“Come on,” Ryder says from behind me. “He’s the boring, responsible type. Nobody wants to hook up with that.”
I shake my head. “You think anybody who’s more levelheaded than you is a boring, responsible type.”
“Because it’s true.” He shoots me a spectacular smile. It’s wasted, since I’ve developed about a five percent immunity to it in the last five years.
“What’s true?” Wyatt asks, slipping an arm around my waist as he faces Ryder.
I lean into him. “Nothing important.”
Ryder smiles at Wyatt. “She always says that when she knows I’m right. By the way, I’m Ryder.”
I watch him extend his hand and can’t decide if he honestly thinks he needs to introduce himself—in case somebody hasn’t seen movies—or if it’s something bred into him by the European boarding schools he was forced to attend.
“Wyatt Westland. Nice to meet you.”
They shake han
ds. Then Ryder asks if Wyatt has seen a picture of his baby. Wyatt barely has time to shake his head before Ryder has whipped out his phone, and I groan. He’s just thrilled to find a new victim to inflict the photos of his daughter upon. The man is obsessed.
But Wyatt is nodding, his eyes warm as he looks at the photos. It’s adorable. Wyatt, that is, not Ryder. I etch the way he looks right now—the glow, the sweetness—into my memory.
A new song starts. It’s one they played at my high school junior prom, and I sigh with nostalgia. Even though I didn’t like my hometown, I do have some good memories…like junior prom, before everything imploded.
Wyatt looks as though he feels the same way about the song. He excuses himself from Ryder and comes over. “Wanna dance?”
I nod. He takes my hand, his palm hot and firm against my skin, and we go to a wide area near the huge windows. His arms go around me, and I face him, resting my hands on his solid shoulders.
Then something hits me. “Do you realize we’ve never danced together before?”
His smile grows a little wistful. “Yeah, I was just thinking that, too.”
“Can’t believe it took this long.”
“If you want, we can dance every day.”
His sweet offer makes a peculiar emotion swell inside me. I wish I could pinpoint exactly what it is, but it’s too unfamiliar. Sighing, I push the confusion away and let myself relax in his arms. We’re at a party, having fun, surrounded by great people. And we’re dancing. Why obsess about this strangely warm…lump growing in my heart?
Then I catch a glimpse of the tiny lights glowing over the surface of the water garden as we turn, and I decide this almost feels like…love. I look up at Wyatt’s handsome face and wonder if he feels what I’m feeling, or if I’m just getting swept up in the moment.
“You’re beautiful,” Wyatt murmurs.
My breath catches at the soft gleam reflected in his eyes. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but I feel…adored.
We turn again, and his head dips. His lips are so close, our breaths mixing and merging. My skin prickles. I can feel my pulse going unsteady and slightly fast, like it’s on an intoxicated run. But that isn’t such a crazy comparison. I’m drunk on Wyatt’s presence. It’s scary and exhilarating how quickly and easily he’s become important to me.
“Kim…” The soft whisper sounds like a prayer.
I tilt my chin. His mouth closes in and claims mine. His lips are hot and insistent, and my whole body tingles as excitement sparks through me like fireworks, bright and mesmerizing.
The music fades away and there’s only Wyatt moving against me. All my senses are focused on a lusty exploration of his mouth, plundering, tasting and stroking—and his hand at the small of my back pulling me closer until I feel the thick, hard length of his erection against my belly.
Oh my…
My knees grow unsteady. Wyatt shoves his fingers through my unbound hair, keeping my head imprisoned so he can kiss me harder. I nip his lower lip to let him know I love what he’s doing. It elicits a low, rough growl, the sound vibrating in his chest and throat. Heady lust builds at his reaction, and liquid heat pools between my legs. I wish we were home now so I could strip him naked and do wicked, wicked things.
Cool air brushes my bare arms and legs. I open my eyes and realize we’re in a room with a marble floor and very little furniture. It’s dark except for the dim, undulating light coming through the windows from the water garden.
“How…?”