Текст книги "Wyatt's War"
Автор книги: Myla Jackson
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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 8 страниц)
Chapter Seven
Making love to Fiona the second time was a completely different experience and even more moving than the first. What it lacked in the fierce need of the first coupling, it made up for with the intensity of burning desire and tenderness expressed. Taking his time, he coaxed her to the edge by playing his fingers through her folds, flicking at the swollen nub of flesh between.
When he had her where he wanted her, begging him to fill her, he opted to enter her mission-style, preferring to observe the range of emotions crossing her pretty face as he thrust into her. Her pussy closed around him, tight, hot and drenched in her juices. She wrapped her legs around his waist, digging her heels into his ass.
For a moment, he thought perhaps this was his reward for surviving the hell of captivity in Somalia. As he lay with Fiona gathered in his arms, he could almost imagine a normal life. Waking up in the morning to sweet kisses from a beautiful redhead after making love, followed by a restful night’s sleep. A life in which he could lie by his lover’s side and forget all the tragedy he’d witnessed, maybe even get past the nightmares that had plagued him since his liberation from the Somali militants.
But he couldn’t allow himself to relax in a woman’s arms. His dreams had been so violent he’d hurt himself before he could awaken. What would happen to Fiona if he allowed himself to fall victim to the horrific nightmares? Unwilling to risk it, he eased his arm out from under her, pressed a feather-soft kiss to her lips, the simple gesture sparking desire anew. Forcing back his longing, he left her bed.
Too wound up to sleep, he paced until his craving subsided and he could lie still. Stretching out on the rollaway cot, he stared up at the ceiling, longing to crawl back in bed with Fiona.
At one point, she stirred and moaned softly.
Wyatt gave an answering groan and turned away. Until he could control his nightmares, he was no good for Fiona or any other woman. Tomorrow he’d see about getting a different room. The temptations were too powerful while he was alone with her. His mind made up, he drifted into a disturbed slumber, fraught with terrorists lurking in every shadow.
Fiona woke before dawn, the darkness like a black abyss. Something had disturbed her, but with her mind so fogged with sleep, she didn’t know what. Reaching out to her side, she felt for the warmth and comfort of her soldier’s chiseled body, only to feel the cool sheets against her fingertips. He’d left her bed. Had he left her room?
She lay still, listening for the reassuring sound of his breathing, hoping he snored just a little. A groan sounded on the far side of the room from the direction of the door and the rollaway bed.
The springs creaked and the sheets rustled sharply as if someone fought to be free of them.
“Wyatt?” she called out softly.
The only answer was another ragged groan.
Fiona rolled out of the bed and felt her way along the wall to the bathroom. Leaving the door mostly closed, she flipped the light switch, illuminating the bedroom just enough she could see the man caught in deep sleep, thrashing against the sheets, his naked body covered in sweat.
“Wyatt,” Fiona called out. She hurried across the floor and knelt beside him, her gaze skimming across his naked skin, angling lower to the nest of hair at the apex of his thighs. His cock lay flaccid, his fists clenched in the sheets at his side. Whatever he dreamed of caused him so much stress his head twisted back and forth.
“No,” he called out. “Don’t kill him. Please.” His words were mumbled but their meaning clear and the anguish on his sleeping face tore down the walls of any defenses Fiona might have fooled herself into believing were strong enough to resist this man.
Her vocal cords knotted in her throat, she swallowed hard and touched his shoulder lightly.
Wyatt jackknifed in the rollaway bed, caught her hand and yanked her across him, catching her throat in a headlock in the crook of his arm.
Fiona tried to cry out, but the air had been cut off to her lungs. She fought his hold, tearing at his arm with her fingernails. She kicked her heels but barefooted she left little impression on the man caught in the throes of a world only he could see.
As the gray haze crept in the sides of her vision, she stopped struggling. Nothing she could do, no matter how hard she fought would break his hold.
As she allowed her body to go limp, his grip slackened until he let go altogether.
Fiona sucked air into her starving lungs and slipped to the floor, out of his reach, her gaze on him wary, ready to move quickly if the need arose.
Wyatt’s eyes were wide open as he stared down at her. He blinked once, his brows drawing together. “Fiona? What are you doing on the floor?”
She gulped hard to clear her throat, her hand pressed to the skin still warm from his arm’s lock. “You don’t remember?”
