Wish for You (13 page)

“
We’re home,” Wyatt says, cutting the engine once more.

I open my eyes but, for some reason, I can’t move. My hands are locked, tightly gripped around my seatbelt. “No,” I whisper.

“
Hang on, sweetheart.” Wyatt jumps out of his truck, racing around the front to open my door. I look at him, helpless and hating myself. “Tell me about class today.”

“
Which one?” I ask, his hands covering mine. His skin is so hot that it’s scalding.

“
You’re favorite one.”

“
Parisitology.”

He gives me a look. “Parasites?”

“
How to get rid of them,” I say, my hands growing warmer by the second. “How to prevent them, how to make sure they don’t come back and kill the host.” Sometimes I feel like a parasite, always having to depend on someone else to live.

“
Hey, hey.” His hands leave mine to cup my face. “I know that look. It’s not true. Asking for or needing help does not make you a parasite.”

“
Sometimes I think it does.”

“
It makes you smart.” His thumb strokes my jaw. “I always traveled with a battle buddy during the war. Does that mean I was a parasite?”

“
Symbiotic relationship?”

He touches his forehead to mine. “Beautiful girl, why do you fight me? Why do you think I don’t—” He lifts his head and kisses my cheek. “I don’t want to argue. I want to eat. Ready?”

“
My hands,” I remind him. “They’re—”

Picking one of my hands up, he gently curls and uncurls my fingers. “All better.” Then he unfastens my seatbelt and helps me out of his truck. “Let’s go inside, Lawless.”

“
I don’t feel like eating,” I say.

“
You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

A few minutes later, we’re inside and I walk to my bedroom, toeing off my shoes and taking off my socks. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I change out of my jeans and shirt into a loose pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt that has I Love Bacon on it. Only instead of the meat, there is a guy’s face.

Picking up the picture of my family, I look at it, at their smiling faces, tracing each person in it with the tip of my finger. Loneliness overwhelms me, sudden, brutal, and sharp. I set the frame down and sink to the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees. I start to shake, but I clench my teeth from crying out. I’ve done this before, without anyone knowing.

All I have to do is keep quiet and count the seconds.

All I have to do is keep quiet and count the minutes.

All I have to do is keep quiet and—

“
Just wanted to check on you before I crashed for the n—
Motherfucker
.” Wyatt picks me up and places me on the bed. He practically wraps his body around mine. “You’re freezing.” He rubs one of my arms, warming up the skin, while I stare at the ceiling and come back to myself. “Lacey?”

“
I’m here,” I say softly. He exhales, obviously relieved that the freak show won’t be happening tonight.

“
Do you want me to stay or go?” His voice is in my ear, hot and tantalizing. I don’t want him to stay, and yet, I don’t want him to go.

I roll to my side to face him. He brushes my bangs out of my eyes, and I get a clear view of his shirtless chest. All he has on is a pair of pajama bottoms, and that’s it. I swallow, forcing my eyes up. “I don’t know.”

He gives me a lopsided smile. “That’s an honest answer.”

That grin gives the courage to do something I’d never thought I would do again.

I make the first move.

Be brave. Be strong.

Gathering my courage, I touch his arm, tracing the tiger near his shoulder. He sucks in a breath.

“
Lacey?”

“
I want to touch this again. I want to touch them all.” Each tattoo has a meaning, and each time he got one, he explained the symbolism behind it.

“
For me, the tiger represents the Tanakas, back in feudal Japan, when the West wanted to change… and they said no. My great-great-great-great grandfather refused to put his sword down, and he was punished for it, but the Kanji for tora or tiger also means hope. They found hope in the West, and not just sorrow,” he says, ending his story with a heart-pounding grin.

“
You’d make a great storyteller,” I say, sitting on the stool beside him as the tattoo artist bandages him up.

Always, he answered my questions with patience. Meanwhile, I ended our relationship with a half-truth. Maybe I’m not so good for him after all. I so want to be good for him.

I let my hand wander over to his chest, my fingers gliding along. I trail them over his nipples, watching them harden. I have the sudden urge to lick him there, to take those in my mouth and bite. Would he like that? Would I like that?

His body jerks. “
Jesus
.”

I grin a little. Both of us would like it, I think. The brief time we’d been together, I’d paid attention to everything. Every sigh, every groan… every curse. When his body bucked against my hands, when his lips parted… when he’d smile and then bite his lip. I want to see that, to feel that, and to make him bite
my
lip.

Tilting my head to one side, I study his face. His skin is a little pale, and there are dark circles under his eyes. His mother is right. Wyatt hasn’t been smiling much at all, only I’m not sure if I’m the one to save him.

But I want to. I want to make him smile, make him laugh, and put the light back in his eyes. I want
my
Wyatt back.

“
The old Wyatt is dead. The one you see standing before you is the one you’ll have to deal with from now on, buddy.”

Sadness overwhelms me, and tears prick at my eyes. How can he say that about himself? I loved the old Wyatt. I love the Wyatt lying in bed, old or new. My hands hover over him.

“
Don’t stop,” he says, his voice low. “Don’t stop touching me.
Please
.”

“
I won’t.” I lean into him. Our lips are so close that I can feel the heat of his skin against mine, so close that I can smell the soap he uses, so close that all I have to do is close my eyes and move just a little. But that little space seems as wide as the Grand Canyon.

A long lock of my hair falls on his chest. My gaze flies to his. His eyes glitter and one of his hands comes to rest behind my neck, not making me move. But I want to move; I want to touch him with more than my hands.

