Caught Up in You (26 page)

She laid a hand on his forearm and pushed herself out of her chair. “It’s fine. I’ll
do it.”

Wyatt’s attention swiveled her way. “Baby, you—”

But she was already moving forward like a wooden doll, one foot in front of the other,
not thinking, just doing. Like she used to do when she’d walk up on that stage at
the club. It wasn’t really happening if you turned your mind off.

Once she made it to the stage, she went through the motions of the trick without seeing
the people in the audience. The lights were bright and she was on autopilot. Manny
the magician put her in a box and made her disappear. She’d wished it were more than
a trick and that it had worked, that she’d spring up back in her apartment far away
from all this scrutiny. But after a few moments of being “gone,” Manny brought her
back into the box and she reappeared in front of everyone. They clapped. But she knew
it wasn’t for her.

It was the finale of the show and he kept her on stage at his side as he wrapped things
up. The house lights came on so Manny could see the audience, and Kelsey tried to
keep her focus on the back wall, but soon found her attention drifting from table
to table. Every kind of expression stared back at her—curiosity, sneers, judgmental
glares. Andrew Carmichael’s gaze held lewd interest
. Jackass.

Each new face made her feel smaller and smaller, cast out. She had the urge to look
down at her feet. But when she forced her eyes to her own table, she found nothing
but kind smiles from her friends and a thumbs-up from Maile. And Wyatt . . . the way
he was looking at her nearly buckled her knees. There was a combination of pride and
something else in his expression, something she couldn’t even absorb. But it straightened
her spine nonetheless.

If he could look at her like that, with no reservations or fear, then she damn well
could stand up in front of everyone and keep her head up. He was right. Who the fuck
were these people anyway?

Manny put a hand on her shoulder. “And Kelsey, for being such a good sport, Mr. Carmichael
has offered a prize of five thousand dollars to your favorite charity.”

“Oh,” she said. “Thanks.”

The older man smiled. “Why don’t you tell us the name of your preferred charity and
why it’s so important to you so that maybe these lovely people will want to donate
as well?”

He handed her the microphone and Kelsey panicked for a moment. Charity? The only charitable
donations she’d ever made were clothes to Goodwill and the occasional dollar dropped
in the buckets of the homeless people who haunted the corners of her old neighborhood.
But as she held the microphone, staring out at the crowd, a sense of calm determination
welled up in her. She knew exactly the place she wanted for the donation.

She cleared her throat and brought the microphone closer to her mouth, only the slightest
tremor in her hand. “I’d like the money donated to the Women’s Crisis Center of Dallas.”
She smoothed her lipstick, building her courage for the why part. “Because they help
women when they have nowhere else to turn. And because they helped me.”

Manny’s dark brown eyes were soft as he took the microphone back. “Thank you, Kelsey.
That sounds like a very worthy recipient.”

She nodded, clasping her shaking hands in front of her. So there it was. Out there
on her own terms. If those souls in the crowd wanted to judge her or her past, so
be it. She was done hiding it.

Time to own it.

TWENTY-FIVE

Wyatt propped his head on his hand, staring down at a
vision he didn’t think he’d ever get the pleasure of seeing. He glanced at the clock.
Six
A.M.

She was still here. Kelsey had made it the whole night without sneaking off to the
couch. Warmth moved up through his chest, lifting a smile on his lips. He brushed
a lock of her hair off her cheek, fanning it across the pillow with the rest of her
blonde mane. She was beautiful always, but never had he been so taken with anyone
as when she had stood on that stage last night, her chin tipped upward as she’d chosen
her charity. She’d silenced a whole room of backbiters, making them look like assholes
in the classiest way possible.

Afterward, others had come up to them, apologized for assuming things, had asked Kelsey
questions. She’d answered some, politely deflected others. Some partygoers had still
ignored them, but that was fine by Wyatt. It showed him exactly the kind of people
they were. What mattered to him most was that Kelsey had held her head high and hadn’t
shown any fear or shame. His girl had balls. He’d never been more proud to be by someone’s
side in his life.

