasps.

I suck in that noise like air.

“Let’s go home.” I lean in, gripping her hips. “I want to get you nice and—”

My phone vibrates in my pocket, cracking through the moment. I pinch my eyes shut at the interruption.

Pre-Vienna Wyatt never would’ve considered looking at his phone while kissing the woman of his dreams, but now that I have a daughter, I need to check. I wrench myself free from her addicting lips.

“Do you mind?” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “It might be my parents.”

“You don’t even need to ask. You’re a father first,” she says, and that makes me want to kiss her all night.

I find that a lot of people who don’t have kids understand the pop-up problems with parenthood, but they can’t help but get irritated sometimes, and I don’t blame them. I get irritated too. Dakota doesn’t seem annoyed in the slightest, though, and there’s genuine concern shining in her dark eyes.