Roadside Attractions

Twenty-Five

CULTUS LAKE, BC

I can’t tell if it’s rain or tears streaming down my face as I storm back to my hotel room, closing the door behind me, but I’m betting it’s a mixture of both. My heart still pounds wildly, my hands shaking. I lean against the door and try to process what just happened.

It’s damn near impossible to wrap my head around the fact that Wyatt just tried to kiss me. And the fact that I turned him down.

I squeeze my eyes shut, certain I’ve just ruined everything . How are we supposed to continue with the trip after that? Fuck finding Roman—I should get myself on the first flight home.

My face crumples as I slink down to the floor. It’s just like me to self-sabotage what could’ve been a good thing, and manage to hurt Wyatt in the process too. Holding back a sob of humiliation, I fumble for my phone, dialling Noor without a second thought. It only takes a couple rings for her to answer, but I pace the whole time, feeling frantic, still soaked through to the bone.

“Look who it is!” she greets cheerily. “I’ve been waiting to hear from you.”

“I fucked up,” I say immediately, voice clogged with emotion. “I fucked everything up.”

Her tone shifts to one of concern. “Shit, Stells. What do you mean? What’s going on?”

“I need to find a way home,” I continue, dragging a hand through my drenched hair. “I can’t see him again after—”

“Stella, slow down,” she cuts in. “Tell me what happened.”

“Wyatt,” I say, breathless. “He almost kissed me, but I stopped him, and now I’ve ruined everything.”

“ Stella !” she exclaims. “Hold on, okay. Let me process this. Did you want him to kiss you?”

I hesitate. “Yes.”

“Then why the fuck did you stop him?”

“Because I can’t do this again!” I protest. “I—I can’t let someone in like that again. It would’ve been more than a kiss to me, and I’m probably just a pit stop for him. I won’t put myself in a position to let someone else hurt me like that. Not after Roman.”

The other end of the phone is quiet for a beat. “You really like him, don’t you?” Her voice is low, the words less of a question and more of a statement.

My heart pangs with longing. “Yeah,” I breathe out, miserable. “I really do.”

“Stella, he’s not Roman,” she says firmly. “ Nobody is Roman. Don’t count Wyatt out because of the sins of the dude that came before him. Give him a chance to prove you wrong.”

“But—”

“There’s not a relationship in the world that comes with a guarantee you won’t hurt each other,” she says. “It’s just a fact of life. The beauty of falling in love is jumping into the unknown, regardless of the result. You just have to let go and let yourself fall. You’re going to miss out on a lot of great things if you keep pushing people away.”

I sniffle, calming down a little. “When did you get so wise?” I tease.

“You know you’re the light of my life,” she returns. “But I will never stop bugging you to go for Wyatt. He’s seen first-hand what Roman did to you. I’m willing to bet he’d never even dream of doing the same. Besides, I’ve always had a feeling that he’s into you. My radar is rarely wrong.”

“Maybe physically,” I say. “But he told me there’s some girl he’s been obsessed with for years. I don’t think I stand a chance. He was gushing about her last night, telling me all about how smart, funny, and beautiful she is.”

“Stella,” Noor says, her voice flat. “Oh my god. I’m going to fly out there and murder you. Bitch, you are smarter than this.”

“Okay, ouch.” I frown, defensive. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t even have to be there to know the girl he’s talking about is obviously you!” she remarks. “Like, come on.”

I go still. “You think?”

“I know .”

My mind races, thinking back to all of my conversations with Wyatt about it, running over every detail he told me, the knowing expression on his face like he was laughing at a private joke. His response when I’d asked him why he wasn’t just going for this girl already. Believe me, I’m trying.

All of his thoughtful gestures, the small excuses to touch me, the lingering looks, the compliments, the protectiveness. How upset he was when he learned about the information Roman had been feeding me about him all these years.

And then our conversation just before the rain started.

You torture me. You always have.

I’m an idiot. It was right in front of my face the whole time.

“Oh my god,” I say finally.

“Yeah,” Noor replies.

“ Oh my god ,” I repeat with a groan this time as I drag a hand over my face.

“So stop wasting your time talking to me, go find that boy, and kiss the living daylights out of him.”

My pulse kicks into gear again, and new resolve builds within me. “Yeah,” I exhale. “Yeah, I think I’ll do that.”