He shook his head, his eyes widening. “Oh dear God, did I hurt you?” He dropped to the floor beside her, reaching for her.
Moving out of range of his hands, she shook her head. He didn’t remember. He’d been so entrenched in his dream world, he didn’t recall grabbing her. “Wyatt, you were dreaming.”
He scrubbed his hand through his hair. “I hurt you.” He buried his face in his hands for a long moment. “I was afraid of that.” He pushed to his feet and turned away.
Fiona rose and started to lay her hand on his back when she noticed the ragged lines of welts crisscrossing his skin. She’d felt them earlier, but had been too overcome by passion to ask. Now that she could see them clearly and feel the raised scars, her chest tightened. “Wyatt, what happened to you?” she asked softly, tracing one of the angry lines.
“Nothing.” He shrugged off her touch and reached for his T-shirt, pulling it over his head. Grabbing his jeans, he dragged them up his legs and buttoned them. Then he bent to shove his foot into a boot.
Her heart aching for him, she stepped closer. “Come back to bed,” Fiona said, feeling him slipping away from her, the stone wall of silence eating at her.
At first he said nothing as he dragged his jeans down over the boot. “I can’t sleep with you, Fiona. I might hurt you again.”
She laid a hand on his shoulder.
Wyatt jammed his other foot into the boot and then straightened. “I told you. I’m not the forever kind of guy. I come with far too much baggage. I’ll see the concierge about another room. If I can’t get one, I’ll sleep in my Jeep in the parking garage.”
“No.” She grabbed his arm. “You can’t sleep in parking garage. I’m sure there’s some rule to that effect.”
“Then I’ll sleep out on a park bench. The weather’s warm.”
“Please.” She gripped his elbow. “Please stay with me.”
“No. I’ll end up hurting you worse than this time.” He stepped past her and her hand fell to her side.
“I’m willing to take that risk,” she said softly.
He turned to face her. “You might be willing to risk your life. I’m not. I’ve already lost someone I cared about by not recognizing my limitations. I won’t lose another.” He looped his shoulder holster over his arm. “Do yourself a favor and stay away from me. I’m bad news.”
Fiona could tell by the firm set of his square jaw that there was nothing that she could say that would change his mind. With her heart heavy in her chest, she watched as he left, closing the door with a definitive click behind him.
“You’re not bad news,” she whispered. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”
And now he was gone.
Wide awake and hating himself for hurting Fiona, Wyatt channeled his anger into his work. He walked the short distance to the convention center, checking in with the night security guard. The sun had yet to appear over the horizon, but it was on its way, heralded by the gray pre-light of dawn. For the next three hours, he combed the building, checking storerooms, walking every inch of the facility, memorizing the entrances, the staircases and the security camera blind spots. Vendors started arriving and unloading at around seven o’clock, anxious to set up display booths where they’d demonstrate the products or services they had to offer in a free trade market. The flurry of activity increased with each passing hour, the number of trucks coming and going giving Wyatt an uneasy feeling about the security of the building and its occupants.
Joe’s team of dogs and handlers arrived at eight o’clock and laid out the plan for checking through the vendor-delivered items and the trucks waiting at the loading docks, as well as making a thorough sweep of the building itself.
Wyatt met Joe at the entrance and shook his hand. “Sorry about running out on you last night.”
Joe shrugged. “I know what it’s like. Been where you are and still have my moments.”
Wyatt swallowed past the lump in his throat. Damned right, Joe knew how it was. He’d been in therapy for over six months. The dogs had been the ticket out. “Thanks.”
“Yeah. You didn’t hurt my feelings.” Joe grinned. “Besides, I got some one-on-one time with the pretty redhead.”
Wyatt’s hands knotted into fists until he realized Joe was yanking his chain.
“She’s feisty that one,” Joe said. “I had to hold her back to keep her from going after you.” He shot a glance at Wyatt. “Smart, pretty and caring. Three of the things I like most in a woman. You going after her?”
Wyatt shook his head. “I’m not ready.”
“Well, if you’re not ready, mind if I ask her out?”
“Yes, I mind,” he bit out before he could think.
Joe laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I get it. You don’t want to stake a claim, but you don’t want anyone else poaching on the lady in the meantime.” He crossed his arms. “Doesn’t quite seem fair, but then I’m not a man to horn in on another man’s lover.”
