Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
I don’t know what Wyatt and I would do for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Hang at his place maybe? Shower together, watch TV, have lots of mind-blowing sex?
All I know is I want to be with him.
Wyatt breaks the kiss to wrap his arms around me. “Aw, Sunshine, you’re still shakin’.”
Are you in love with me, Wyatt Rivers?
But then what? If his answer to that question was yes, where would that leave us? I’m not sure I’m ready to face the obstacles that’d lie ahead.
Let’s be real, I’m not even ready to face his answer. He said this was just sex. Leave it to me to make a mountain out of a molehill.
So I paste on a smile and say, “I’m a little cold, yeah.”
His brow creases as he runs his big hands up my arms. “Let’s get you dressed then. Here, take my jacket.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re not okay. You’re freezing. Take the damn jacket, Sally.”
He pulls up his pants, then helps me tug my shirt over my head and guides my arms into my jacket. Then he wraps me in his jacket, the nubby sherpa lining cozy and warm.
It smells like him. Like sandalwood and bonfires and dryer sheets. The yearning in my center takes on a sharp edge.
What kind of detergent does he use? And why does it bother me that I don’t know that about him? I thought I knew everything about Wyatt.
Then again, I’m not his girlfriend. I’ve been to his place, but I’ve never had an excuse to be in his laundry room.
I’m down bad if I’m interested in knowing what Wyatt’s laundry room looks like. He moved into the old farmhouse on Lucky River Ranch, the one that was built over a hundred years ago by Mollie’s great-grandfather. It’s been renovated, but if I had to guess, it probably doesn’t even have a laundry room; the machines are likely tucked into a closet or kept in the basement.
I need to get a life.
I need to ask Wyatt if he wants to get naked at his place, now. But I don’t. Today really has been perfect. I don’t want to ruin it by asking for more.
I’m still shaking when we finish getting dressed.
Wyatt frowns. “Talk to me. What’s goin’ on?”
Pressure builds inside my chest and behind my eyes. Now would be a perfect time to ask my best friend to take me home with him. But I can’t.
We can’t.
“That was great, Wy.”
“Of course it was great. Tell me why you’re still shaking.”
“I’ll be fine. Really. That was just…the orgasm, Wyatt. Wow.”
He smiles. “No shit. I can’t feel my fuckin’ legs right now.”
“Want me to feel them for you?”
He bursts out laughing. “Anytime.”
I meet his eyes. They bounce between mine as a beat of heated silence blooms between us.
Ask me to stay.
For a split second, I actually think he’s going to do it. His expression softens, and I swear I can see the same longing that I feel written all over his face.
But then he clears his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m not lettin’ you leave until you promise me you’re all right.”
I’m so crushed, I can’t breathe. Still, I manage to keep my smile from wavering. “Seriously, Wyatt, I’m great. Thank you.”
“Stop thankin’ me. You give as good as you get, Sunshine.” He flashes me a wide white smile. “I mean that in the perverted sense.”
“Everything you say is a euphemism.”
His smile broadens. I smile back, and this time, it’s a real smile because I love the fact that he and I share so many inside jokes.
We smile at each other like that for one beat. Two.
“Let me walk you to your car.” Wyatt’s voice sounds different. It’s deeper. Coarser.
I shake my head. “I should run. Lots to catch up on.”
Wyatt nods. “Yeah. Me too.”
Another beat of silence.
My chest burns from where the rope bit into my skin. It’ll probably leave a mark.
Wyatt keeps marking me. Is that another sign that his feelings for me run deep?
“See ya.” I turn and bolt for the door. “Please tell Ella I had the best time hanging out with her today.”
“Okay.”
Reaching for the latch, I glance over my shoulder. Wyatt is looking at me, his eyes narrowed. His smile is gone. A pair of indents has appeared between his eyes, like he’s confused. Or hurt.
I’m doing the right thing. This is what he wants. This is what I said I wanted.
Only I want more, and I don’t know what to do about that.
I burst into tears the moment I’m in my truck. Starting the ignition, I turn on the heat and lean my head against the steering wheel.
I drive back home in a daze. Luckily, I manage to get ahold of myself as I get closer to the house; I don’t want to tip Mom and Dad off that something happened. Mostly because I don’t feel like talking about it. And Dad is so laser-focused on me being laser-focused on my job. He gives me my freedom, but I doubt he’d approve of me being tied up by Wyatt instead of listening to that podcast or reading those journals.