Velvet Kisses(38)

I head into Wyatt’s office with a cheery, “Good morning!”

Wyatt stands like the gentleman he is. His exaggerated good looks are like meeting up with a brick wall at a hundred miles an hour, jarring and intensely possessive. His dark hair is wavy and thick, and my fingers beg to run through it. His lips are made for kissing. My own lips can attest to that. We haven’t touched first base since that night at the bar, Valentine’s of all nights, but my mouth has been watering for him ever since. It took more strength than I have in me not to penetrate him with my tongue. There were so many other things my body begged to do with his that night, and had I started I wouldn’t have been able to stop. Annie’s brothers would have had to chase me out of there with a hose. My body aches just looking at Wyatt like this, broad shoulders, chest of steel, that knowing grin—because, let’s face it, he knows he’s a god. That, in and of itself, is what keeps his bed fueled with eager women. And tomorrow night, it’ll be fueled with the most eager version of me.

“Morning.” I clear my throat, holding up two cups of fresh brewed Joe. “I dragged it all the way from Hallowed Grounds. Hope you don’t mind, but they make the best mocha lattes in my opinion.”

“I trust your opinion.” Wyatt’s fingers brush against my hand as he takes his cup, and a live current travels up my arm.

His gaze hooks onto mine, and we’re caught in this wild erotic exchange that leaves both our chests heaving. My stomach melts in a puddle of quivers. If simply brushing against him elicits such a viral response, the probability of me combusting into flames tomorrow night is as good as done. Not that a few flames here and there are about to stop me. I’ll bring a fire extinguisher if I have to—hell, I’ll wear fire retardant. Very little is going to stop me from landing horizontal, and vertical, and any other position he demands I contort myself into.

He steps forward, close enough to where I can feel the heat emanating off his body, and my face turns into a flame.

Wyatt reaches up and gently rubs my cheek.

“You have an eyelash.” He touches his thumb to my lips, and a spasm rails through me all the way down to that tender part of me that craves him most. “Make a wish.”

My breathing picks up as our eyes bear into one another, wide and filled with a lust-driven inferno.

I blow a slow breath over his thumb, and, like a reflex, my lips touch over it with a hard, pressing kiss.

An approving dimple recedes in his cheek, so I go for it. My mouth covers his digit, and I begin on a suck-fest that feels as if it spans hours, although, in reality, it’s more like thirty seconds.

Wyatt gives a visceral groan as if somehow the fact I’m deep-throating his thumb had translated to a more poignant part of his body that is far more eager to experience my suck and pull maneuver. I lash my tongue around him, hot and wet, as I command another achingly loud groan from his throat.

If his thumb were able to ejaculate, I think I’d be forced with the decision whether or not to swallow right about now.

“Whoa.” He pulls out slowly and holds his hands up as if this were a sexual stickup. “If this goes on any longer, we’re going to have one hard situation on our hands.” He turns just enough and jostles his package as if begging that 747 in his pants not to take flight.

I clear my throat. “Got it.”

“Um”—he swallows hard, still straining to hold it together—“what were we discussing again?”

“Opinions.” I give a little shrug. “Something to do with coffee.”

“Right.” He closes his eyes a moment, catching his bearings. “There is something else I’d like your opinion on. But I need your honest gut. You don’t need to be nice about it. It’s a business decision.”

Business decision—that would be me. I bite down on a private smile.

“Expanding the parameters of the contract so soon? Let me guess. You’d like to include an exhaustive clause on the benefits of outdoor calisthenics—in the nude. Don’t worry, cowboy. I’ve been eyeing that barn of yours for quite sometime now.”

“The barn is a given.” He snatches his keys off the desk and holds the door open for me. “Although, a roll in the hay is a little less comfortable than you’d imagine.”

“I’m up for roughing it for the sake of research.”

“Is that what you’re doing with me? Is this strictly research?” He’s teasing, but that doesn’t stop my heart from lodging in my throat.

“God, no.” I’m quick to head his way. New golden rule: Leave all subjects of my future memoir in the proverbial dark. Subject Number Two need not know what additional purpose I might have planned for his bedroom skills. “I meant experimentation,” I say as we get on the elevator. The door closes with a quiet whoosh and Wyatt and I are suddenly confined in a cushioned silence. “This feels slightly uncomfortable,” I say without reason. When I’m nervous the verbal diarrhea spews without my permission. “I can’t help feeling a bit predatory around you, Professor James.” I mock curtsey. God, he’s going to think I’m insane. I’m not insane, am I?