“You know, that does require hanging up the phone. ”

“Right,” I chirp, dizzy with adrenaline. “Hanging up now.”

“Go get him, bitch!” she cheers.

A grin stretches across my face as I hang up the phone, setting it down on my nightstand. The fear of getting hurt still lingers, threatening to hold me back, but this freefall feels a lot safer knowing that Wyatt will be there to fall into the unknown with me.

He’s been proving himself to me this entire trip, showing that there’s more to him than I thought, that he’s both a thrilling and safe space to land.

The only thing left to do is, as Noor so eloquently put it, kiss the living daylights out of him.

Before I know what I’m doing, my feet are carrying me to the door. I could take a shower, regroup, allow myself time to overthink even more, but for once in my life, I need to be impulsive. To tell my mind to take a backseat while I listen to my heart.

I heave the door open, ready to dart back outside, then come to an abrupt halt.

Wyatt stands in the doorway, fist poised to knock on the door, surprise flickering over his features at the sight of me. My pulse is loud in my ears, drowning out everything else. He’s still dripping from the rain, but determination takes hold of his features after the shock of seeing me wears off.

“Moore,” he breathes.

“Hi,” I say stupidly.

“I don’t like the way we left things,” he murmurs, scratching the back of his neck. “Can I come in?”

I swallow the burgeoning confession on the tip of my tongue, nodding and allowing him to enter. It takes everything in me not to immediately jump him, but the agitation and nervous energy rolling off him gives me pause.

The door falls shut behind him as he steps into the room, and that tiny click manages to reverberate through my entire body. We’ve been alone together so many times on this trip, but it’s never felt like this. Everything about this moment feels charged, and a buzz of electricity hums beneath my skin.

“I’m sorry for the way I handled that conversation,” he says. “ You have every right to feel the way you do.”

“Wyatt—”

“I’m not trying to pressure you, or rush you into anything. That’s the last thing I want. I’ll give you all the time in the world, but this constant beating around the bush is driving me crazy, and I just need you to know how I feel, even if it doesn’t change anything.”

I place my hand on his chest, trying to get him to focus. “Wyatt,” I try again, a smile in my voice, adrenaline still coursing through my veins. “Stop talking.”

“No. I need to say this before I lose my nerve. If I don’t tell you now, I’ll spend the rest of my life—” He stops short, blinking down at me. “What are you doing?”

I finish unclasping my necklace, removing it from my neck and dropping it into the trash. It’s the only thing I could think of to get him to shut up and listen to me.

Wyatt glances between me and the discarded necklace, shock written all over his features. “I. . . I planned a whole speech on the way here. Are you sure you don’t want to hear it?”

I nod, exhaling shakily. “Save it.”

Without giving him another chance to hesitate, I stand on my tiptoes, curl my hand around the back of his neck, and crash my lips into his, bridging that last sliver of space between us. His entire body relaxes, then tightens.

In an instant, his hands are on my waist, tugging me closer until I’m pressed against him, relishing in the heat and hard length of his body. My head spins with desire, all the pent-up tension I’ve been trying—and failing—to suppress. His tongue presses at my lips, and I let him in, desperate to chase this feeling. My waterlogged dress clings to my body, and Wyatt’s hands move lower, bunching the skirt with his fists.

The kiss feels like a thousand speeches crammed into one, unspoken feelings screaming to be acknowledged, years of an undeniable attraction we’ve both fought so hard to ignore. But after this trip, it’s become so much more. It’s lingering stares and pining. Holding hands in the dark, trying to make each other laugh. Skinny dipping in Lake Superior, huddling close together in a nightclub, sitting on cheap mattresses and baring our souls. Spending hours on end pretending we weren’t falling in love.

All pretense is stripped away as Wyatt kisses me feverishly, like he’s done holding back too, like he’d starve if he stopped.

Every inch of him seems to pulse with want, and I release a soft moan against my will, too caught up in the moment to feel embarrassed about it. His breath hitches as he pulls away, tearing his lips from mine. My eyes flutter open, irritated by the interruption. Wyatt’s cheeks are flushed, his mouth sliding into a grin.

“You’re right,” he says before hoisting me up, eliciting a gasp in response. I wrap my legs around his waist, enjoying my new vantage point. “I’ll just tell you later.”

“You’re already telling me,” I manage, threading my fingers through his damp waves, then fusing our lips together again.

