Fade Into You (Shaken Dirty #3)(32)
Instead, he pulled up his jeans, then steadied her as she yanked on her own jeans, sans the underwear that lay in tatters at their feet. She tried to straighten herself up, but there wasn’t much she could do, considering she was certain her hair looked like a rat had nested in it after a bomb had gone off. Still, once her jeans were more or less back where they belonged and her blouse was buttoned again, Wyatt settled back against the trunk of one of the nearby trees and lifted her into his lap.
She went because she didn’t know what else to do—he’d caught her off guard and she wasn’t prepared to resist—and because there was a part of her that really, truly wanted to be cuddled after the most spectacular orgasm of her life. A part of her that wanted to be held and stroked and comforted. The fact that Wyatt Jennings—one of the baddest of rock’s bad boys—seemed to understand that even more than she did, destroyed the last of her preconceptions about him.
“Are you all right?” he asked, nuzzling against her cheek. “I was really rough.”
“You were perfect,” she answered. Because he had been rough—she had the swollen lips and aching jaw to prove it—but he’d also been exactly what she’d wanted. She only hoped he felt the same way about her.
He laughed then, and it was a harsh, rusty sound. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard that word in reference to me before.”
“That’s because you haven’t been listening hard enough. It’s out there.”
“Do you always see the world through rose colored glasses?”
“Do you always see the world through gray ones?” she countered.
He cocked a brow at her. “You realize, right, that half the sunglasses on sale have gray shaded lenses?”
“Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the best analogy,” she admitted with a grin. “But my point still stands.”
“Does it? Does it really?”
She rolled her eyes in response then stuck her tongue out at him.
His eyes darkened and for a few moments she was sure he was going to kiss her again, but in the end he settled for tucking a few of the more riotous strands of her hair behind her ear. Then he dug around in the pocket of his jeans for his clove cigarettes and lighter. He offered her one, smiling a little ruefully when she wrinkled her nose and pulled another lollipop out of her pocket.
He stared at it for long seconds before taking it from her and pulling the paper off. “No vices at all?” he asked before shoving his cigarettes back in his pocket and popping the sucker into his mouth instead.
“Tons of vices,” she countered. “Those just don’t happen to be one of them.”
“Oh, yeah?” He looked interested as he settled back against the tree. “Tell me one.”
“And why, exactly, should I give you information you can use against me?”
“It only seems fair. You know all of my vices. I should at least get to know one of yours.”
“Yes, but also to be fair, much of the world knows about your vices. Mine are a bit more private, thank you.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth she wanted to take them back. Nothing like throwing his past failures in his face just as he was trying to get over them. He didn’t take offense, though. And a quick glance at his eyes told her he hadn’t gone to the dark place she’d already seen him in at least twice. Instead, he just laughed, and this time it sounded a little more natural, a little less rusty.
“With a name like Poppy, a guy could be excused for thinking your vices aren’t any better hidden than mine.”
“My mother had issues, okay? My half-sister’s name is Belladonna.”
He cracked up at that. “You so got the better end of that deal.”
“You’re only saying that because…” She trailed off, not sure she should say what she was thinking. Not when it came to this.
“I’m only saying that because Poppy suits you. Despite the fact that you don’t have red hair. And, for the record, I have no desire to snort you up my nose.”
It was her turn to laugh. “I’ll try not to be offended that you don’t.”
“Why would I, when there are so many better things to do with you?” He slid a hand down inside her jeans, traced a finger along her still wet sex.
“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure you already did a bunch of those things.” And still she spread her thighs. Still she arched into his touch.
“Did I?” He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth before licking his way along her bottom lip. “I don’t remember. We should try a couple of them again, just to jog my memory.”
“Oh, yeah?” she murmured against his lips. “And what is it you think we should try again?”
“I’m sure I’ll think of something.” He flicked his thumb across her clit and she gasped, her legs falling open as wide as her skinny jeans would let them.
He took instant advantage, his tongue sliding inside her mouth at the same time his fingers stroked inside her sex.
It felt good, really good, and for long moments she couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but lie there and take it. Eventually, though, reality intruded and she pulled her mouth from his. “Shouldn’t we get back? The others are probably freaking out—”