Doing It Over (A Most Likely to Novel Book 1) (16 page)

He captured her hand and pressed it into his cheek before kissing her palm.

She melted. His soft smile and tiny insecurity empowered something inside her and made her want him all the more. Melanie dropped her paintbrush and pressed her lips to his.

She heard his brush hit the ground and felt his hand reach around her waist to pull her close.

He warmed the chill the outside brought to her skin and deepened their kiss. The familiar swipe of his tongue against her lips had her opening. He tasted like hops and barley and felt like home.

As her eyes closed and he tilted her head back, she knew this night was going to end in satisfaction instead of frustration.

Melanie ran a hand down his hips and pressed as close as she could.

Wyatt moaned and pulled away. “You’re killing me.”

She giggled and lifted her knee to run against his leg. “You dropped your paintbrush.”

“Fuck the paintbrush.”

His lips found hers again with hot, impatient kisses. Wyatt lifted her offered leg and wrapped it around his waist as he backed her up against the back of Josie’s bar. His hips pushed against her, the heat and friction of him made her stomach spasm. Made her want.

Wyatt pulled away, then changed his mind and returned with a force that made her breath catch in the back of her throat.

He held her against the wall, his hands rounded on her ass, kept her pinned, and seemed content to kiss her until she wept for air. Only her body wanted more than air, she wanted more.

It was her turn to pull away. “Take me to your castle, Wyatt.”

He hesitated, his lips hovering over hers, his breath short and hot. “What about the inn?”

She shook her head. “One guest. Miss Gina said . . .” Melanie didn’t elaborate. “It’s fine.”

He kissed her again, sucked her lip between his teeth and gave a tiny bite. “You’re sure?”

“Are you going to make me beg?”

His eyes grew wide, his grin even wider before he released her and wrapped his fingers around hers. Wyatt started toward his truck, then detoured to the back door of the bar. He poked his head inside and yelled. “We’ll be back in the morning, Josie.”

Laughter followed them as they drove away.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Wyatt’s home sat on the opposite side of town from R&B’s. The single-story ranch sat on a little bit of land, as did most of the homes in the area. As a kid she’d passed this place continually en route to her family home, which sat on a hill behind his.

The house was dark with the exception of a single porch light.

They’d driven to his house with only a few words.

Are you sure about this?

More than sure.

It was the holding of her hand the entire trip to his home that turned her to mush. The cab of Wyatt’s truck wasn’t exactly small, and his reach had to be uncomfortable . . . but he held it anyway.

He pulled into the driveway, then lifted a finger in the air when she reached for the door. “Hold up.”

She let go of the handle and waited for him to run around the truck to open the door for her.

“You’re crazy.”

“A little,” he agreed as he grasped her hand and tucked her into his side. “The house isn’t as bad as Luke led you to believe.”

The second her foot stepped through the front door, she thought Luke had it completely right. The bare living room held a couch, a hillbilly coffee table, and a TV.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asked as he led her to his kitchen. Obviously this was one of the finished rooms. Granite countertops and modern appliances were the cornerstone of the warm and inviting space. Brushed nickel pulls on the aged maple cabinets matched the longneck faucet over the sink. Melanie was innately happy Wyatt wasn’t into a cold, modern style of living with hard edges and uninviting surfaces.

“I’m good,” she told him. After turning a full circle, she asked for a bathroom.

“I have two, but the one in my bedroom is the only one working.”

She pointed down the hall. “That way?”

“End of the hall, double doors.”

She passed a couple of closed doors before making her way into Wyatt’s bedroom. Rustic wood furniture filled in the generous space. Dark colors adorned his unmade bed and a copy of Lee Child’s latest novel sat on the side table. One rustic red wall accented the room and drew her eye to a single piece of art. The Oregon coast with sea cliffs and crashing waves was captured in the same muted tones of the room, blending perfectly with the decor. To say she was impressed would have been an understatement.

When she stepped into the bathroom and switched on the light, she let out a tiny gasp.

The space was huge compared to most of the homes in River Bend. A deep vessel bathtub sat in front of a large window, the double vanity had glass sinks and a furniture base that she would never have thought would work together, but they did. It was the shower that was the most impressive, however. She couldn’t help but duck inside the space and gawk. A rain showerhead hovered on the ceiling with a fixed head on one side and a removable one on the other. The glass enclosure kept the space bright and cheery despite the dark tiles that covered the wall. It was stunning . . . all of it.

