Page 55 of Caught Up In You

And nothing else.

The jacket is entirely too big for her, which is a real shame, because it means the red-and-black hem rests just below the curve of her ass. The black leather sleeves fall well past her hands, and the only exposed skin is the thin, milky-white column from her neck down to the band of her lace panties.

I set the wine bottle down with a dull thud, because I don’t trust myself to pour with this woman standing in front of me. I can practically hear the blood rushing through my body, all heading in one direction.

“I figured you’d go for the sweatpants,” I say, my tongue feeling thick in my mouth.

She smirks. “I had a moment alone in your bedroom. You think I wasn’t going to do a little snooping?”

“Seems like you found something interesting.” Last year my dad turned the room in his house where Felix and I onceslept into a home gym to help with rehab from his accident. He delivered boxes of our high school memorabilia early one Saturday morning, and I remember thinking,What the hell am I supposed to do with all this shit?

I’ve never been so thankful for the pang of nostalgia that made me put it all away in my closet.

“I did.” Wyatt pokes her delicate hand out one of the sleeves and runs her finger along the red felted letter on the breast and the little black, red, and white emblems sewn onto it. “Baseball and soccer, huh? I didn’t know you played soccer. And is this one cross-country?”

I nod, my breath already ragged. I work to get control of myself, even though my teenage fantasy is standing in front of me.

“And this one?” Her finger lands on a little circle with a torch embroidered on it, just over where I imagine her nipple must be, pebbled and pink beneath the jacket.

“National Honor Society,” I tell her, my voice gravelly as I struggle to control my breathing. I grip the counter, partially to keep me upright, partially to keep me from hurdling this kitchen island and pressing her against the wall.

The corner of her full red lip quirks, her eyebrow arching sharply. “You were the valedictorian, weren’t you?”

All I can do is nod, my eyes following that finger, which is now running up the stretch of bare skin between the buttons. Well, bare save for the black scrollwork that spreads beneath the jacket and dips down to her sternum. I can see now that it’s a network of curling stems and leaves, dotted with little flowers that look like stars. I want nothing more than to peel that jacket off her body and appreciate the whole canvas.

“Such a good boy,” she purrs. “I was busy smoking under the bleachers while you hit home runs and did logarithms or whatever.”

I can’t help but laugh.

“Math was never my best subject,” I confess.

“Poor baby, what did you get, a B?”

I laugh, but I shake my head. Wyatt laughs.

“Oh my god, Owen. Straight A’s? Of course,” she teases. “I sure would have liked trying to corrupt you.”

“I don’t think you would have had to try very hard,” I say.

Her eyes leave mine only to follow the trail of her finger as it hooks into the opening of the jacket, just next to the varsity letter. She slowly—soslowly—drags it open until I finally see that pretty pink nipple…and the silver ring through it.

“Would you have let me wear your letter jacket?”

I swallow hard, using every bit of control I have to keep myself still. I know I have to let her come to me, but fuck, I want to rush her, take that nipple between my lips, the ring between my teeth. I want to throw her over my shoulder and march her to my bedroom.

But I stay stone still.

“Only so I could take it off of you,” I say.

She hums, dragging her finger in a lazy circle around her nipple, then pausing to give the ring a gentle tug. My cock throbs, practically reaching for her.

“You sure this is what you want?” she asks, raising her hooded eyes back to mine. She slips the jacket down over her other shoulder to reveal the matching ring in her other nipple, the constellation of stars tattooed just over her breast. I watch her, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, a study in contrasts between the milky-white skin and the bold swirls of ink, the soft swell of her breasts and belly and the glint of the metal rings in her nipples and navel.

She looks tough and…delicate.

And I want her.

Wyatt sinks her teeth into her full bottom lip, just barely suppressing a smile. But the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. I can almost feel her slight intake of breath, how she holds it, before her voice comes out husky and low. “I can’t be your girlfriend, Owen.”

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