Must Be Wright (The Wrights 3)

He broke the kiss and unfastened her jeans, then tugged them down her legs along with her silk panties. He sat back and dragged them off her feet, pausing to pull off her boots.

God, she was beautiful. He slid his hands over the flat expanse of her belly. “You were so sexy when you were pregnant with Cooper.”

She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, hardly.”

He leaned in and kissed her belly. “You were.” He slid his hands down her thighs. “Before I knew you were single, I used to think the guy in your life was a goddamned lucky bastard.”

Her hands slid through his hair as he cupped his hands behind her knees and eased them apart. He pressed a kiss to the softness between her legs, then slid both hands under her ass and lifted her hips to his mouth. He covered her and licked long and deep for his first real taste.

Her gasp fluttered past his ears and lit him on fire.

He hummed and pressed his mouth against her with more hunger, tasting with more need, and the woman who was always as strong as steel shivered.

Lust spiraled inside him, fogging his brain. Gypsy responded with sounds that heated his blood, the rock of her hips that confirmed he was doing everything just right. He teased her into wanting more by breaking the intensity with featherlight kisses and a whispering touch with his tongue. She was tangy and sweet, and the more he ate, the hungrier he became.

She lifted her hips, moving against his mouth. Wyatt gave her everything she needed. More pressure, more movement.

She came with a series of sharp shivers, her hand fisting his hair. When she finally melted into the sofa, breathing ragged, gaze dazed, she released his hair, then combed her hands through it, scoring her fingers along his scalp. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pull your hair.”

He grinned and kissed his way up her body again. “You can pull my hair any damn time you like, sugar.”

He covered her mouth with his and kissed her deep, letting her taste herself on his tongue. Her hands were already in his pants, stroking his erection. Then searching in his back pocket for his wallet.

She broke the kiss to search the billfold, and while she did, Wyatt kissed every inch of skin he could reach.

“What am I going to have to do to get you in a bed?” he asked. “Naked? For an entire night? Or more?”

She plucked the condom from his wallet with a sigh. “Just move a few mountains.”

He smiled. “Is that all?”

She sat up and pushed Wyatt to his back. Stripped him the same way he’d stripped her. Then tasted him the same way he’d tasted her.

And, damn, she was good with her mouth. A little too good.

He took the condom from her hand and ripped it open. Gypsy pulled her mouth off him with a pop and a groan of disappointment as he rolled it on.

She laid her body over his. “I like the taste of you.”

Wyatt framed her face and kissed her. The scent and taste of them mixed was intoxicating. While she was still kissing him, he rocked her hips into alignment with his, then broke the kiss to look into her eyes as he pulled her hips down, sinking deep into her body.

Her gaze went hazy, and pleasure washed her face. “God, that’s good.”

So damned good.

And then she made it even better by sitting up and rocking his world.

Wyatt soaked in every stunning second of Gypsy Wright riding him like she was on a mission to drill herself into his DNA.

Wyatt stroked her body, gripped her hips, and pulled her down harder, faster. Until her eyes drifted closed and her head dropped back. Until he felt the first squeeze of her climax.

Then he let go and flew with her.

16

Gypsy was running late. Way late.

After Wyatt had worn her out the night before, she’d come home, passed out, and hadn’t woken until Dylan had dropped off Cooper at her house.