Flirting with the Frenemy (Bro Code #1)(56)

“Hmm?”

“I’m going to make love to you, and the world’s not going to end.”

“That’s a terrible idea,” I choke out.

“Challenge accepted.”





Twenty-Three





Wyatt



The list of reasons I shouldn’t be playing with the hem of Ellie’s skirt is longer than my arm. Tucker could catch us here. Ellie’s parents. The baby goat that got through the gate could try to help. Someone else could walk into the gardens.

I could get in serious trouble and lose my job for indecent exposure.

But when Ellie’s only objection to me snaking my hands up under her skirt is that we’re tempting fate, I run my hands over her knees and up her thighs.

She shudders and widens her legs as her lids get heavy. “We’re not supposed to do this,” she whispers.

“I like you,” I whisper back, “and I want to make you feel good.”

“I take no responsibility for your son becoming an orphan,” she informs me.

I have zero fear that her belief that we’re physically dangerous is accurate. It’s superstitious nonsense, and it’s not like Ellie to believe in it. “What are you really afraid of?”

I don’t expect her to answer me, so I dip my thumbs low on her inner thighs. She’s not flinching away from letting me touch her scars, and I wish I could kiss her where she hurts and make it go away.

Her eyes squeeze closed as her legs fall open wider. “I’m afraid I’m not lovable.”

My heart cracks in two.

I didn’t know I had it in me for my heart to crack for another person, but it did. Split. Right in half like someone attacked it with a rusty butter knife.

“Why?”

“I’m stubborn.”

“Determined,” I correct.

“Annoying.”

“Says who?”

“You.”

“Only to get your goat.”

The baby goat bleats again, and her lips wobble upward. But her eyes—Christ.

Her eyes are breaking my heart. “I’m too career-minded.”

“You have a calling.”

“I didn’t pick it.”

“Didn’t have to.”

Her skin is so soft, and I can smell her arousal through the layers of her dress.

“I don’t know what’s important,” she insists. “I can’t prioritize people over things. I don’t know how to let go and trust someone else. I can’t—”

“You’re Ellie Fucking Ryder. Yes, you can.”

“Why do you believe in me?”

“Mostly to piss you off.” I wink at her and stroke the edge of her panties, and she huffs out a smile and a groan.

“Wyatt.”

“Come see me in Georgia.”

“What?”

“Come see me. Me and Tucker. Spend the weekend with us. In two weeks. Three weeks. Whenever you have a free weekend. Come see us.”

She blinks quickly, but not fast enough to erase the sheen in her eyes. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to fucking miss you.” Honesty makes my voice raw. I never thought I’d get married. Never trusted that I could fall in love and know how to do it right.

But Ellie?

She won’t let me do it wrong.

Because she’s Ellie. She’ll push me. She’ll teach me. And if she’ll love me, she’ll love me.

“Wyatt,” she whispers, and then her hands clasp around my ears and she’s kissing me.

Softly.

So softly.

Like she’s learning me. Memorizing me.

Savoring me.

I stroke the center of her panties, and her groan vibrates against my lips. I stroke her again, and she arches into my touch while she nips my lower lip. “More,” she says into our kiss.

So I give her more, stroking and teasing and touching her while we kiss, slow and easy, then slow and deep, then hard and desperate while she jerks against my fingers. I slip two under her panties, find her entrance, and thrust into her slick heat.

But it’s not enough.

I don’t want to just feel her.

I want to taste her.

“Wyatt,” she gasps when I duck under her skirts. “We’re—someone could—ohmygod do it again.”

I push her panties aside, put my mouth to her pussy, and I devour her sweet center. Her hips buck into my mouth, and fuck, I could stay here all day.

I don’t care that I can’t see a fucking thing. I don’t care that it’s hot as hell.

I don’t even care that we could get caught at any minute.

I just know I’m finally right where I’m supposed to be.

Loving Ellie.

Pleasuring her.

Her gasps are muffled, but she’s holding my head steady through her skirt, urging me higher, left, right there oh my god more right there suck me harder Wyatt yes harder YES.

I slide two fingers deep inside her hot, wet channel, and when my lips find her sweet little nub, I nip gently, then suck it, and she’s suddenly clamping around my fingers, her thighs squeezing my head while she comes for me.

“Yes,” she gasps. “Wy-aa-aah-”