Wyatt started to tell Joe that he wasn’t Fiona’s lover. But then that would be a lie. He’d made love to her the night before. That didn’t mean he had any kind of claim on her. He’d told her he didn’t want to start something. And he meant it. With his memories so fresh in his mind and the violence of his dreams, he didn’t trust himself to sleep with anyone. Especially not Fiona.
“I can see you have some issues to gnaw on.” Joe jerked his head to the side. “While you’re chewing, let’s get this show on the road.” He assigned sectors for each handler to manage and sent them on their way with instructions on what to look for and the procedure for if they found anything. When the dogs and handlers had dispersed, Joe tugged on Bacchus’s lead. “Come.” He glanced at Wyatt. “You’re welcome to tag along if you want. Bacchus and I love company.”
Wyatt fell in step with Joe and Bacchus as they searched one of the sections of the convention center Wyatt had been through earlier that morning. The dog sniffed and nosed around, moving on without stopping for long. Once they’d completed their sector, Joe guided the dog to the vendor displays in the center of the convention center. One row at a time, they traversed the showroom, noting each display, the items arranged on the tables and the people representing the products. Wyatt had scanned through the list of names and companies. Each entrant had been run through the FBI’s watch list before being approved, something Fiona had arranged months in advance of the convention.
Bacchus never once stopped to lie down like he would if someone had packed a bomb among the display setups or swag.
When they’d completed the sweep, Wyatt felt a little more confident about the building and the contents. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten. “Want to get some breakfast?” he asked Joe. “I’ll buy.”
“I’m always up for a free meal. Why don’t we ask your boss to join us?” He nodded toward the door where a perfectly dressed, prim and proper event planner entered. Her light charcoal skirt and wrinkle-free matching jacket were as neatly put together as the woman wearing them. She wore her deep red hair up and twisted into an elegant knot, pinned to the back of her head, the wild curls tucked in place, exposing the long pale length of her throat.
Wyatt could almost taste her skin. His groin tightened as he recalled every line and curve of the body beneath the skirt and jacket.
Before Wyatt could stop him, Joe raised a hand and called out, “Fiona, over here.”
Fiona glanced up and smiled at Joe. When her gaze connected with Wyatt’s her smile slipped and a rosy red blush crept up her neck to blossom in her cheeks.
Joe’s brows dipped and his lips curled up on the edges. “I didn’t know redheads could blush that red.” He glanced from Fiona to Wyatt and back. “Damn. You two got it on last night, didn’t you?” he said quietly enough only Wyatt would hear.
Wyatt’s jaw hardened. “Shut the fuck up.”
Fiona crossed the tile floor to where they stood.
Joe’s grin broadened and he reached out to shake Fiona’s hand. “You look gorgeous as usual, Ms. Fiona.”
Her answering smile made Wyatt’s cock jerk. “Thank you, Joe.”
Joe tilted his head to the side. “Are those shadows I detect beneath your eyes? The convention making you lose sleep?”
Wyatt shoved an elbow into his friend’s side. “With as much riding on this event, as well as terrorist threats, I imagine sleepless nights come with the job description.”
Fiona gave him a brief smile. “Right. I’ll be glad when it’s all over and everyone is safely on their way back to their respective countries.”
“In the meantime, won’t you join us for breakfast?” Joe asked. “Would sure make the scenery a lot brighter than looking across the table at Wyatt’s ugly mug.”
Even before he’d finished asking, Fiona was shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I have too much to do this morning.”
“You should eat to keep your strength up. From what I understand it’ll be a very long day, and if I’m not mistaken you probably skipped breakfast.” Joe gripped her elbow and led her toward the exit, refusing to take no for an answer.
“Joe, let her be. If she doesn’t want to go to breakfast with you, don’t push her,” Wyatt said.
Fiona wavered. “Well, I could stand a cup of coffee.”
“It’s settled then.” Joe pulled her hand through the crook of his elbow. “You’re coming with us.”
Wyatt followed behind the two as they walked out into the already warming Texas sunshine. As he trailed the other two, he couldn’t avoid noticing the twitch of Fiona’s hips and the way her skirt tightened around her thighs with every step she took. Those thighs had been wrapped around his waist at several points during the previous night’s mattress gymnastics. They were strong and sexy as hell. The woman worked out. Another thing he liked about her. Hell, there wasn’t much he didn’t like. Which made it even harder to resist her.
