City of Champions (22 page)

"Very tastefully prepared you for bed?"

"Right. Well put. I would just hate for it to get damaged," she said, stroking her thumb across the locket, "so I appreciate you doing that."

"I don't want anything of yours to be damaged. Especially something that seems to be so special to you. You wear it all the time, Doc."

"Thanks. It was my mother's."

"
Was?
"

"Yeah," she looked away from him and cleared her throat uncomfortably as she fumbled to put the necklace back on with trembling fingers.

"Here, let me," Wyatt said calmly, taking the delicate chain from her hands.

"Are you sure you can do it?"

"I grew up with three generations of women under one roof. Trust me, I can handle putting on a necklace. Come here."

Wyatt reached around her to push the coffee cup farther back on the kitchen counter, gently grazing her waist on the way. The contact quickened her pulse and she could feel her breaths become more rapid in her throat.

"Don’t want you to get burned," he said, winking at her. "Turn around," Wyatt whispered against her hair, and she obliged. Jenna felt his fingers against the back of her neck as he moved the tangled mess of her hair across her back and over one shoulder. "Good."

She could feel the full length of his hard body against her back, her legs, her ass — everywhere.
What is it with this guy? He has a way of controlling my body and it refuses to tell him no.
She stood completely still — she wanted to be there with him and no sense of sanity would sway her to move.

Wyatt leaned forward, breathing against her cheek as he slid the locket along her breasts and then pulled it higher, dragging it slowly over his tee shirt — the pressure of the metal teasing her already sensitized skin. Then his heated fingers were at her neck and she could barely process her own passionate desire for him. Each pass of his fingertips against her nape was sending her nerves into a tailspin, but just when she was ready to turn around, he stepped back and all the glorious sensations he provided her were suddenly gone, leaving her feeling completely empty.

"You can turn back around now," he whispered hotly, against her bare ear.

Jenna turned around slowly and looked up into his face. She was shocked that Wyatt looked just as overcome as she was. His brows were slightly furrowed and his eyes were as dark as sweet chocolate, focusing on her lips, then slowly moving down to her chest. He lifted his right hand toward her face, but hesitated, instead taking the weight of the pendant in his hand, stroking the delicately carved face with his thumb.

"Very pretty."

"Thank you," Jenna choked out.

"May I?"

"Open it? Okay, but it's empty. Nothing to see in there."

"An empty locket? Well that's just sad."

"Hey, don't be mean. I just haven't had anything special enough to put in it — yet."

Jenna was shocked by her own candor, and clearly so was Wyatt because his face turned up quickly. He looked into her eyes again, but swiftly dropped his hand from the necklace.

Jenna tried to be relieved, but it was just the same old roller coaster as every other time he was near her — concentrated adrenaline and excitement, immediately replaced with loss and disappointment when his touch was gone.

Jenna didn't even care anymore that he wasn't what she was supposed to want — that he was bound to break her heart and make her feel like an idiot all over again. No, all she wanted was for that euphoria to come back to her, to experience the overwhelming intensity being with him gave to her.

He picked up her coffee mug and placed it in the sink, returning to stand in front of her with a small smile on his face. Just when she almost had the courage to make a move, his large hands were at her waist and he picked her up off the floor, sitting her down on the marble countertop. The stone was cool against the heated bare skin of her legs, only emphasizing how powerfully she responded to this man to whom she'd tried so hard to be immune.

"That's too bad."

"Huh, oh, um, why?" she asked, trying to shake some sense into her still fuzzy brain.

"Because I think you should have lots of special things, Doc."

"You do? Be careful, Wyatt, you might soften me up."

"I'm willing to risk it. I think I'd like the soft parts of you very much."

His right hand slid up from her waist slowly, taking extra time as he grazed some of those soft parts he had referenced, leaving a trail of tingly fire in his wake, until he finally rested his large, rough hand in the curve of her neck, wrapping his fingers around her smooth skin.

"How can you think that? You don't even know me."

"Because you won't let me. I know you well enough that you asked me to pick you up last night."

"I blame the martinis and my itchy texting finger. It was horny and it wouldn't listen to reason."

"Hmm, so that's your story now? In that case, I think I like that finger. Which one is it?" he asked with a turn of his lips that creased one cheek. Wyatt lightly lifted her right hand and held it to his face. With the slightest movement of his tongue, he drew her index finger into his warm mouth and sucked it inside. After a moment, he let it slide slowly off his lower lip.

"Is it that finger? Because I like that one already."

"Sometimes I text with that one, but I was in a hurry, so… You should maybe meet the thumb, too." Jenna's heartbeat seemed so loud in her ears, it was almost embarrassing.

"Oh really? This thumb," he whispered, and then pulled the flesh into his mouth by his teeth and Jenna couldn't help but let her body arch toward his. Her brain was still in that hazy zone somewhere between hungover and maybe still a little tipsy, and every touch of Wyatt's tongue on her flesh was making her feel as though her whole body was quivering.

"Yeah, that thumb."

Wyatt licked a circle along the center of her palm. He was looking up at her and she could sense the excitement in him, but also the hesitance, and that drove her even more crazy.

"Was it only the texting fingers that wanted to see me?" he whispered against her hand, his warm breath making her tingle deeply throughout her body. It was as though each word and every breath from his mouth were pulling a thread on the torn sweater of Jenna's resolve until she was completely unraveled before him. "I asked you a question, belleza."

"Oh it's
belleza
now? I guess that's progress."

Wyatt gripped Jenna's wrist harder and bit the fleshy part of her palm hard until she squealed.

