The Wrong Mr. Right (The Queen's Cove Series #2)(77)

“Pride and Prejudice?” I shot him a questioning look as I picked it up and studied the cover. My mouth opened to form another question but nothing came out.

He lifted one shoulder with a little smile. “You were right. It was good.”

My brows snapped together. Something sweet wrapped around my heart. “Why did you read it?”

His expression softened. “It’s your favorite. I wanted a peek inside that brain of yours.” He pulled back the covers and gestured for me to get in. “Come on.”

Wyatt read my favorite book. For me. If I thought too hard about that, I would… I didn’t know. It was just a book. Beck read the book, too.

But this was different. Wyatt was different.

“Did you like it?” I asked softly, sliding under the covers beside him. His arm tucked around me and pulled me to his warm chest and my breath caught.

It was me standing in Elizabeth’s kitchen all over again, seen and wanted and loved. My throat tightened and my hands came to Wyatt’s hard chest. I peered up into his eyes, so gray and kind and full of affection.

He nodded with a small smile. “Mhm. You were right about the scene with Mr. Collins.”

I pressed a soft kiss to Wyatt’s neck. He inhaled and his chest rose under my hands.

“We should sleep. Your head—”

“I think you should give me another lesson.” I brushed my lips over his stubble and he shuddered. “Professor.”

In a split second, I was on my back, Wyatt’s mouth pressing hot, fast kisses down my neck.

“You know exactly what to say to make me lose it,” he murmured against me, and I shivered again. His fingers found a tight nipple through the thin fabric of my top and I arched.

A soft whimper escaped me, and I reached for him but he batted my hands away.

“Not yet. Let me do my work.”

I smiled and his mouth covered mine, lingering a moment before his tongue coaxed me open. The slow glide of our tongues melted my brain like an ice cream cone in summer and I let my consciousness sink, sighing against him. Wetness pooled between my legs, warm and slippery, and after a few moments of us tasting each other, exploring each other’s mouths, me reaching for his length and him holding my wrists, finally, finally, he touched me.

“Oh, Jesus, bookworm, you are so fucking wet for me,” he rasped. I nipped his bottom lip. “I love how you get so worked up.”

His fingers slid over my center and my head fell back. More. I needed more. I pulled my shirt over my head and his mouth fell to my breast, tasting and rolling and tugging. A strangled noise came out of my throat. My core clenched around nothing and my hips thrust harder towards his hand, needing more.

“I love how soft you are.” His fingers found my clit and I moaned. “Mhm. Like that?”

I jerked my head in a nod. “Like that. Like that.” I was babbling but the heat coiled low in my stomach and I didn’t care. Wyatt’s hands on me made me mindless, and I didn’t want it to stop.

“Why don’t you show me your homework?” His voice was so low and soft. “Show me how you touched yourself after your date.”

A streak of self-consciousness shot through me, and I bit my lip and opened my eyes. Wyatt watched me with something dark and hungry in his eyes, and a cruel little smile on his mouth.

“I’ve thought about you touching yourself so many times.” His throat worked and he began to slide my shorts off. “Show me the real thing.” He lifted his gaze to mine. “Please, baby.”

My hand slipped to my center and I began to rub slow, soft circles on my clit while Wyatt watched with hungry fascination. The warm heat coiling around my spine and the intense way he watched drowned out my self-consciousness. I moved a little faster and pressed my lips together with a wince of pleasure as the pressure grew.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathed and pressed a kiss to my inner thigh. “You are so fucking gorgeous, Hannah. I’ve been thinking about this nonstop. I wanted you all day.”

“Me too,” I gasped. “You make me come so hard.”

Those were the magic words. He grabbed my wrist and pinned it to the bed. “Lesson’s over.” He slipped a finger inside me and began to work my center. He located that spot within me and white hot electricity shot through my limbs.

“Wyatt,” I gasped. My legs shook and everything seized with pleasure. I grasped the duvet. Wyatt’s gaze swung from where his fingers entered me to my face in fascination.

“I should draw this out and torture you for scaring me this morning.” His eyes seared me, half-teasing, half-furious. “I was so worried, bookworm. I never want to see you hurt. You’re too important to me.”

“Not hurt,” I gasped again, arching. I frowned and winced, it felt so good. All the waves of pleasure radiated from where his finger pulsed. My body squeezed him. “Doing just fine.”

He laughed low and pressed another kiss to my inner thigh. “I can see that. Now, what do you need to come?”

“More.”

“More what?”

My chest heaved as I pulled in deep breaths that weren’t enough. His finger slowed inside me with less pressure and I groaned with frustration. “Wyatt.”

“Bookworm, what do you need to come?” His tone was teasing and knowing.