His jeans tightened, his cock pressing hard against his zipper. If he could trust Joe not to make a move on Fiona, he’d leave and let them eat breakfast alone. But the thought of Fiona with anyone else but him set his teeth on edge. Which didn’t make any sense at all. He didn’t want her. No, that wasn’t right.
He wanted her more than he wanted his next breath.
Trouble was, he didn’t want to hurt her.
Chapter Eight
Fiona sat beside Joe, directly across the table from Wyatt. Though she didn’t let her gaze connect with his too often, she could feel him staring at her and it made her squirm in her seat, her thighs tightening, her pussy creaming all over again. She could still feel the warm, wet rasp of his tongue across her clit and the weight of his palms cupping her breasts.
Trying to force her mind out of the bedroom, she picked at the breakfast taco on her plate, her appetite nonexistent.
For food.
What was Joe saying? So deep in her thoughts about being naked with Wyatt, she’d missed half of what he was talking about.
“One of my connections at the local FBI office informed me that they have been getting warnings from Washington to be on the lookout for trouble. The tech gurus in the cyber division say there’s been increased activity among known terrorist organizations in connection with the International Trade Convention.”
Fiona dragged her attention back to the conversation, the importance of which could be the difference between a successful convention and a complete disaster where delegates and civilians could die. “All the more reason to be on our toes at all times. We don’t want anyone hurt.” Despite her effort to avoid Wyatt, her gaze rose to his and locked.
His dark brown gaze bore into hers. “No, we don’t want anyone hurt.”
Joe stared from Fiona to Wyatt. “On that we can all agree. Which makes it all the more imperative to stop situations from happening before they become dangerous.”
Wyatt nodded. “Exactly. We should avoid trouble where at all possible. Even if it means denying certain persons from being around others.”
“Right.” Joe tapped his finger on the table. “I understand the Columbians and the Venezuelans have been calling each other names. Perhaps you should keep the delegates from those two countries out of each other’s way.”
Fiona stared at Wyatt a moment longer, her brows lifting. Not only would they need to keep certain delegates apart, Wyatt would probably try to maintain his distance from her as well. “The social event tonight will be a challenge. I’ve studied the list of guests and made notes on who has issues with whom.”
“I’d like to have that list,” Wyatt said.
“It’s in my room at the hotel. If you come two hours before the event, I’ll brief you on who to watch out for.” She glanced away, fighting to keep her lips from quirking up on the corners. Not only would she brief him on the people attending, but she might even debrief him for a little pre-hors d’oeuvre snack before the evening’s ordeal.
Oh yeah. He didn’t wear briefs. That smile she’d been holding onto broke through. Even better. If the man thought he could make love to her so expertly the night before and walk out of her life the next morning, he had another think coming. So he had some issues with PTSD? She could deal with it. Her parents hadn’t raised a wimp.
Her mind made up, her day laid out with so many coordination tasks to tick and tie, she pushed back from the table to get started. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I have work to do.” She stared across the table at Wyatt. “I’ll see you later.”
His eyes narrowed, but he nodded.
As far as Fiona was concerned the day couldn’t go fast enough. All the plans she’d made for the convention were falling into place. The caterer was on target to deliver on time, Joe and his dogs would be sweeping the hotel again at noon. Preston would have guards positioned at each entrance and exit, along with one of Joe’s bomb-sniffing dogs and handlers. The social event would take place in the hotel’s grand ballroom.
And if she was lucky, precisely two hours before the social hour, she’d take care of that itch that was threatening to consume her.
Wyatt spent most of the day between the convention center and the hotel, double-checking with Preston, Arthur and Joe at intervals to make sure all their bases were covered and nothing slipped through. When it was time to meet Fiona in her room, he couldn’t deny the rapid beat of his heart or the fact that his jeans had become two times tighter than they’d been all day. Standing outside the room they’d shared the night before, he raised his hand to knock instead of running his keycard through the locking mechanism. He had yet to find another room, the concierge insisting all the rooms in the River Walk area had been overbooked and he’d be lucky to find anything until after the convention.
Drawing in a deep breath, he knocked, telling himself he’d be in and out as soon as she imparted the information he’d need to mingle at the party effectively.
Less than a second passed and the door swung open.
His lips quirked. She must have been waiting on the other side. It was nice to know she had been as anxious as he had been for the agreed upon hour to arrive. She stood in the doorway, naked, her long red hair hanging down over one of her shoulders, barely covering the tip of one breast.
