Snowflakes in Seattle

Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

OLIVE

S o many emotions.

I’d missed out on my well-deserved and sorely needed vacation with my bestie. There’d be no tropical drinks on the beach. No seaside stargazing or mermaid experiences.

But I had more time with Wyatt and my first snow day in two decades.

I couldn’t be sad about what I’d missed. Not when my wish had come true.

I’d checked in with Pear, and she hadn’t seemed too broken up about the change in plans, either. She sounded happier than she had at the airport during that first layover. It seemed Mr. Calm, Collected, and Comely was not the devil we’d painted him to be.

I wasn’t even going to change my ticket yet. Snow awaited, piles of it, and Wyatt had magicked up a snowsuit, gloves, and boots—all purple—that fit me. The surprises kept coming.

We didn’t eat. We barely drank coffee. Wyatt did have enough foresight—or experience—to start a fire in the wood-burning fireplace inside so we could thaw after our adventures. Then we tramped outside in full snow gear.

The narrow street that wound behind the houseboats was covered in at least five inches of snow. There were no hills or yards, just houseboats and docks and this glorified alley, but it was more than enough.

The world was utterly silent, the snow swallowing all sound. I sprinted to the biggest drift I could find and flung myself backward into the cold snow. Giggling, I spread my arms and legs to make a snow angel.

Wyatt appeared above me, sporting a grin bright enough to be seen from space. “You’re cute.”

And he was so freaking handsome. I hadn’t been able to resist his warm form on the couch the night before. He was the only comfort I wanted after a long day. And now? So happy? So Pacific Northwesty? He killed me with that scruff and those beanies that showed his curls. Straight up deceas?—

A loosely packed snowball exploded on my face.

“What the hell,” I sputtered, sitting up to wipe my eyes.

The man was somehow grinning even wider. “It’s Snow War One, baby, and you’re going down .”

Like an engine catching, adrenaline kicked to life in my veins. I should have known a gamer like Wyatt would be competitive. What he didn’t know was that I liked to win, too.

“Better hobble off and hide, old man,” I taunted, springing to my feet.

He scoffed as if he wasn’t afraid, but he sure as hell ducked behind the nearest garage.

I picked a spot with a view of his and set to work making a snowball pile. But the snow was fluffy and hard to pack. My ammo was more dumpling-shaped than round, and I knew they’d fall apart instead of fly. Too bad. I’d played fast-pitch all through high school and had a great arm.

I’d just have to get close to the hazel-eyed man who kept taking my breath away with his rugged beauty and kindness.

“You scared, little Olive?”

He’d disappeared behind the garage again after blatantly peeking at my position.

“You wish, old man,” I whispered.

I gathered my pathetic snowballs up in my arms and crept toward his hideout. I knew I’d only get one chance, so I was going full ambush. Intentionally alerting him to my presence, I noisily made my way around the front of the garage, snickering under my breath at his cocky laugh. He thought he had me.

Instead, I tiptoed around back, silent in the snow and blackberry brambles. I had to squeeze my lips together to stop from laughing as I spied him creeping in the opposite direction with a victorious grin on his face. He only had two snowballs. I had an arsenal, and the element of surprise.

He straightened as he peeked around the corner and realized I wasn’t there. In the two seconds it took him to turn toward me, I was on him, launching myself and all my snowballs.

We ended up on the ground in a heap, me on top, the victor, and Wyatt on his back as my spoils of war. His face, neck, and chest were covered in snow, but he was laughing. His hands landed on my hips as I pawed snow off his face.

“Defeated,” I teased. “And by a rookie, no less. You’ll have to try harder in Snow War Two. Get some allies or something.”

I wiped a chunk of snow off his lips. He followed it up with a swipe of his tongue that I felt in every inch of my body.

Holy hell, I was straddling Wyatt.

Feelings rushed in, all the emotions I’d poured into my diary once upon a time. The giddiness so strong you felt you could die from happiness, the butterflies that made you want to giggle and puke at the same time, the desire to slow time, all the wondering and wanting.

God, the wanting.

Outside of career success and increasingly daring adventures, Wyatt was all I’d wanted for most of my life. Definitely all I’d needed since he’d opened the door five days ago.

I wasn’t leaving him tonight. We had no set end date. Maybe all of this—the fog, the wave—had led me to this moment. Given me this moment.

“Olive.”

His grip on my hips tightened and he shifted, bending a knee up to bring me closer. My hands landed on his chest as I puffed out a frozen breath, fully aware of his body and the expression on his face that said he’d devour me if I let him.

“Yeah?”

“I need you to look at me when I say this.”

My gaze dropped to his lips. I needed those lips more than I’d ever needed anything. “What?” I whispered.

