Page 80 of Wanting Wentworth

He was hurt and I have a feeling that letting me know that—exposing himself—is something he doesn’t do very often. Letting the notebook fall closed, I look up to see the sun crest the horizon, shooting the sky full of pink and gold. From inside the barn, Two-tone gives me a soft nicker, letting me know it’s time to go.

FORTY-FIVE

Kaitlyn

When I get to Northpoint, it’s dark. the house quiet. The curtains covering the windows facing the lake, drawn tight. More disappointed than I should be, I slide out of my saddle. Uncinching it from around Two-tone’s belly, I give him his rub down before walking him into the paddock.

“You know the drill,” I tell him, giving him a pat on his flank. “Try to stay out of trouble.”

Using my key, I let myself in through the back door, immediately stopping to take of my boots because I’m the one who has to sweep and mop the floors and I’m not about to make more work for myself. Setting them near the back door, I pad my way through the mud room and into a dark quiet kitchen, the open space between the me and the living room illuminated by a single lamp—the one sitting on the table Went’s been using as a workspace, its soft light barely strong enough to push through the dark.

Instead of turning on the kitchen lights and starting the business of cleaning up after Went whether he wants me to or not, I leave them off. Cutting across the dark living room, I make my way toward the desk.

Because leaving the light on feels intentional.

Because I think Went wants me to.

Stopping in front of it, I look down and the air rushes out of my chest in a single heave like I’ve been kicked by a horse.

On the desk in front of me is a drawing.

Went and me, on the dock.

Naked.

Fucking.

The angle of the drawing is as if I’m him, looking down at the place where we’re joined. Kneeling between my open legs. Hands gripped around my hips to angle them just right to take his cock. My pussy wet and stretched tight around the thick shaft of it. Mouth open on a moan no one can hear but me.

The picture is covered in dried semen—thick ropes of it—and I imagine Went standing over it, aroused. Jeans unbuttoned and jerked down around his hips. Hand fisted around his hard cock. Pumping and stroking himself while he stared at the drawing he did of us until he came.

Looking at it, I wait to feel uncomfortable or maybe even disgusted. I don’t feel either of those things.

At the bottom of the page is a single word, written in Went’s long, lazy scrawl.

Anything.

My nipples tighten and swell in an instant. My pussy goes slick and starts to ache.

Anything.

Before I can talk myself out of it because I’m crazy—this is crazy—I turn away from the desk and make way back the way I came. I don’t stop in the kitchen. I don’t turn on the lights and start a pot of coffee. Start the blondies I planned on baking before he woke up.

All of that can wait.

This can’t.

I can’t.

Not anymore.

Taking the stairs slowly, I walk the dark hall to the end of it. Stopping in front of the set of double doors, I palm the knob and give it a turn, opening it quietly on the master suite. Slipping inside, I close the door behind me.

Went is in bed, sleeping on his stomach. Face turned away from the door. Sheets pooled around his waist, exposing his long, muscular back. His broad, powerful shoulders. The intricate swirls of color tattooed into his smooth, golden skin.

He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

Suddenly nervous because he’s too beautiful and despite everything he’s said and written to me over the past few weeks, there’s no way someone who looks like him would ever want someone like me. I nearly turn away from him so I can fling the door open and run but then he moves. Sits up and looks at me like he wasn’t sleeping after all. Like he’s been lying here, waiting for me.

---