She caught her reflection in the mirror while she was washing her hands a couple of minutes later.

What a mess. Paint was everywhere, her eyes held tiny circles from many late nights and not enough sleep. How could Wyatt look at her and do anything but cringe?

She removed the band from her hair and attempted to run her fingers through it and untangle some of the mess a labor-filled day caused.

It only looked worse.

She undid one of the buttons on her blouse and pushed her breasts a little higher in her bra before letting her hands drop to her sides. There wasn’t anything remotely sexy about her at two in the morning, she decided.

Second and third thoughts about being with Wyatt started to seep in. Not that she didn’t want the next step, but that he might realize that a woman like her might not measure up. Then the most disturbing thought of all came from nowhere . . . had Wyatt ever slept with a woman who had a child before? Melanie lifted her shirt and patted her mostly flat stomach.

A soft knock on the door had her tugging her shirt back down.

“You get lost in there?”

“Ah, no.” She scrambled with nerves leading her actions. She turned on the water and let it run for a second before turning it off. The reflection in the mirror laughed at her before she stopped watching it and walked away.

Wyatt stood outside the door, a cocky grin lingering on his face. “I was starting to worry.”

Melanie ran a hand over her hair, knew it was useless. “It’s a nice bathroom.” She wasn’t usually a nervous laughter kinda girl, but that was starting to change. “I’m a mess.”

“You’re beautiful.”

She leaned against the door frame and tried to feel the smile. “I look about as sexy as a wet cat.”

Wyatt’s eyes did a slow dance down her frame and took their time moving back up. A warm shiver had her catching her breath.

He took a step toward her and pulled her back into the bathroom. He sat her on the edge of the tub and turned toward the shower. He had the water flowing and the bright lights in the room dimmed to a romantic glow that made Melanie smile.

He leaned down and pulled her shoes off one at a time. All the while she watched him. Wyatt ran the edge of his thumb on her instep once her sock left her foot, and moved to the next. With her shoes to the side, he placed both hands on her bare knees and smiled up at her. Then, without notice, he grasped her hips and lifted her off the tub and carried her to the shower.

“I’m still dressed,” she offered a protest.

“So am I.” But he took them both into the warm spray of water anyway.

She giggled when he set her back on her feet.

He pushed her hair out of her face and tilted it so the spray could saturate each strand. And when she opened her eyes, Wyatt was staring with a hooded gaze that made her feel beautiful.

Melanie ran her hands up his chest and grasped the edges of his T-shirt. He ducked and helped her remove it. She allowed her hands to run over the smooth muscles of his chest. “Nice,” she mumbled.

“Your turn,” he said before reaching for the buttons of her shirt. The water made slipping the buttons through the holes difficult, but he managed and brushed the shirt away as if it were an annoyance. Strong hands cupped the sides of her breasts through her bra, and Wyatt’s lips replaced his gaze. The graze of his teeth made a path from the top of one breast to the other before he slipped one strap down her shoulder and kissed her there. She felt her knees give out just a little and Wyatt steadied her. “None of that,” he whispered.

“Can’t help it,” she said.

He lifted his kiss and turned her away from him.

He filled his palm with shampoo and ran his hands through her hair and followed the suds down her shoulders and back. He ran a finger between her bra and skin before snapping apart the clasp and tossing the garment over the top of the glass door.

She glanced at him over her shoulder with a smile. He found soap and lathered his hands before running them over her back and slipping around to follow the curve of her chest. Even in the heated water, her nipples tightened with his touch as she pushed into his palms. He didn’t linger there; instead he kept moving his soap filled palms over every inch of her exposed skin.

Her shorts proved a little difficult with wet denim, so she helped with the snap and the zipper and let him draw them down along with her panties, her back still to him.

Wyatt kept her from slipping as he brought one leg out of her shorts at a time. The two met her bra outside the shower. When he returned, his hands started at her thighs and explored. Slow movements cleaned the less private areas, leaving her breathless with only a touch.

He leaned into her, the feel of his jeans rough on her skin, and kissed the side of her neck. “I’ve thought about you in here, like this,” he told her.

Melanie rested the back of her head on his shoulder and let the water cascade over her. “I like your shower.”

He turned her around, captured her lips, and pressed her into the cool tiles. The heat, his kiss . . . the chill of the wall, all of it made her shiver and reach for him. When her hands slid past his waist, she fumbled with the button of his jeans and pulled.

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.