“I’m assuming breakfast can be reheated,” she said, and began unbuttoning the shirt she was wearing, his shirt, gleeful at the brief look of stunned surprise on his face as she slowly bared herself to him. “You don’t get to call all the shots.”
“Please,” he said reverently, as he pulled her to him and took one of her nipples between his lips. “Call all the shots you want.”
She cried out with pleasure as he took his sweet, sweet time, sliding an arm around her waist, and sinking his other hand into the hair at the nape of her neck, then using both to arch her more fully into him.
Now it was her turn to growl with pleasure as she moved against him, seeking what her aching body knew it wanted.
She reached down between them and flipped open the snap at the top of his jeans.
“My wallet is in the other room,” he said as he trailed hot kisses from one nipple to the next. “Poor planning on my part.”
She continued opening the front of his jeans. “I’m on the pill,” she told him, her voice hoarse with need. “Regulates me. I haven’t been with—I’m safe, Wyatt.”
He lifted his head, caught her gaze, his so dark and full of want it took what was left of her breath away. “So am I.” He held her gaze as assuredly as he’d held every other part of her. “Are you sure, Chey?”
She nodded, making sure he knew that she wasn’t just mindlessly deciding this. “I don’t ever,” she said. “Ever.” She wanted him to know she meant what she said, about risking her health, or his, but also that she was making a deliberate choice, specifically with him.
“Me either. Never, not once.”
“We can,” she said, “if you—I won’t—don’t mind. I’m not dismissing it for the sake of speed. I want—”
He stood then, still holding her, and walked them both directly to the bedroom.
Admittedly part of her was disappointed, both because she wanted to feel him inside her, with no barriers, and because she’d hoped he wanted that, too. With her. She would never make anyone feel bad over that personal choice, so she kissed him, with all the care she had for him, and made sure he knew that.
He lowered her to the bed, not quite as gently as he had the first time, shucked his jeans and followed her down without pause, his weight directly on her. She immediately wrapped herself around him, the look on his face alone making her arch up hard against him. She expected him to reach past her, for the nightstand, but instead he cupped her cheek, turned her face to his, and settled between her legs.
“Last time, you took me before we took each other,” he said, his voice so deep now, the words quietly said. “This time I want to take you, feel you, all of you.” He started to push inside her and she gasped, her hips jerking hard against his, as an almost piercing need clenched the muscles between her thighs. “On all of me.”
“Yes,” she panted, when he paused, his gaze hot and heavy on hers. “All of you. Inside all of me. Please, Wy.”
Then take her, he did.
Chapter Eight
They were twenty minutes late to the meeting with Vivi, Hannah, Avery, and the rest of the assembled guests. The number of whom was rather startling. It looked as if half the town was packed around the tables in the veranda tearoom.
Wyatt held Chey’s hand as they stepped up into the enclosed veranda where Vivi had set up court, so to speak. She’d put out quite the spread and everyone already had full plates in front of them. It was a good strategy, Wyatt thought: fill their bellies before making a call to action. Having been a guest at her dinner table the night before, though, he suspected this wasn’t calculated. It was just how Vivi was.
Given the breakfast he’d made hours ago had been packaged up and stowed in the fridge untouched, he was grateful for it.
“Sorry we’re late,” he told Vivi, taking her offered hand and planting a quick kiss on the back, much to her delight. He and Chey took the two seats Vivi had saved for them at her table at the head of the room. “I was able to get a few things put into motion this morning,” he told Vivi as he nodded while people lifted their hands in short waves, called out hello to Chey, and raised a few glasses in their general direction. “Thanks for sending the resort plans over. That helped a lot.”
Chey responded to the various greetings with a quick nod and smile. It wasn’t until Wyatt went to pull out her chair that he realized they were still holding hands. A quick scan of the room told him the gesture had not gone unnoticed. He didn’t mind, quite the opposite, but this wasn’t his town; he didn’t have to live with these people. “Sorry,” he whispered in her ear as she scooted in front of him and took her seat.
But when he started to let her go, she held on to his hand a moment longer, then glanced up and caught his eye. “No apologies,” she said with a smile, the words for his ears only.
Their gazes held for a moment longer, and there was no doubt that she wasn’t just talking about the public display of affection. “Good,” he said with a quick flash of a grin, then edged behind her chair to get to his own. Vivi was on his right. Avery and a man Wyatt assumed was Ben, the veterinarian, sat across from them. They both offered happy greetings to him and to Chey. Avery’s eyes were particularly sparkling as she took in the two of them.
Wyatt hoped Chey was ready for what appeared to be a room full of well-wishers eager to congratulate her on the apparent change to her relationship status. He hoped she was ready for it, period. He hadn’t had the chance to tell her the rest of his news that morning, as they’d gotten distracted from that conversation. Twice. He had a whole new appreciation for long, hot showers now, and he’d been pretty appreciative of them before.
Wyatt pulled in his chair and nodded hello to the woman rounding out their table of six. She had just seated herself to Vivi’s right, placing her loaded plate on the table and propped a gorgeous, hand-carved walking stick against the wall behind her before seating herself. Wyatt had started to stand again to offer his assistance, but she’d kindly waved him off.
She seemed to be in the ballpark of Vivi’s age, but that was where the similarity ended. She was quite short, with narrow shoulders, wide hips, and skinny bird legs below. Her steel-gray hair was plaited into a braid that went far enough down her back that Wyatt didn’t know where it ended. She wore a tie-dyed shirt with what appeared to be the Bluebird crafter’s guild logo embroidered on the front pocket. Her faded and well-worn khaki shorts fell well below the knees and would have made her right at home in the bush country of Australia. Wyatt was intrigued by her already. Her face was lined by a life spent in the great outdoors, and her smile was ready and sincere.
He got hung up briefly on her eyes, which he swore were a lavender hue, though that might just be the lighting. Even as she smiled and said her hellos, she probed him in a swift once-over that left him feeling a little exposed. From Chey’s earlier description when they’d talked about who was going to be at the meeting, he had no doubt who she was. Chey was right about one thing. Addison Pearl Whitaker didn’t miss much.
In this case, that was going to be a good thing.
“Thank you all for coming out here this morning,” Vivi said, rising from her chair, all flowing scarves, bangle bracelets, and a swept-up hairdo that looked painstakingly elaborate, yet suited her stage bearing to a tee. Between Vivi’s lavender-streaked hair and Addie Pearl’s eyes, Wyatt felt a little like he was at a table with the Blue Hollow Falls version of the Witches of Eastwick. And here he’d thought he had to travel to the four corners of the earth to find such interesting company. He grew more intrigued with Chey’s chosen hometown by the minute.