They didn’t give. She tugged harder and failed.
Wyatt smiled through his kiss and helped her. Once the snap was off, the zipper was down; she pushed his hands away and broke their kiss for air. Instead of turning him around, she offered a sly smile and forced her palms between his ass and his jeans and slid them down his hips. Like him, she removed his underwear with his pants and tried not to stare at his erection when she knelt to help him safely remove one foot at a time. Taking his lead, she tossed the soggy clothes outside the shower and continued her exploration. She found soap, lathered her palms, and took her time scrubbing his tight muscles. From knee to hip, up his chest and over his shoulders she lathered and scrubbed. When her fingers slid over the globes of his ass, he hissed and she smiled.
His hands rested on both sides of her against the wall, his attempt, she knew, to keep this slow. When her hand rounded to the front of him and brushed against his erection, he broke.
Hands were everywhere, his lips took hers and weren’t letting go. Between the water and the pleasurable assault of his tongue, she was captured. He lifted her knee, pushed dangerously close.
Melanie felt herself slide and caught his shoulders to keep from falling.
“We’ve got to get out of here before someone gets hurt,” she told him.
He nodded. “And we need a condom.”
Her thoughts exactly.
He shut the water off, stepped out of the shower, and returned with a huge towel to wrap her in. When she attempted to take over the chore of removing the water from her skin, he moved faster, then lifted her in his arms and carried her into his bedroom. “I can walk,” she giggled.
“I’ve got you.”
He placed her on the bed and removed the towel. With a quick brush against his skin, he tossed it to the floor and crawled up beside her.
“Hi,” he said with a smile.
She ran her foot over his thigh. “Hi.”
The chill of the room didn’t last long. His kiss returned where it had left off, only without a threat of slipping and falling, and Melanie closed her eyes to enjoy it. All of it.
He moved down her body, gave her nipple a quick pinch before comforting the tiny sting with his lips and teeth. Had there been a time in her life when she’d been so sexually charged? She couldn’t remember.
She opened for him, felt his fingers spread between her thighs, and when he finally touched her, she moaned. Tiny stars floated in her head as she pushed against his hand. There was no shyness now, no insecurity of how she looked, of her being a mother . . . nothing. It was just her and Wyatt and this incredible moment.
“So wet,” he said before replacing his finger with his tongue.
“Oh, God.” She sighed, caught her breath, and ran a hand through his wet hair as he tasted his fill. And when she was close, so close she felt the rush of the wind on her thighs, he pulled away.
She whimpered.
When he returned, he was covering his erection and teasing her again.
A look in her eyes and a smile was apparently all the encouragement he needed. When he filled her, she wrapped her legs around his waist and met him with every push and pull. When he kissed her, she tasted herself and his smile. When she came for him, he eased his pace, rolled over, and kept going. She clenched every muscle she had and watched his face until she felt a second orgasm forcing her eyes closed.
Then there were stars and Wyatt was calling her name in his release.
They cooked eggs after only a handful of hours of sleep, and sipped coffee. All the while Wyatt kept a hand on her in some way. When they were eating, she rested her feet in his lap and he ate with one hand and rubbed her with the other.
It was incredibly sweet and comforting in a way that the actual act of making love wasn’t. He talked about his vision for his living room and what he wanted it to look like when he was finished.
He asked her about what she liked when it came to design. Melanie didn’t have too many strong opinions, based on the fact that she had never owned a place of her own to give it much thought. “I don’t even have my own bed, Wyatt.”
“It’s okay,” he told her. “You can share mine,” he said with a grin.
Sometime in the night Wyatt had put their clothes in the dryer, making the morning walk of shame a little less damp.
They piled into his truck, and once again he held her hand all the way back to the inn. It was after nine, but Melanie had already sent a text to Miss Gina making sure everything was okay with her absence that morning.
Miss Gina sent her a cartoonish picture of a pair of boots lying beside a bed with a caption saying everything was fine.
Wyatt walked her inside, pinched her butt as she walked up the stairs.
She batted his hand away. “You’re awful.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist and snuggled as they walked inside. It was quiet with only a faint hint of music coming from the back of the house.
“We have muffins,” Melanie said.