Page 64 of I'll Keep Her Safe

His mouth finds mine again, tongue lapping hungrily at mine as his fingers move up my thigh, brushing my panties. His kiss stops abruptly, and he pulls back again to look at me.

“Fucking hell. You’re soaked.”

I lift my hips, making his hand brush me again. “That’s how much I want you. Now will you stop beating yourself up? This is very, very mutual.”

He groans, his head falling onto my shoulder as his fingers slip into my panties and slide through my wetness.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters into my shoulder. I feel his erection flex against my thigh, but I can’t reach it in this position. I’m desperate to feel him, to take hold of that hardness, but then his fingers push inside me, and my eyes roll back.

“Holy shit,” I breathe, arching into his touch. His thumb strokes my clit and I cry out in pleasure. It’s been so long since a man has touched me, I’ll probably come all over his fingers in seconds.

“Is that good, baby?”

Fuck.

That word makes me clench around his fingers. I’ll like anything if Wyatt calls mebaby.

“Yes. God, yes.” I cling to his shoulder, pressing my mouth to the soft skin under his beard as his fingers work my clit, pleasure gripping my insides. The sensation coils up tight, building to a climax. Shit, I knew it. “Wyatt, I’m going to—”

The limo rolls to a stop, and a light comes on, flooding the interior of the car. Wyatt lurches away from me, the pleasure inside ebbing away before it can break. I blink in the light, my breath coming short and sharp.

We’re back at the house.

Bailey’s voice calls from somewhere outside the car, and I look at Wyatt in alarm. My face is hot from kissing him, from my almost-orgasm. Wyatt reaches out to smooth my hair, his eyes wide. I hastily button the top of his shirt, and we stare at each other for a beat, silent. He doesn’t have to say it—Bailey can’t know.

“Oh my God, you guys.” The limo door is wrenched open and Bailey peers in, dressed in her pajamas. “I didn’t know you took a limo.”

I flick a glance to Wyatt, but he’s already stepping from the car.

“The landscape society sent it,” he mutters. The same excuse he used with me.

Taking a deep breath and smoothing my hair again, I step from the limo, plastering on a smile for my friend.

Act natural. Like you weren’t just making out with her father in the backseat of a limo. Like he didn’t just have his hand up your dress.

“How was it?” Bailey asks, looking between us.

Wyatt stares at the driveway, hands jammed in his pockets. His cheeks are red, his gaze downcast, his head hung in shame. I know he feels bad about what just happened between us, especially since he’s had to confront Bailey so soon. I was hoping she’d be in bed and we’d get to continue inside. But with the slump of Wyatt’s shoulders, I know that won’t be happening. He feels too guilty.

I mean, I do too. Especially with the way Bailey eyes us hopefully. With knowing she helped him pick out my dress.

But… I don’t know. Wyatt and I are adults. She wants us to be happy. And if we happen to find that happiness with each other, is that really the worst thing? Sure, it might be a little awkward at first, but ultimately, I think she’d be okay with it.

At least, I want to believe that, because Wyatt deserves to be happy. He deserves something good for himself, for once.

“I didn’t win,” Wyatt says at last, giving a light shrug.

“Oh.” Bailey’s brows draw together. “That sucks.”

“It does.” I nod in agreement, resisting the urge to touch Wyatt’s arm. “He was robbed. His design was easily the best.” I steal a glance at Wyatt, who’s gazing at me intensely. Bailey looks at us with interest, and I force a yawn. “Well, I’m tired. I guess…”

“Yeah.” Wyatt yawns too, throwing in a stretch for good measure. “It’s late.”

Bailey snorts a laugh. “It’s notthatlate. I guess you’re not used to the time difference, though.”

She heads into the house and we follow. I want to pull Wyatt aside, to tell him again that we haven’t done anything wrong, but there’s no way to do that without Bailey seeing. So we all head up the hall to the bedrooms, pausing at our doors.

“Well…” I glance from Bailey to her dad. His eyes lock with mine, shadowed with guilt, and I sigh. “Goodnight,” I murmur, and we slip into our separate rooms.

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