All good intentions of remaining hands off flew out the window.
She grabbed his hand, yanked him through the doorway and shut it behind him.
He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around hers to keep him from reaching out to capture one of her perfectly formed breasts.
Focus on the eyes.
“Uh, did I catch you at a bad time?” he asked, his gaze slipping from her eyes down to her smiling lips and lower to those smooth mounds jutting out as perky as ever, the tips knotted into hard little buds, tempting him to perdition. Oh boy.
“You and I both know this is as good a time as any.” She reached out, grabbed his T-shirt and pulled it up over his head, tossing it over the back of a chair. “We have exactly one hour before I have to be in the ballroom directing the preparations.” Her fingers made quick work of the button on his jeans, pushing it through and then sliding the zipper down.
His cock sprang free, hard, thick and throbbing. Wyatt groaned. “I told you, I’m no good for you.”
“Let me be the judge of that.” She stared down at his manhood. “Lose the boots,” she commanded, as she cupped her breasts and squeezed the tips. “I don’t know how long I can wait.”
Surrendering to her demands, he toed off his cowboy boots and shucked his jeans in record time. “This changes nothing.” He scooped her up into his arms and strode across the room to the bed, vaguely noting the rollaway had been removed. Nothing got in the way of the two of them and the mattress they’d be testing for endurance.
He tossed her in the middle and climbed in beside her, taking one of those sexy nipples into his mouth. Sucking hard on it, he released it and kissed his way across to the other. “Shouldn’t we be checking on something?”
“Umm, yeah. On how wet you make me.” Fiona ran her fingers down her torso to the juncture of her thighs, parting her folds for him.
“Got it.” He took over, pushing her fingers aside. Her pussy was wet with thick, musky juices. Wyatt slipped two fingers into her channel, swirling around to drench them before sliding up to stroke her clit.
Fiona arched her back off the bed. “Oh yes. That’s it. That’s the spot.” Her heels dug into the mattress and her bottom lifted.
Her apparent satisfaction spurred his desire. When he sat up, she touched his side. “I want to taste you,” she said, her hand finding and gripping his dick, tugging him toward her. “Let me.” Angling him toward her, she nudged his knees, urging him to straddle her head and lower himself until she could take his straining cock into the warmth and wetness of her mouth.
By all that was paradise, he couldn’t think past the way she made him feel with her lips wrapped around him, the suction of her mouth pulling him deeper. Fiona gripped his ass and pulled him down until his cock bumped against the back of her throat.
He groaned and rose. Again, her fingers dug into his butt and she brought him back to her, fully encasing him with her mouth. He almost shot his wad right then.
Several deep breaths and a will of iron got him under control and he moved in and out, settling into a smooth, easy rhythm he could handle while he bent to the task of bringing her to the same heights of ecstasy.
Parting her folds with his fingers, he stroked his tongue across the tip of her clit.
Her ass rose from the bed and she moaned around his cock.
Wyatt flicked her clit again and then ran his tongue in a long, thick sweep that ended at her entrance where he tasted the musky cream of her desire. He dug his tongue into her channel, while he fingered the tight little hole of her anus.
Her knees came up to squeeze around his ears and her teeth scraped his dick.
If he wasn’t careful, he’d come in her mouth. She had him so hot he could easily forget himself.
Focusing on her, he swiped and swirled his tongue along the swollen strip of flesh until she cried out, the noise muffled by his dick in her mouth.
She drew him deep into her mouth, her fingernails digging into his buttocks, holding him deep inside her.
Wyatt tensed, hovering on the edge, his body straining for release. Seconds before he lost it, he pulled free of her lips and turned around in the bed, settling between her legs. “Protection,” he gritted out.
She held up a foil package in triumph, then tore it with her teeth and rolled the condom over his engorged cock, her fingers lingering at the base, rolling his balls between her digits.
The urgency of his desire won out and he thrust into her, pumping in and out so hard and fast the friction made their connection burn.
She rose up to meet him, their bodies slamming together in a hot and powerful union. When he could hold back no longer, he rose up on his knees, shoved a pillow beneath her hips, gathered her bottom in his grip and rammed into her one last time, burying his dick as deep as it would go. He held her there as he shot over the edge, his cock throbbing against the walls of her channel. At that moment, his entire world consisted of him and her and the bed they lay on. There was nowhere else he’d rather be.