His tongue swipes mine, and I feel him harden against me, sending shockwaves to my core. He carries me toward the dresser, setting me down on the wooden surface, and it’s cool on the backs of my thighs. I run my hands over his broad shoulders, down his chest, wanting to explore every inch of him.

“God, Moore,” he grinds out, voice gruff, “you don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.”

“Likewise,” I pant between kisses.

Wyatt’s fingers find and skim the hem of my dress, then skate up my thighs, and the ache inside me builds. I tilt my head back, and he seizes the opportunity to place a string of kisses on my exposed throat and peel my cardigan from my skin. When I’m left in the spaghetti straps of my sundress, he slips his fingers beneath those too, freeing them from my shoulders.

I release a sigh into his mouth as he repositions himself between my legs, feeling like a wild, uncontrollable thing. I’m drunk off his kisses, delirious, yet somehow, every part of me is wide awake, eagerly anticipating his touch. He brings a large hand up my thigh again and pulls back a second to look at me, inclining his head in my direction.

“Can I?” he murmurs, gaze smoldering.

I bite my lip, a wave of insecurity washing over me. Wyatt has been with a lot more people than I have. If we let this go on, there’s a chance he’ll end up disappointed, that I won’t measure up to his expectations. For a moment, a part of me feels like I should be jealous of the girls who came before me, that they had the chance to experience this first and probably weren’t battling self-doubt.

Most of all, I’m jealous that they learned Wyatt Song is like the sun long before I did.

He sees the hesitation on my face, softening. Reaching up to place a hand to my cheek, he looks at me carefully, thumb smoothing over my skin. “Hey,” he says gently. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” I say quickly. Stopping now would be torture.

Because Wyatt is here, wanting me. And if he’s the sun, then I’m every planet orbiting around him.

Covering his hand with my own, I guide him back to where I need him most, wanting him to have no doubts about what I’m feeling. The pressure between my legs is almost unbearable now. His expression shifts from worry to intoxication. “Please,” I say, my voice tight.

My chest rises and falls as he hitches my underwear to the side, sucking in a breath through his teeth when he feels the wetness there. “Fuck,” he rasps. That single word ignites me. It’s no wonder I’ve likened Wyatt to the scorching heart of our solar system. Being this close to him, touched by him, feels like hours spent in the blazing heat, fire engulfing every inch of my skin.

I emit a tiny gasp when he slides a finger inside of me, and I grip his shoulder tightly. He braces his free hand on my other thigh, gaze burning into me, then eases another one in, earning a moan.

“Just like that,” he purrs, lips curling upward.

I dig my nails into his shoulders as he moves in and out of me, tantalizing waves of pleasure rising within me, my satisfied moans growing louder and louder. I’m too distracted to even kiss him now, but we’re still inches away, his breath fanning across my lips as the pressure builds in my centre.

He increases the speed of his fingers, and I whimper, begging for more. Feeling the need for some sort of release, I roll my hips against him, sinking my teeth into his lower lip to give it a tug before letting go, then relishing in his growl of agitated arousal.

Wyatt gets me there in record time, a swell of pleasure burning inside me so brightly I could explode. I let out a cry as I release on his fingers, legs shaking, and he pulls out of me with a triumphant smile. My heavy-lidded gaze is riveted to his lips, entranced as he sucks his fingers clean.

“I’ve been dying to know how you taste,” he says.

I’m still panting, waiting for my mind to come back to reality, to process what’s happening between us, but my brain short circuits. He opens his mouth, gesturing for me to do the same, and I part my lips, allowing him to place a finger inside slowly, tasting what’s left of myself on his skin.

And then he’s kissing me again, hiking my dress further up my thighs, fingers skimming my exposed waist. I feel the need to return the favour, gripping the hem of his t-shirt and hoisting it over his head, eager to feel what I’ve been ogling for days now. I take a moment to appreciate the sight, my fingers running down the hard ridges of his abs.

He lifts a thick eyebrow, amused. “Enjoying the view?”

“Don’t tease me,” I snap raggedly. I thread my fingers through his hair again, pulling roughly until our lips crash together, and he groans.

“These,” he mutters against my mouth, giving the front of my dress an angry tug, “are sadistic, by the way. I swear you’ve been trying to kill me.”

“Take it off, then,” I challenge breathlessly.

