Doing It Over (Most Likely To #1)(54)

“So wet,” he said before replacing his finger with his tongue.

“Oh, God.” She sighed, caught her breath, and ran a hand through his wet hair as he tasted his fill. And when she was close, so close she felt the rush of the wind on her thighs, he pulled away.

She whimpered.

When he returned, he was covering his erection and teasing her again.

A look in her eyes and a smile was apparently all the encouragement he needed. When he filled her, she wrapped her legs around his waist and met him with every push and pull. When he kissed her, she tasted herself and his smile. When she came for him, he eased his pace, rolled over, and kept going. She clenched every muscle she had and watched his face until she felt a second orgasm forcing her eyes closed.

Then there were stars and Wyatt was calling her name in his release.





They cooked eggs after only a handful of hours of sleep, and sipped coffee. All the while Wyatt kept a hand on her in some way. When they were eating, she rested her feet in his lap and he ate with one hand and rubbed her with the other.

It was incredibly sweet and comforting in a way that the actual act of making love wasn’t. He talked about his vision for his living room and what he wanted it to look like when he was finished.

He asked her about what she liked when it came to design. Melanie didn’t have too many strong opinions, based on the fact that she had never owned a place of her own to give it much thought. “I don’t even have my own bed, Wyatt.”

“It’s okay,” he told her. “You can share mine,” he said with a grin.

Sometime in the night Wyatt had put their clothes in the dryer, making the morning walk of shame a little less damp.

They piled into his truck, and once again he held her hand all the way back to the inn. It was after nine, but Melanie had already sent a text to Miss Gina making sure everything was okay with her absence that morning.

Miss Gina sent her a cartoonish picture of a pair of boots lying beside a bed with a caption saying everything was fine.

Wyatt walked her inside, pinched her butt as she walked up the stairs.

She batted his hand away. “You’re awful.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and snuggled as they walked inside. It was quiet with only a faint hint of music coming from the back of the house.

“We have muffins,” Melanie said.

“I’d kill for a muffin.”

That had her rolling her eyes and smiling when she greeted Miss Gina in the kitchen.

“Well, well, well . . .”

Melanie kissed Miss Gina’s cheek. “Good morning.”

The older woman simply smiled.

Then Wyatt kissed her cheek. “Good morning, Miss Gina.”

She started to laugh. “Well, you two should get laid more often.”

Melanie’s jaw dropped. “Miss Gina!”

“What?” There wasn’t an ounce of remorse on the woman’s face.

The warmth Wyatt had placed inside her the night before refused to go away, and Melanie wasn’t going to let it go anytime soon.

Melanie found the muffins and put one on a plate before setting it in front of him. She moved to the coffee pot and lifted it in offering. When he nodded, she found two cups and poured them both a portion. “I see Mr. Lewis’s car is still here.”

“Yeah, he said he’d be leaving by noon.”

Melanie found the creamer, poured a generous portion inside her cup before letting the hot caffeine do its job. “Where’s Hope?”

Miss Gina glanced out the kitchen window. “Outside.”

When Melanie looked, she didn’t see any sign of her. With coffee cup in hand, Melanie slid beside Wyatt, took a bite of his muffin, and went in search of her daughter.

The screen door slapped against the back door with a familiar twang. The slightly cool morning felt good on her skin . . . or maybe it was the sex from the night before.

Melanie smiled as she walked off the back porch and around the house. The tire swing Wyatt had managed to place in the maple tree sat abandoned. It swayed slightly, as if her daughter had recently sat on it playing. The dirt pile, otherwise known as a garden, sat empty . . . no sign of Hope. Melanie called out her name with no reply. When she entered the house again, she set her coffee cup aside and climbed the stairs to their room. Hope’s nightgown was tossed to the side, a clothing drawer opened halfway in what looked like a typical haste to get on with her summer day.

Still no Hope.

A tiny bit of concern started to weaken the euphoria Wyatt had given her.

Melanie found Wyatt and Miss Gina in deep conversation when she walked back into the kitchen. “She’s not out there.”

Miss Gina tilted her head. “Hope?”

“Yeah, she’s not in her room either.”

“That’s strange, she was just in here not twenty, thirty minutes before you walked in.”

The three of them stopped what they were doing and all headed out back. “You check the garage,” Melanie instructed Wyatt. “I’ll see if she’s by the climbing tree.”

Even though she’d been given strict instructions to never climb a tree without another person with her, anything could have happened.

Melanie called Hope’s name several times en route to the tree the three of them had climbed only a few days before.