Fiona wrapped her legs around his waist, digging her heels into his ass. She fondled her breasts, tweaking the nipples, her head thrashing side to side as her body shook with her own release.
When he finally came back down to earth, Wyatt pulled the pillow out from beneath her. Without breaking their connection, he lay on his side, rolling her over to face him. “I didn’t come here to fuck you.”
She smiled and kissed his chin. “But aren’t you glad you did?”
He closed his eyes. “You know I am.” He brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “I could easily become addicted to you.”
“And that’s a crime?” Fiona cupped his cheek. “I’m tough. I can handle more than you think.”
He shook his head. “I was trained to kill and I almost killed you this morning.”
“But you didn’t.” She smoothed a thumb across his mouth and leaned close to capture his lip between her teeth. Her breath was clean and minty and made him want to…
He crushed her mouth with his, his tongue pushing past her teeth to caress hers in a long sensuous glide. When he broke off, he pressed his forehead to hers. “My life is too complicated. I’m messed up. I’m only good for fighting. I will probably be leaving the country as soon as this assignment is over.”
“I’ll take what I can get.” Fiona captured his hand on her face and pressed a kiss into his palm. “I stay very busy with my business. I’m not clingy and I’m not prone to wandering.”
“You deserve a man who will treat you like a queen and will be home every night to do this.”
“I don’t want to be treated like a queen. I work for a living, and I like it that way. And if I can do this every so often…well…it’s enough.” She slipped his hand down to her left breast. “I want a man who treats a woman not like a queen, but like a woman. A man who captures my heart, who works hard and plays hard.”
“Trust me, Fiona.” He shook his head. “I’m not the one for you.”
She gave him half a smile. “Because you don’t find me absorbingly intelligent or attractive?”
Wyatt chuckled. “Actually, the opposite. I find you very intelligent and totally attractive. That’s the problem.”
“Sorry, I’m not seeing the problem.” She kissed his chin and worked her way up to his lips. “Nope. Not seeing it.”
He returned the kiss, cupping the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her crazy red curls. How did she manage to look so trim and sophisticated as she had appeared earlier in her gray suit, every hair in place? Wyatt liked her better like this. Wild, uncontrolled and sexy as hell. “You are absolutely beautiful. But I can’t stay. When this gig is up, I’m gone.” He kissed her one last time, hard and final. Then he rolled out of the bed, slapped her fanny and said, “You don’t have much time before you need to be in the ballroom. Since I don’t have to be there as early, you can have the bathroom first.” He peeled off the condom and dropped it into the waste basket by the desk.
Fiona sat up and slid to her feet. “My door’s always open to you. Should you change your mind.” With a flip of her hair over her shoulder, she walked to the bathroom, the sway of her hips more emphasized than usual.
His cock responded, jerking to attention.
When she looked back and winked, he dove for the door and hustled her into the shower, climbing in behind her. “You’re testing me, aren’t you?” he said, nibbling the back of her neck.
“I’m a very determined woman.” She tilted her head to the side, allowing him to kiss his way down her throat. “I get what I want.”
“Umm. I don’t doubt that.” He cupped her breasts and bent to capture one, licking the water off the tip before sucking it into his mouth. Then he lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist, backing her into the tile wall of the shower.
“And I want you.” She wiggled her way down until her pussy hovered over his cock.
Damn, she had a way of keeping him hard. Wyatt drove into her, again and again, amazed at how quickly he’d recovered from their last round. How quickly he rose to the peak and would have exploded inside her, but he resisted, pulling free at the last moment. His cock was so hard he could drive nails into the wall with it.
Fiona gasped. “Why’d you stop?”
He shook his head and said through clenched teeth, “As crazy as you make me, we don’t have protection.”
“Let me down,” she insisted.
Wyatt eased her to her feet and gripped his member, rubbing his hands along the length to finish what they’d started.
She grabbed the bar of soap and created a thick lather in her hands, then pushed his hands out of the way and wrapped hers around him. Within seconds of pumping up and down his shaft, she had him back where he’d left off inside her. One more jerk of her wrists sent him flying over the edge, shooting his wad over her hands.
Fiona glanced up and smiled and handed him the bar of soap. “Your turn.”
He lathered up and ran his hands over her shoulders and arms, cupping her breasts in his big hands. They were perfect.
Fiona closed her eyes, letting her head tip back in the spray of the showerhead.