The next thing I know, his hands are fumbling with my dress, and he yanks it over my head, tossing it to the side, leaving me in my underwear. I briefly send a prayer of gratitude up to the heavens that I wore a matching black set today. They’re nothing special, but the way Wyatt looks mesmerized at the sight of them makes me feel like a lingerie model.

Butterflies flutter in my stomach, migrating lower. I never thought Wyatt would be looking at me like this, touching me like this. I feel like I’m dreaming. Slowly, he charts a path with his fingers up my stomach, then slips them under my bra, palming my breasts and squeezing as he kisses me softly. He reaches back to unclasp it, and when I’ve been freed from the garment, he takes a step back, desire—and another emotion I can’t quite identify—flashing across his features.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

My cheeks warm. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He glides toward me again, hands on my waist as he kisses the swell of my breast, then dips his head lower, taking my nipple into his mouth. I inhale sharply in surprise, the sensation shooting through me. He licks and sucks, taking his sweet time before biting down gently, and my fingers clutch his hair as I jerk forward. I swallow hard as he looks up at me with half-lidded eyes, stirring something deep inside me.

When he straightens out to kiss me again, my fingers fly to the button on his jeans, pulling it open, trying to free him from his clothes, wanting there to be nothing left between us.

I feel him smile beneath my lips, and he pulls away long enough to step out of his jeans. My throat goes dry at the sight of him in his boxers, at the bulge that strains against the fabric. I reach forward to slide my hands under the elastic band, but he catches my wrists, stopping me.

“Not so fast,” he chides.

I huff in annoyance, but it melts away as he bends down, lifts me bridal-style, and carries me over to the bed. He tosses me onto it playfully, and the action turns me on more than it should, my skin flushed, eyes bright. My palms splay out on the comforter beneath me as I perch on the edge of the bed, anticipating what he’ll do next.

He lowers himself to the floor, latching onto the waistband of my panties, sliding them off at an agonizingly slow speed, and I watch the heat take over his features at the sight of my want for him. I shiver from the chill in the room and the lingering rain from outside. But I have no doubt I’ll be burning up very soon.

Wyatt grabs my hips, tugging me closer to him before grazing his lips along my inner thigh. His wet hair tickles my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. My heart thrums, and I’m practically on the verge of begging him to put his mouth where I need it most. He continues to torture me, trailing slow, languid kisses up my inner thighs. I sink my fingers into his hair, wanting to guide him in the right direction.

He lets me, placing a kiss to my sweet spot. His tongue follows his lips, and a shudder rocks through me, my grip tightening on his hair.

I moan, throwing my head back. He quickens his pace, flicking and swirling his tongue, making me dizzy. Barely registering the sounds coming out of my mouth, I let my head loll against the mattress, squeezing my eyes shut.

Like the devil he is, Wyatt brings me to the edge again, until I’m writhing with pleasure, then backs off, leaving me hanging. When I open my eyes, making a noise of frustration, I see his trademark shit-eating grin, far too pleased with himself.

“Bastard,” I spit.

“Stella Jane,” he scolds, voice low and taunting. “Such a dirty mouth.”

He climbs onto the bed, and I scoot back to make room for him, glaring at him the whole time. I lay back against the pillows as he climbs on top of me. I reach for him, desperate to kiss him again, to slide his boxers off, to do something , but he catches my wrists, pinning them together above my head.

I wriggle beneath him, trying to break free from his grasp. “You’re impossible.”

Wyatt grins before pressing a slow, sensual kiss to my lips, keeping my arms pinned down. “ This is what I’ve wanted to see,” he murmurs wickedly. My mouth dries. “You coming undone. Just for me. I’m going to take my time.”

He kisses my neck, along my jawline, and I swallow, trapped by his arms.

“You’d think I’d be used to seeing you with someone else by now,” he remarks bitterly, lips grazing the shell of my ear, “but watching you dance with Owen—finding out you kissed him—was fucking agony.”

I exhale unevenly, a thrill skating down my spine. “Then why’d you let me?”

He lets out a grunt. “Rookie mistake. I shouldn’t have.” Wyatt kisses me again, grinding against me, and the hardness I can feel through his boxers sends ripples of lust throughout my body. He pulls back to look me dead in the eyes. “I should’ve stolen you away and kept you for myself.”

The moment he releases my arms, I reach down, sliding a hand into his boxers before he can stop me. His hand catches my wrist, but it’s too late—I’ve already latched onto him. He grits his teeth, jaw ticking, and the thought that I have as much of an effect on him as he has on me is exhilarating. I use it to my advantage, stroking him, watching the way his expression changes, his gaze becoming hazy.