And in that moment, he’d finally accepted one simple fact he’d been fighting since
the first time he touched her. He’d fallen for her. Hard and fast and without doubt.

It scared the ever-loving shit out of him.

It was exactly what he told her wouldn’t happen.

She was still young.

Still sweet.

It was even messier than he imagined.

But that didn’t make it any less true.

Now he was stuck with having no idea what to do with all this . . . love.

Kelsey moaned in her sleep, a low, sexy sound that had his body rousing to attention.
He moved his hand away from her hair.

“Wyatt,” she murmured, a begging note in her tone, but her eyes still closed with
slumber. “Yes.
Please
. I need you . . .”

She shifted beneath the thin sheet, and Wyatt watched in rapt awe as her hand slid
down her belly, over her navel, down down down . . .

Oh, blessed blessed Lord. He must’ve done something really good in a former life.

* * *

Kelsey blinked in the gauzy pink light, her brain still
hovering in that space between sleep and consciousness. Warmth enveloped her body,
and she snuggled deeper into it, hoping to fall back into the erotic dream she’d been
having. She’d been on a ship, held captive by a dark-haired pirate with a surprising
Southern accent. He’d tied her to the plank instead of making her walk it and had
gone about torturing her with his talented tongue and long fingers, making her come
over and over again while the waves crashed against the side of the ship beneath her.

But before she could slip back into dreamland, a hand drifted along her stomach and
nudged between her legs. She gasped softly as the fingers moved along her arousal-slicked
skin. God, how was she so wet?

“Mmm, now that’s the best early morning wake-up call I could imagine,” Wyatt murmured,
his voice clogged with sleep and sexy as shit. “Erotic moans and you already warm
and wet. Must’ve been some dream.”

Her eyes fluttered open to find the wispy curtains of their cabana blowing gently
along the open windows. The barest amount of pre-dawn light filtered in, reminding
her where she was. Not her apartment. Not alone. But on an island with her real-life
pirate spooning and stroking her. And she hadn’t woken up all night. She hadn’t snuck
out of bed. Her heartbeat ticked up a notch. “A great dream.”

“Tell me about it.”

She smiled, even though he couldn’t see her. “It was just my normal hot dreams about
the starting lineup of the Cowboys.”

“Damn. Guess I’m going to have to work extra hard to get your mind off a whole team
then,” he said, sliding his fingers along her already throbbing clit, coaxing a moan
from her.

She arched into his touch, nestling her ass against him, his hard length already like
steel between them. “They’ve got nothing on you, sir.”

He groaned and grabbed the underside of her knee, drawing her top leg into her chest
and opening her to him. “You calling me that does it to me every fucking time, love.
And all those sounds you were just making in your sleep.
Fuck
. I’ve been hard as stone for twenty minutes, but I couldn’t stop listening to you,
watching you.” He cupped her breast, giving her nipple a soft tug. “Do you know you
touch yourself in your sleep?”

She let out a soft puff of breath as the tug became more of a delicious pinch. “No.”

“Or that you called my name? Begging me to make you come?” He ran his tongue over
the shell of her ear. “You sounded so desperate, love, like you hadn’t been touched
in eons.”

Her cheeks turned pink at that. Even after all the time together, she hadn’t gotten
enough of him. She’d searched him out in her sleep as well. “I’ve never been good
with moderation, sir. When I like something, I want it all the time.”

“Mmm,” he murmured, giving her shoulder a soft bite. “This is an addiction I’ll gladly
endorse. Especially when I share the same one.”

Without another word, he shifted his position, and braced a hand on the bottom of
her thigh, holding it toward her chest. Then he was pushing inside her, her body offering
no resistance. She moaned at the sudden feeling of fullness, at how hot he felt inside
her.

“You feel so fucking amazing,” he ground out, his hips rocking forward and burying
deep. “Like cashmere against me, love.”

