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He laughs when I sayepisode. “Yeah? How so?”
“I thought the G-spot might be a myth.”
His eyebrows crinkle. “Really.” He holds up our hands and angles them how he wants, then points toward an area like it’s a display. “It’s actually part of the urethral sponge, a fleshy cushion—”
I burst out laughing and he pauses.
“Too far?” He grimaces.
“I think I prefer the research trial runs to the clinical terms, Dr. Dirty.”
“Noted.”
“Although hearing you say ‘G-spot fucked’ did do something to me,” I admit. “Just don’t say fleshy cushion again when referring to...”
He nods, serious. I can picture him as a medical student taking notes during a lecture.
“There’s a fine line, isn’t there?” he says.
“Yes, definitely a fine line.”
* * *
The next morning,we have sex in the shower. Again, haven’t previously been a fan of sex in any water and especially the shower, but that’s no longer true. Maybe because Cash never made sure I was ready before having sex. Or maybe because he didn’t know what to do with his hands or dick except jab, jab, jab.
But the sounds of Wyatt’s body slapping into mine alone makes me so hot, I’m ready to fire off within minutes. He’s not making me take it slow this morning, thank goodness. He adjusts my body the way he wants it, and I oblige in every way. The man knows how to make a woman feel good.
I wonder if it’s all those studies about the human body or if it’s all his experience in the field.
Yeah, I don’t like to think about that much.
“Where’d you go just now?” he says, out of breath. “Am I hurting you?”
“You feel so good, it has me thinking about all the other women who have enjoyed this before me.”
“There’s nobody but you, Marlow. Nobody but you.”
He pulls my back up to meet his chest, his strokes inside slowing to a leisurely pace as he kisses my neck. We come like that, the slow build lingering long after our bodies are still.
He’s gone before Dakota wakes up, just as he promised.
When I get to work, there’s a blueberry muffin on my desk, and I wear a nonstop smile all day long.
I’m terrified over how easily he’s worked his way into our lives, but for now, it feels too wonderful to fight it.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHT
INTENTIONS
WYATT
The past two weeks have been the best of my life.
Marlow and I have fallen into a routine, and I can honestly say I’ve never been happier.
I leave her place each morning before Dakota gets up, or occasionally, I’ll “show up” with Happy Cow treats or to take them to Sunny Side for breakfast, and the three of us hang out together after I get off work. Sometimes Dakota has eaten dinner already since the earliest I’m off most nights is seven, but when I’m not working, we eat together and go ride Sofie’s horses. And every night, and most mornings if we haven’t overslept, Marlow and I exhaust ourselves in bed.
The past three nights have been tied up with wedding prep. We’ve worked over at Theo and Sofie’s place until it’s time for Dakota to go to bed. Last night after the rehearsal dinner at The Gnarly Vine, I carried Dakota in from the car and helped tuck her in, and my heart turned somersaults when she opened her eyes and patted my face.