It’s now or never.

I close the distance between us, letting my lips brush against his. I feel him tense under me, and then… his mouth opens under mine, our tongue gliding and tangling together, making me burn and burn and burn.

The taste of him, of
my
Wyatt, is addicting. It’s bittersweet, and I make a little face. He didn’t taste like this before, not that it matters. I want him and I’m finally kissing him, finally touching him. I’m finally back where I’ve always wanted to be.

He groans, his free hand traveling over my body, up and down my back, cupping my butt. He pulls me closer to him, so close I can feel how he hard is.
Everywhere
.

With a little maneuvering, I straddle him and press down where he’s hard. He groans and bites at my bottom lip. His hands go to my hips, applying pressure and lifting his hips against me.

“
Oh.” I grind down on him. I’m getting hotter, wetter, and greedier. I want more. Breaking our kiss, I take off my shirt, my bare breasts inches from his face. His hands leave my hips, coasting up my sides, like he has to remain in constant contact with my body.

“
I want those tight, pink nipples in my mouth. Now.” He leans up, capturing one in his hot mouth, and I gasp. A corresponding tug between my thighs accompanies each suck. He teases me, going back and forth between the two, his hands under each breast, his lips moving, and his tongue licking. I can’t stop staring or moving against him. I’m becoming overheated, my skin growing damp. Wyatt’s is as well. Our bodies rub together easily.

He flips me to my back and latches on to a hard nipple, biting at it, a little harder, but I like it. He does it again. I really like it. Then he looks at me to gauge my reaction.

“
Again.” I don’t like it. I
love
it.

Taking my other nipple between his fingers, he pinches and tugs. I murmur my approval, running my hands over his shoulders and down the broad planes of his back.

He kisses me lower and lower still, making a path with his tongue. When he gets to my pajama bottoms, he tugs them off, leaving me wearing nothing but my panties.

“
Let’s leave those on.”

Disappointed, I start to ask him why, but his head dips and he pushes the material to one side. I feel the sharp bite of cold air before his warm, soft tongue licks me. My hips buck, sending his tongue deeper.

“
Ah… more, Wyatt.” I can’t stop talking as he licks and plays with me. “There. Lick my pussy, right there. I want your tongue deep.”

He growls and rips my panties off. I can actually hear the fabric tear, and it thrills me.

Taking my legs, he places one on each of his shoulders and dives right back in. This time, he adds a finger, sinking it deep on the second try. My inner walls clench around him, and I writhe on the bed. It’s not enough, yet it’s too much.

He adds another finger, and I groan.

Looking up at me, he smiles, his lips shiny. He licks them and closes his eyes, like he’s savoring the taste of me. He plunges his fingers in and out. “Damn, baby. This hot little pussy is driving me crazy. I want to fill it so bad with my dick.”

I grab at my pillow, at the sheets, and then sink my fingers into his silky, black hair. “Do it. I want your… your…” My back arches off the bed when he finds a spot inside of me I didn’t think was possible to touch.

“
Cock.”

“
Yes
. I want your cock in my pussy. In my mouth. I don’t care… I need something.” I have no idea why I’m saying all this. Maybe because it’s Wyatt, and I love him, and I trust him, and it’s always been him. We spent so much time together before this, so much time with him not caring what I said, what I tried to say, or what I wanted to say. He just kissed me and held me and—

His hair brushes the inside of my thigh, and then he sucks on my clitoris. My hips shoot off the bed, and he rams his fingers inside of me. I let out a little scream, coming and coming and coming. I hadn’t known it would be so hard, be so good, and make me want to laugh and cry and throw out my arms in complete satisfaction. Wyatt sucks harder and I see sparks, then his tongue is lapping at me, bringing me down from my high.

“
Oh my God,” I pant. “That was… Oh my God.”

“
Shit. I’m so sorry. I was rough.” But I notice he doesn’t move away. “Are you okay?”

I’m more than okay. “Yes.”

“
Good. Damn it.” He rests his head on my thigh, his long lashes tickling my skin. “I’m not… supposed to be that rough. You were a virgin.”

I fix my gaze on his. He looks upset, and that’s the last thing I want him to be. “Technically, I’m still a virgin, because you haven’t put your cock in me. Besides, the hymen isn’t located that far inside, if I even had one. It’s closer to the entrance of my vagina. When girls take part in vigorous sports, they tend to lose—”

He kisses me, right between my thighs, and I jump a little, but his fingers remain firmly in place. “Only you could make something scientific sound so fucking sexy.”

“
Science is sexy,” I tell him solemnly.

“
There’s a future t-shirt for you.”

I can’t believe we’re having a conversation like this with his fingers inside me. I can’t believe that we’re having a conversation at all. I’m nude. He’s not… and shouldn’t we be fixing that?

“
Are we going to have sex?” My chest heaves. For once, my heart is racing in a good way. “Or at least, let me take care of you? I want you to teach me how to give a blow job.”

His eyes widen. Suddenly, his fingers are gone and while he’s physically in the same room, it feels as though he’s miles away.

“
Wyatt?” I can’t bring myself to ask what’s wrong, because I know the answer will be me. That he’s regretting being with me, with my stupid talking and questions. “I didn’t mean to other guys. Just you. I only want to be with you. I’ve never wanted to be with anyone else. I’ve never been with anyone else.” Even as I confess this, he’s a million miles away, and I’m not sure if he’s heard anything I said. My heart pounds, and my stomach roils.