His name fell past her lips, a sort of protest with no spine behind it. She’d had
something to say, but when he moved his hand around the backside of her thigh, finding
her swollen nub, she couldn’t grab onto the fleeting thought.

He teased her clit with skillful fingers and fucked her with long, lazy strokes. Every
fiber in her being seemed to wake up. Like water coming to a boil and bubbles popping
at the surface. Bubbles of want, ache, desperation. She squirmed against him, trying
to encourage him to take her hard, to charge toward the top of the hill.

“No, love,” he admonished. “Not this time. I want to fuck you slow, want to feel every
little clench of your pussy around me.”

Her sex did exactly that at his words, his voice alone able to trigger seemingly involuntary
responses.

“Watch the window. I promise you, you’ll get what you want by the time the sun comes
up.”

The sun? He was going to make her wait . . . He gave her clit a quick flick, and she
let out a little cry, a knot of bliss hovering just out of her reach, so ready to
unravel. But he seemed to know exactly how far he could take her without going over.
He went back to the soft strokes, his cock still sliding in and out with that deliciously
tortuous pace. She shuddered against him, her pleasure like the tide outside—ebbing
and flowing from sweetly sensual to maddeningly intense moment to moment.

And for some reason that combination had her chest tightening and inexplicable tears
threatening. This wasn’t like anything she’d ever experienced. It wasn’t fucking.
This was . . . romantic. It felt like what she’d imagined making love to be. And the
realization had her thoughts twisting and curving, colliding, and confusing her. “Wyatt.”

But he didn’t respond. His hair tickled her as he kissed along the back of her shoulder,
sucked at her neck, murmured things to her about how beautiful she was, how sexy,
how perfect. And she couldn’t muster up the will to make him stop. She wanted this.
Wanted to get lost in him. In the fantasy.

By the time the sun cut golden beams across the wood floors, Kelsey was pleading in
soft words. Wyatt had flipped her onto her back and was braced above her now, his
eyes burning into hers as he moved inside her. Every inch of her begged for release.
The hard points of her nipples he’d sucked and licked throbbed. Her thighs quivered.
And her pussy gripped him with every thrust as if trying to coax out his release before
he was ready.

“Tell me what you want, love,” he said, his tone tender but his gaze intense, seeking.

He’d asked her this before, and she’d given him the dirty answer. But this time she
could only manage the stark, terrifying truth. “I want
you
.”

He smiled then, a slow, curling thing that seemed to shine light on dark places inside
her and he dropped to his elbows, taking her mouth in a fevered kiss. She reached
up, gliding her fingers through his hair, and opening to him. His tongue stroked hers
in time to his rocking hips, devouring her and any thoughts she’d been hanging onto.
He was inside her—in her body, in her mouth, and in her head. She was consumed. Soaring.

Her nails dug into Wyatt’s shoulders and he groaned into their kiss, his muscles going
taut as her own orgasm slammed into her. She held on to him, her body almost convulsing
with the sheer force of it all. She broke off the kiss with a sharp cry, but right
as she sucked in a breath, his lips were back on her. His mouth making love to her
as much as any other part of him.

Her orgasm wouldn’t relent, as if it wanted to get its money’s worth after the long
buildup. She arched against him, riding the pulsing pleasure and dragging him to his
own edge. Finally, he quivered against her, biting her lip, and falling into his own
release. He pumped inside her with forceful, moaning thrusts, all that measured self-control
melting away.

He was so beautiful like that—a wild, masculine animal, the man behind the polish.
She loved his quiet side, the person he was in the world. But this was a sight that
yanked the breath from her chest. Suddenly, she felt a ridiculous surge of jealousy
toward anyone who had ever seen him this way.

Wyatt stilled inside her and opened his eyes, his brows lowering briefly at her expression.
“You okay?”

She smiled. “I’d say so.”