“Wait,” he cuts out, pulling my hand away.

Before I can protest, he backs off the bed, leaving me alone and exposed. I push myself onto my elbows, watching him with a frown. He retrieves a square packet from the pocket of his jeans, and I give him a deadpan look.

“Oh, so you expected this,” I say flatly.

“Not expected,” he counters, tearing it open and sliding the condom out. “Hoped. Wished. Prayed.”

My lips widen into a smile as he climbs onto the bed again, crawling toward me. “Edith is never going to let us share a room now,” I tease.

“I just told you I prayed to have you,” he says, giving me a playful look. “She’ll like that.”

I laugh at his words, the humour alleviating the tension for a brief moment. He grins, cupping my cheek. “God, I swear that’s the best sound in the world. I wish I could bottle it up.”

His lips meet mine for what feels like the umpteenth time in a ragged, desperate kiss, as if he’s trying to capture it. He pulls back enough to peel off his boxers, and I see the full length of him. My pulse quickens as he rolls the condom over his flesh, and my core throbs. I want more of him, all of him .

When Wyatt nudges my entrance with his tip, I nearly come undone again. But he stops there, causing me to whine in protest.

“Are you sure about this?” he murmurs, eyes darting all over my face. “We can slow down. Take a breather.”

I shake my head immediately. “Don’t stop.”

He wears a lopsided grin. “That’s my girl.”

My girl .

After being granted permission, he slides into me slowly, and I’m so slick with my own arousal that there’s practically no resistance at all. I moan as I take all of him, my fingers bunching up the blankets beneath me. He braces his hands on either side of my head, staying still.

“You okay?” he asks roughly.

I nod quickly, gulping. “It feels good.”

He begins to thrust in and out of me, and I see stars. The sensation is dizzying, and I can’t keep my satisfied moans to myself, growing louder and louder. I find myself hoping that all of the rooms nearby are currently vacant.

Above me, Wyatt grins, pleased with himself. “I like when you’re vocal,” he breathes.

The words snag a memory loose of him in Ramble Ridge, holding my hand. I like when you’re you . The moment had gotten lost in my drunken haze, forgotten by the next morning, but it comes back in full force now, and the thought makes me feel even more foolish. Wyatt hadn’t done much to hide his feelings, and it still took me this long to figure it out.

“Please,” I gasp, nails digging into his shoulders, though I’m not entirely sure what I’m asking for. “ Please .”

He obeys my orders, and the friction continues to build between us. I grind against him, enjoying the intensity of his thrusts. I can feel that familiar wave of pleasure rising until it crashes through me, all-consuming. He holds me close, and I hear his grunt in my ear. It’s enough to make me come undone too, and he pulls out of me. The room is quiet now, save for our panting, and he rests his head against my shoulder as we both come back down to reality .

I swallow hard, trying to regulate my breathing as I stare at the ceiling. Now that we’ve stopped, my brain has a moment to catch up to what just happened.

Holy shit .

Wyatt lifts his head from my shoulder to pepper lazy kisses across my collarbone and chest as I gulp for air. Another laugh rises in my throat, but it melds into a quiet sob on the way out, my shoulders shaking. I’m caught off guard by the sudden emotions that rush through me—sadness, love, desire, fear. But happiness too.

Immediately, Wyatt brushes my soaked curls out of my face, eyebrows pinched tight with concern. “Stella,” he whispers. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I say, and it turns into a laugh again. “It’s just. . . it’s never felt like this. I didn’t know this was how it could feel.”

I’d always thought Roman and I had decent sexual chemistry, but after what I just experienced, I know what we had was laughable. For a second, I’m tempted to fiddle with my necklace out of habit, before I remember I’ve tossed it in the trash. Thank God.

Wyatt smiles in a way that feels like being sun-kissed before he dips his head down to chase away my tears with his lips. “This is how it’s supposed to feel.” Then he pulls back, mischief dancing across his features. “I’d be more than happy to show you again, if you’d like.”

I nod, feigning ignorance and playing along. “That’s probably a good idea. I could use a reminder.”

The words have barely been spoken into existence before his lips are back on mine, where they should be, and we fall into each other just like the rain that bursts from the sky outside the hotel window.