“You got me naked—” She broke off with a moan when he took her down to her bed and his mouth latched on to her other breast, sucking hard before nipping it gently with his teeth and then soothing it with a kiss.
Her eyes rolled back in her head. “Wyatt.”
He flashed her a tight but wicked smile, and then his mouth traveled southbound. With no clothing to slow him down, all she could do was writhe against him as heat seared through her body.
He wrapped her inner thighs around his ears and sent her skittering with his tongue.
As she came back to awareness, he was kissing his way back up her body. She needed him with a shocking desperation that scared her. She was beginning to think that no matter how much he gave her, it wasn’t going to be enough. It wouldn’t be enough until she was his, body, heart, and soul.
Terrifying.
He put on a condom and pushed into her with one hard thrust that almost sent her over yet again. So did the slow, purposeful, knowing thrusts designed to take her to the very edge. She already knew he could hold her off for as long as suited him, drawing out her pleasure until she was mindless for release. “Don’t stop,” she begged. “Please, Wyatt, don’t stop.”
“Never.”
Thank God, because this, with him. It was her air. It was her everything . . .
He broke from her lips, fisted his hands in her hair and locked his eyes on hers. She nearly came from the intensity of his expression, she was that close. He was, too, she realized, feeling him quiver against her with the effort it was taking to hold them both off. “Emily,” he said, that was it, just her name, and she clenched hard around him, going off like a bottle rocket. She took him right along with her, the sound of his release refueling hers.
When she opened her eyes, he hadn’t budged, his weight still holding her pinned to the bed, his heart thundering against hers. She loved that, feeling him breathing hard, knowing he was completely wrecked and that she’d done it. One of her legs was bent, her foot on the mattress, the inside of her thigh still tight to his hip. Her other leg was still wrapped around him, as were her arms, her hands gliding along his sleek, sweat-dampened skin. As the rest of her senses slowly returned, she wished for him to lift his head, meet her gaze, and say one word.
Stay.
His face was buried in her neck, his mouth brushing her skin softly. It felt sweet, and yet sexy. An affectionate just-had-an-earth-shattering-orgasm nuzzle.
“Was that good-bye?” she asked.
“I was thinking it was more of a ‘damn I’m glad you’re not full of bullet holes,’ ” he said.
Or that . . .
His arms tightened on her, and she felt a surge of hope, but before that emotion could settle, he looked at the three boxes along the wall, boxes she’d packed with her stuff. “I guess it is a good-bye of sorts,” he said, and she stopped breathing.
Just stopped.
“You’ll come visit,” he said. “Your sister’s here.”
So are you, she thought.
“And I get to L.A. occasionally,” he said. “And there’s always vet conferences.”
Ouch. Yeah, this was good-bye.
His back to her now, he pulled on his clothes. “I need to get to Lilah’s and see if she needs help treating the dogs.”
She let out the breath she’d been holding and sat up, pulling the sheet to her chin. Stupid to feel modest now, but she’d never felt more naked in her life.
Don’t look back, she told herself. She wouldn’t begrudge falling for him, or this place, any of it because she’d found herself here—not the person she’d thought she was supposed to be, but the woman she really was. And as it turned out, she was a lot more like her dad than she could have imagined.
And that was okay, too, because maybe, just maybe, she’d also learned to do what he’d always wanted for her— how to love without question, how to give her whole heart, no regrets.
But damn. Damn, it sucked.
Wyatt walked to her bedroom door, put his hand on the handle, and let out a long breath before facing her. “I really am happy for you,” he said with his usual blunt honesty. “Everyone should get what they want out of life, but especially you, Emily. You deserve that.”
He was gone before she found her voice. “You, too,” she whispered.
Twenty-nine
Wyatt strode into Sunshine Wellness Center from the back. AJ’s office was empty so he moved past the physical therapy rooms to the gym.
AJ was flat on his back on a bench, pressing weights. When Wyatt kicked his foot, he jerked. The weights clunked when he racked them, and there was lots of swearing as he sat up and eyed Wyatt. “Men have died for less,” he said, and then frowned. “Damn, a dog die on you or something?”
“No.”
“A horse?” AJ asked.
“No. Jesus,” Wyatt said, and took the weight bench next to AJ.
“Something or someone died. It’s all over your face.”
“Nothing died. No one died.” Wyatt shook his head and reached for the bar. “It’s nothing.”
“Bullshit.” AJ stood and held Wyatt’s bar down so that he couldn’t lift. “You’re not bench-pressing when you look like shit.” He paused. “This about your sister?”
Wyatt’s eyes narrowed up at his oldest friend. “What about her?”
AJ chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, as if carefully considering his next words. “I’m thirsty. You thirsty?”
“No.”
“Good. Me too. Let’s go.” He hauled Wyatt up and shoved him out the door ahead of him. They walked down the street to the only bar in town.
“Two shots,” AJ said to the bartender. “Whiskey.” He slid onto a stool and glanced at Wyatt’s face. “Actually, make that four shots. And keep ’em coming.” He waited until the drinks arrived, lifted his, and knocked it against Wyatt’s.
They tossed their drinks back.
“So,” AJ said. “You didn’t kill any puppies today.”
“No.”
“And it’s not about your sister.”
Wyatt gave him a long look. “Why do you keep asking about my sister?”
“No reason.” AJ reached for his second shot and waited until Wyatt did the same.
The shot went down a little smoother than the first, and Wyatt gestured for another.
The bartender brought four more shots.
“She’s leaving,” Wyatt said, grabbing one.
“Darcy?”
“No.” Wyatt clicked his glass to AJ’s and drank. “Emily,” he said, letting out a long breath. Finally. Finally he was feeling comfortably numb.
AJ blinked. “The pretty intern?”
Wyatt blew out a breath and picked up his fourth shot, gesturing to the bartender for still more. He wasn’t sure how many it was going to take, but he figured he’d know when he got there.
“Man, I didn’t realize,” AJ said, matching him shot for shot. “Just ask her to stay, why don’t you? Chicks dig that.”
“No,” Wyatt said, and shook his head. His befuddled head. “It’s her life, and this is what she wants. I’m happy for her.”
“Fuck that. Tell her to stay.”
Wyatt laughed mirthlessly. “Is that what you do, you tell your women what to do?”
“Yes.”
Wyatt pointed at him. “That’s why you have no woman.”
AJ frowned. “Hey. Well, okay . . .” He was speaking a little slowly, like his tongue wasn’t working. “Maybe that’s true right now,” AJ said, “but this isn’t about me. This is about you and your whole fucked-up family.”
“We’re not fucked up.”
“So fucked up,” AJ said, weaving.
Or maybe that was Wyatt.
“Growing up,” AJ said, “you never had a choice or a say, like . . . ever, and now you won’t tell a woman you love her and want her to stay because of it.”
“Bullshit.”
AJ raised a brow. “Which part?”
Wyatt wasn’t exactly sure. He was fuzzy. Very fuzzy. “I won’t take away her choices. She’s gotta want to stay on her own. And she doesn’t.”