"Hey!" she cried, trying to jerk her hand away, but he just pulled her back and forced her to look in to his eyes.

"I asked you a question. Did
you
want to see
me
?"

She instantly looked away. Her brain wanted to lie — to pretend it was all a drunken mistake — but she knew she couldn't do that, not when she was staring down the prospect that had filled her with terror since she was six years old. The mere idea she could be a frail, helpless woman lying in a hospital bed set her heart to racing and it was just too exhausting to lie about
everything
.

"I'm waiting," he said sternly, and Jenna let herself look into his eyes that were so forceful, yet there was a warmth in there that she couldn't place.

If I just focus on that look, then I don't have to feel so alone — so scared.

"I wanted to see you, Wyatt."

"And why's that?" he whispered, leaning forward and nibbling on the part of her body where her neck met her shoulder, and Jenna was sure her whole body had turned to
Jell-O
.

"Um, because…I wanted to be alone with you," she gasped out, noticing that one of his hands was swirling a tight circle against her bare waist, underneath his tee shirt. "I wanted to look at you. To feel the way I feel when you're near me. I don't know what any of it means, but I know I felt that way."

"And how do you feel now, belleza?" Wyatt's other hand slid its way down the side of her body until it found her hip and gripped her tightly.

"I feel like I want to make good on what I tried to start last night."

Pleased with her answer, he smiled and trailed his tongue across the raised mound of her palm until he reached her thumb again, sucking it firmly into his mouth.

Everything was getting away from her and Jenna knew she needed some kind of control — to stop or go full forward, and it suddenly became so clear to her which one it had to be. She spread her legs wider. Her hot thighs slid across the cool granite, allowing his firm hips to fall heavily between her legs. She could feel his hard muscles, and already firm length pressed hard against her pulsing core.

Wyatt grinned and opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't fuck this up by talking, Wyatt," Jenna said, her eyes locked on his and her thumb still firmly in his mouth. She slowly dragged the thumb out and wrapped the rest of her hand around his chin, and pressed her lips on his.

That was the last moment of control she had before Wyatt quickly took both his hands and grabbed her ass, pressing her roughly against him until she was practically writhing against his body. Jenna moaned and pressed her lips more firmly against his.

His lips were soft and his tongue was insistent, and he tasted so damn good. It was all teeth and lips and delayed gratification — so potent that Jenna felt like her chest would explode. As Wyatt squeezed her bottom and brought her against him again, he thrust just slightly against the cotton of her panties and groaned heavily.

He leaned back and looked in her eyes, and it was only then that Jenna realized she had fistfuls of his hair in each hand. His lips were wet and swollen and all she wanted to do was to kiss him again.

So she did.

But this time it was softer, more sensual, she could feel each little crinkle of his full lips and the scratch of his stubble on her soft skin. Each touch was like gasoline on her already wildfire-level of excitement, and she didn't want it to cool down. If she was going to do this, she was going to be all in, but he leaned back from her and a groan of protest escaped her lips.

"Hey, get back here," she whispered, yanking him toward her, within an inch of her lips.

"Are you sure, Doc?"

"Shh, I told you not to talk," she answered, her lips twisting into a smirk, and he chuckled slightly. He leaned her backward, so her bottom tipped up, and slid her panties down her legs.

Wyatt tore off the tee shirt he'd given her and popped her bra open in one smooth motion and stared at her, looking her up and down, until she suddenly became uncomfortable. Jenna slowly reached her arms up to cover herself, but he grabbed her hands and pinned them back on the counter, covering hers with his own.

"No. That's not happening. I want to look at you. I feel like I've wanted to look at you for forever. Fuck. I think you're going to make me go insane. I may have to lock you up here just so I can keep looking at you."

Jenna started to roll her eyes, but Wyatt took one of her heavy breasts into his hand and licked the flesh softly, then blowing against it until Jenna was groaning and those same eyes rolled back into her head. Her nipples were so hard and tight, that it was almost painful.

She'd spent a large part of her life trying to hide her figure. It's hard to be taken seriously as a surgeon in the sports world when you have blonde hair and big breasts.

No matter how many times Aubrey and Tea pushed her to show off her body, it always felt more like a burden than anything else. Yet, Jenna quietly thanked each stroke of genetic fate and every brutal hour she endured of yoga, swimming, and jogging that created the body and face that now perched on this cool countertop — because nothing felt better than having Wyatt's gorgeous face buried in her cleavage and gripping her tight thighs. Jenna felt at once powerful and overtaken, and it was amazing.

"I need more of you. I want to lay you out in front of me," he growled against her nipple, until it sounded like the best idea she'd ever heard.

"Hurry up, Wyatt, because if I don't feel you inside me soon, I'm going to have to take matters into my own hands."

"As much as I'd like to see you try that…" he said, trailing off before he scooped her up, wrapping her legs around his waist and kissing her mouth and throat while he carried her quickly to his bedroom.

"Wyatt, your shoulder!"

"Fuck my shoulder."

"That wasn't really what I had in mind. I'm more interested in taking advantage of the rest of your body," she teased. "But I don't want you to hurt yourself more."

"I told you, it's not as bad as you think. Ow."

"Dammit, put me down, Wyatt, you're going to hurt yourself."

"Stop it, woman. I just banged my knee on the doorway while you were distracting me. Now, back to bed with you, you're talking too much," he said, with a low chuckle. Wyatt threw her down in the middle of the mound of sheets and covers that once were his relatively tidy bed. She began to compulsively try to smooth down the sheets in some misplaced attempt to be a good guest.