need to touch you,” he whispered.
“Touch me.”
His palms traveled over the slopes and curves of her body. His hands were large and rough, but he was gentle in his approach, making her want him all the more. He lifted her leg up under the knee, and she gasped as he slid his hand under the tight confines of her dress, stroking her thigh back and forth, over and over. “You’re soft,” he murmured between kisses. His body pressed to hers was a wall of granite, so big and hard, and she was overwhelmed with sensation after sensation. Between her thighs, pulsing heat gathered and her breaths came in short, rapid bursts.
He lowered her leg to the floor and flipped her around to face the wall, her back to his front. He probed her backside, skimming his hands over black lace. Through the material of her dress, the heat of his palms scorched her skin and she sighed, surrendering her body to him.
Finally, he inched the zipper of her dress down. She felt the cooling fresh air on her skin as he pushed her dress away. Planting kisses on her shoulders, he undid her bra and then reached around to cup her breasts. He filled his hands, massaging and caressing her until she could barely stand the pleasure, tiny moans escaping her lips.
He skimmed his hands down her torso and back up again, navigating her body as if he were exploring points on a map. “You’re soft everywhere.”
She loved the quiet words he spoke over her shoulder and the way he held her so preciously. She breathed in the aroused scent of him as he reclaimed her aching breasts, his body pressed to hers, fully aroused, his scent intoxicating.
“We need to move this onto the bed,” he said. “Unless you like—”
“No, the bed is fine,” she managed.
He helped her remove the remainder of her clothes and then lifted her into his strong arms. He carried her to the turned-down bed and laid her there carefully.
Without saying a word, he kicked off his shoes and undressed for her, undoing his string tie, removing his jacket, shirt, belt and pants.
From what she could see from the sliver of moonlight streaming into the window, Wyatt met and exceeded her expectations. God, he was glorious above the waist, with brick shoulders and hard abs. And below, well, she took a huge gulp. He was definitely all man.
“Don’t ask me why,” he said, quite earnestly, “but I have protection.”
“That’s a relief,” she said softly. “I don’t.”
She hadn’t exactly planned on hitting the jackpot tonight, but she thought it odd that he would be apologizing for carrying protection. He’d said he was new to bachelorhood. She assumed he was divorced, yet she needed to ask. “Wyatt, just tell me one thing. You’re not married, are you?”
He stared into her eyes for a beat of a second and then shook his head. “No, I can promise you that.”
Relief took on a new meaning with that promise. “Then, as much as I like looking at you, I’d like to touch, too.”
He sighed, perhaps equally relieved. “Absolutely, darlin’.”
* * *
The first time Wyatt made love to her, it was an exploration of newness. They were careful with each other as she learned what he liked, while he provided what she wanted. There was heat and pleasure and a development of trust. She did trust Wyatt. She knew he wouldn’t abuse her in any way; he was far too much of a gentleman for that. But now, after a short respite, Wyatt was pulling her atop him, kissing her senseless again, and this time both of their guards were down.
“I want you again.” The urgent plea tore from his throat.
“I’m here,” she whispered, climbing up his body and giving him access to her breasts.
“I’m glad you are,” he said, tickling her nipple with the tip of his tongue. Both peaks pebbled up immediately, and wild stirrings began at the apex of her thighs.
Wyatt was the best lover she’d ever had. He could take her from zero to ninety with just a heated look or a bold caress. And he was doing just that with exquisite strokes of his tongue on her breast, the full circle of his mouth drawing her out, making every nerve ending ping and jump.
When he was through making her squirm in delight, he moved down her body, his hand gliding past her waist and his fingers tucking into her sensitive folds. He knew exactly how to caress her. He knew where she needed to be stroked and oh, he was merciless. She cried out, the pleasure so exquisite it was almost painful. Electric sensations rocked her back and forth until she could barely take it another second.
“Kiss me,” he ordered, and she obeyed.
And just as their tongues met, her body splintered apart, the amazing orgasm rocketing through her body with enough force to jerk her off the bed. She came down panting, the effects of her release almost mystifying her until she opened her eyes and saw Wyatt staring at her, his darkened gaze hot as fired metal.
He rolled her over onto her back and lifted her hips, positioning her. And then he was inside her again, this time without hesitation. He began thrusting, his erection hard and thick, pulsing with new life. He moved deeper and harder and brought her to the brink of insanity once more. “Come with me this time,” he rasped, his throat thick.
And they moved together, arching, aching, a beautiful joining of bodies in complete sync with each other. And when she was primed and eager and staring into his eyes, he tipped his head in acknowledgment. He knew she was ready. Then they rose up and bucked and cried out, her sighs meeting his groans. Her body shattered, just as his came apart.
It was glorious.
She was in heaven.
And she stayed up there awhile before slowly easing down.
Her limbs were weightless now. She felt like a sated rag doll, too limp to move. Wyatt scooped her up in his strong arms and surrounded her with his hot, perfect body. He kissed her cheeks, wove his fingers through her hair.
“Brooke,” he whispered over her lips.
“Mmm.” She’d never been happier. Or more tired.
“Sleep, darlin’.”
“Sorry, can’t help it.”
“It’s okay,” he said.
Wrapped up in his arms, she closed her eyes.
* * *
Wyatt opened his eyes to a dawn that had long ago broken through the shuttered windows of Brooke’s hotel room, streaming bright light inside. The digital clock read eight o’clock and he cursed silently as he untangled himself carefully from Brooke. His heart thumped in his chest as he glanced down at her, looking so peaceful, her eyes closed, that mane of raven hair falling down her back. His body strummed to life again, but he had no time to indulge or to say goodbye to Brooke. No time to look into those pretty brown eyes or hear the sultry tone of her voice.
He should’ve been on the road an hour ago. He was late, and he’d made Henrietta a promise. He couldn’t take advantage of her good nature. Weekends were precious to her.
“Dammit,”