“Mmm.” After one last lingering kiss, Wyatt slipped out of her and rolled to the side,
his flat belly rising and falling with fading exertion. “Good morning.”

“Helluva wakeup call.”

“I’d say. You sure you’re okay? You looked a little mad just now.” He shifted onto
his side, propping on his elbow and peering over at her.

She would’ve blushed if her face wasn’t already hot from orgasm. “You’re too observant,
Mr. Austin. I was just having a girl moment.”

He smirked. “Oh, do tell.”

She sighed. How much should she reveal? She didn’t want him to think she was getting
all possessive on him, but he’d see through bullshit if she tried. “I had a passing
moment of jealousy toward all the other women who’ve seen you like this. A brief hormonal
brain fart.”

He laughed and reached out to brush her hair away from her forehead. “No need to be
jealous, love. Not many have seen me like this.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, okay. And I lost my virginity last week.”

“No,” he said, tapping a finger under her chin. “I mean, like
this
.”

She rolled to her side to face him, but before she could ask him what he meant, a
trickle of warm fluid slid over her thigh. A rush of anxiety went through her. “Oh,
shit.”

He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

She swallowed hard, stealing herself for his reaction. When they’d discussed limits,
she’d seen his expression at the thought of unprotected sex with her. And who could
blame him? An unplanned pregnancy with someone like him could get a girl a big pile
of cash. “We didn’t use a condom. Wyatt, I’m sorry, I didn’t think of it. And then
everything was feeling so good, I kind of forgot. But I promise I’m on the pill and
you’ve seen my medi—”

“Shh,” he said, brushing a thumb over her lip and catching a drop of blood there from
his earlier bite. “I wanted you without any barriers this morning. And you told me
you were protected from pregnancy. I trust you.”

His expression was so open, so relaxed and accepting that panic mainlined right through
her veins. “Wyatt, what are you doing?”

“What?”

But she’d already seen the shift in him yesterday, the way he’d talked to her, held
her. Tender. Caring. She’d thought it’d been part of the whole crazy day, an aftereffect
of all that stress. And she could handle a lot. There wasn’t much he could do to her
physically that she couldn’t deal with. But this—this could annihilate her.

She sat up, hugging a pillow to her chest. “Don’t do that. Don’t look at me like I
mean something to you.”

He pushed himself upward, turning toward her on the bed. “What the fuck are you talking
about? Of course you mean something to me. You think I’m putting on a goddamned song
and dance show for you? Why do you think I asked for more time with you yesterday?”

“A month, Wyatt. Don’t give me the forever eyes.”

“Kelsey—”

“Don’t,” she repeated. Her throat went tight, and she wished he wasn’t so close. She
couldn’t think with him staring at her with those naked blue eyes. “That’s not what
this is. It’s not what it’s supposed to be. No romance, Wyatt. No sweet pillow talk.”

“I love you.”

“What?”
The trap door fell right out from beneath her. She pulled her knees to her chest
and pressed her forehead to the top of them, barely resisting covering her ears.
No. No. No.
“Don’t do this, Wyatt.
Please
. I can’t—”

He sighed. “You can’t, what? Handle it? Love me back? Deal?”

“You don’t love me. Don’t say that.”

“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t feel, Kelsey,” he said, anger leaking into his
tone as he reached over and grabbed for the robe he’d hung on the bedpost. “Believe
me. This wasn’t my plan either. But I’m not going to sit hear and lie about how I
feel.”

“Love? That’s bullshit and you know it. You barely know me. Yes, this week has been
fun and I enjoy being with you. But we can’t do this for real.”

“Why the hell not?”

She looked at him, disbelief coursing through her. “You want to go through what we
did last night every time you take me somewhere? Get those looks? I will never fit
into this world. And even if you don’t see it yet, I’m just a shiny, new toy for you—something
different and exciting. As soon as the novelty wears off, I’ll be the next Gwen. Only
with a nice check in the bank so you don’t have to feel so guilty.”