My Cone and Only (King Family #1) - Susannah Nix Page 0,52

ear, nuzzling it gently before exploring the hollow beneath my jaw. Dragging his lips over the sensitive skin, his stubble leaving a trail of delicious prickles.

“I have a question,” I said and felt his teeth graze my throat.

“Of course you do.”

“Define always.”

He pulled his head back, blinking in half-lidded bemusement. “What?”

“You said you’ve always wanted me. For how long exactly?”

His fingers tightened on the back of my neck, and he pulled me toward him, pressing a kiss to my cheekbone before resting his forehead against my temple. “I’m embarrassed to tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

When he didn’t follow that up with an actual explanation, I pulled back to look at him. “Wyatt?”

His arms tightened around me, and he buried his face in my neck. “Since I was seventeen.”

The words came out muffled, and I blinked, trying to figure out if I’d heard him right.

He lifted his head when I didn’t respond, his brow creasing with uncertainty. “Say something.”

“Are you serious? Since high school?”

“Remember that night we watched the meteor shower?”

I nodded, caught by a sense of déjà vu.

“You dozed off and snuggled up to me in your sleep.”

“I remember.” Boy, did I ever.

“That was when I first realized…when we were lying there under the stars and you had your head on my chest, I felt—I don’t know—content, I guess? Peaceful.” His head dipped in embarrassment. “It probably sounds dumb, but it was the happiest night of my life up to that point.”

My heart squeezed, and I threaded an affectionate hand through his hair. It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me. But it was also a little hard to believe.

“Wyatt, that was forever ago.” I realized now why he’d brought up that night when he was drunk. It wasn’t just a random memory. It meant something to him.

“I know,” he said in a voice strained by the weight of every one of those years.

“You’re saying all this time…” I couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“Yes.”

I pressed my hand to his face, and his eyes fell closed as he leaned into my touch. So trusting, so sweet, and so dear to me. He looked different like this. More exposed and closer to the surface. A new sense of possessiveness overtook me as I ran my fingers over his chin and traced the hollows below his lips where the stubble was sparser. I bent my head and whispered his name against his lips. They parted for me, his mouth hot as it strained toward mine, his tongue sweeping into my mouth.

I lost myself in kissing him. In being kissed by him. We kissed for a long time, relishing it like teenagers who’d just discovered how much fun kissing could be. Messy. Enthusiastic. Unrestrained. Experimenting with different pressures, different angles. It was so good, kissing him, I didn’t ever want it to stop.

But the longer we kissed, the more the ache inside me grew. My fingers had tangled in his gorgeous, thick hair, and I tugged on it, wanting to feel more of him. In response, he dropped his hands to my ass and jerked me hard against him, the hard ridge of his erection pressing into me as his tongue plunged even deeper into my mouth.

Dropping my hands to his chest, I clawed at his shirt, frantic to touch his bare skin and feel it against mine. “Take this off.”

He yanked his shirt over his head, exposing his beautiful golden torso. I stared, ogling him in a way I’d always been afraid to let myself do before, enjoying the way his breathing changed under the weight of my undisguised admiration.

“Touch me.” His voice simmered with heat, stoking the growing fever inside me. “I want to feel your hands on me.”

I didn’t need to be asked twice. Wyatt’s eyelids fluttered as I laid my palms on his chest again. Smoothing my hands over his skin, I explored the ridges and grooves of his pecs, ran my fingers through his chest hair, and traced the outline of his tattoos. Touching him exactly the way I’d dreamed of touching him.

When my thumbnail grazed his nipple, a tremor shuddered through him like an electric shock, and his hips bucked against me. He surged forward to kiss me again, but I pushed him back against the bed and pulled my own T-shirt off.

His eyes went wide as he drank in the sight of me, even though it was nothing he hadn’t seen last night when I’d stripped on the back porch. I was wearing the same style of