He worked his way down her throat, tasting salt and sweetness, feeling her pulse hammer against his lips. When he reached the swell of her breasts above her bra, he nuzzled into the soft flesh and felt her arch beneath him.
“This needs to go.” He slid a hand beneath her, found the clasp. “I want to see you.”
The lace fell away, and for a moment, Wyatt stared. Dark nipples already peaked. Breasts that fit perfectly in his palms when he cupped them. Her breath caught as he swept his thumbs across her nipples, teasing, testing.
“Sensitive?”
“Yes—God, yes?—”
He lowered his head and took one nipple into his mouth.
She cried out—sharp and needy—her fingers digging into his shoulders. He sucked gently, then harder, then soothed with his tongue while his hand worked her other breast. She writhedbeneath him, her hips lifting in search of friction he wasn’t giving her yet.
“More.” Her voice was ragged. “Wyatt, please, I need more.”
“You’ll get more.” He kissed his way to her other breast, gave it the same attention. “When I’m ready to give it to you.”
His mouth continued its journey south. Over her ribs, feeling them expand with each breath. Across her belly, pausing to trace the soft curve with his lips. When he reached the waistband of her jeans, he looked up.
Her face was flushed, lips parted, eyes glazed with want. The most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“Lift your hips.”
She obeyed, and he stripped the jeans down her legs. Her panties followed—simple cotton, practical, and somehow the sexiest thing he’d ever seen on a woman. She was bare beneath him, spread out on his bed, and his panther rumbled with satisfaction.
He pressed a kiss to her hipbone. “I want to remember every inch of you.”
He settled between her thighs, his shoulders spreading them wider, and heard her breath catch in anticipation. The scent of her arousal hit him—rich and musky and intoxicating—and his mouth watered.
“Wyatt—”
“Let me taste you.” He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh. “Let me make you feel good.”
She didn’t get a chance to respond before his mouth found her.
The first lick was exploratory—learning her, mapping her, finding the spots that made her gasp. She was slick and swollen and so responsive that every touch drew a new sound from her throat. He circled her clit with his tongue, slow and teasing, and felt her thighs tremble.
“Oh God?—”
He slid a finger inside her. Curled it. Found the spot that made her back arch off the bed.
“There—right there?—”
He added a second finger and set a rhythm, his mouth working her clit while his hand drove her higher. She moaned, a constant stream of sound, her fingers tangled in his hair and pulling hard enough to sting.
“Wyatt—I’m going to?—”
“Do it.” He pulled back just long enough to speak. “Come for me.”
He sealed his mouth over her clit and sucked.
She shattered.
Her whole body clenched as the orgasm ripped through her. She cried his name, her thighs squeezing his head, her pussy pulsing around his fingers. He worked her through it, gentling his touch as the tremors eased but not stopping entirely.
“I can’t—” She shook, oversensitive. “That was?—”
“That was one.” He kissed his way back up her body, hovering over her. “I want to feel you do that again. Around my cock.”