His gloved hands, wet and freezing, came up to cup my face, more desperate than gentle. “Tell me I can kiss you, dream girl. Please. Put me out of my misery.”

My heart exploded and my decision was made. “Kiss me, old man.”

We met in the middle. Wyatt pulled me down with arms around my back and a rumbling groan that set me on fire. His mouth was molten, lips soft and demanding. I sought his tongue with mine, every part of me lighting up as we connected.

The world fell away as my brain and body sank into his.

“Finally,” he groaned.

He tugged on my bottom lip, following it up with a lick that I felt in low places.

“Dramatic,” I answered, nibbling him back. I was already obsessed with his wide, puffy lips. I ditched the gloves and let my hands wander, knowing I’d find much more with which to become obsessed.

His hiss against my mouth as my hand crested the bulge in his snow pants was music to my ears. My new favorite song.

“Oh, you’re gonna get punished for that.”

Wyatt sat up and wrapped my legs around his waist. He’d ditched the gloves, too. He didn’t wait for a response as he dominated my mouth, my body, lulling me into submission with his unexpected roughness and inherent gentleness. It was intoxicating the way his lips magnetized to mine.

My eyes fluttered open as he traced the seam of my lips with his tongue. Normally, I liked to lead. Rarely did I relinquish power in the bedroom. With him, though? This older man I’d been fantasizing about for decades?

When he moved to kiss my jaw, I made my confession. “I might want to be punished.”

Nothing changed on the outside, but I felt Wyatt transform. His eyes told me stories. The energy pouring from him had turned animalistic.

I’d agreed to be prey.

“I’ve already been to dark places with you, Olive. I have whole worlds in my head just for you. Places where I take your power away. Places where I make you mine.”

A thrill skittered up my spine at his words. A new kind of adventure.

With my hands on his face, I searched the eyes of my childhood crush, a man who had held absolute power over the secret places in my heart. His brows flicked together, like he was worried he’d said too much.

I dropped a soft kiss on his mouth to soothe him. “Take me there.”

The corner of his lips ticked up, and a flicker of pure devilry appeared. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t know what I’m capable of imagining.”

God, unfiltered Wyatt was sexy on steroids.

I leaned in closer. “You don’t know what I like. What I’ve done. How I liked to be played with and fucked.”

“You’re going to show me,” he growled, tipping me backward and sucking at my neck hard enough to leave a mark. “You’re going to teach me. I’m going to obliterate every memory made before me. Every wish, every fantasy, will be mine, Olive.”

Somehow, a chuckle left my hoarse throat. “I’ve had a crush on you since I was seven years old. Every fantasy I have is you.”

His lips paused their territorial dance across my neck. He drew me up, mouth inches from mine. “Are you serious, Olive? You had a crush on me?”

“Have,” I corrected softly, because honesty is what we did. “Always have.”

His eyes closed before his forehead touched mine. “Damn, you just stole my heart, dream girl.”

Preteen Olive would have swooned. Grown-up Olive had no time for that. “Take me inside, Wyatt.”

He practically dragged me to his front door.

“I promised Anita I wouldn’t touch you,” he panted as he pushed me up against the rough wood and captured my lips.

“You asked nicely,” I replied.

The adoration in his eyes made me glow from the inside out. “I did, didn’t I?” he murmured. “When all I want to do is strip you bare and fuck you until you can’t move.”

A grin curled my lips. I reached behind me to open the door, pulling him into the house with me. Everything Wyatt had said to me today—all week—had been chiseled into my soul like words on stone.

I set to work unzipping his coat, pulling off his snow pants, removing the beanie and all his underclothes. I stripped my crush bare, then I took a step back to fully admire his beauty.

Damn, Wyatt was perfection. The curls and eyes I’d memorized decades ago. The lips and smile wrinkles were newer obsessions. His body was solid, swathed in golden hair. He had a scar on his stomach like he’d undergone surgery. His thighs were thick. Uncut and erect, his cock was the stuff of dreams. I’d ogled his ass enough in his snowflake pajamas to know that seeing it bare would send me into fits.

“Get naked,” he commanded.

I shivered in the warm room. The blazing fire had nothing on Wyatt.

I stripped.

He watched.

Then I watched as his whole body reacted to mine.

His hand was on my jaw, his hard, masculine body against mine as he took my lips in a bruising kiss that said he would never give them back. Then his rough hand moved down my sternum, between my breasts, and over my stomach as he pulled me closer with his other hand on my ass. My muscles quivered under his touch. His gaze flicked to mine, but his eyes were only fire. He didn’t stop his slow glide south until he was at the cleft aching to be explored.

Wyatt’s lips parted. It looked like he was struggling to breathe. “Hallelujah,” he whispered. “Hallelujah and holy fuck.”

“Where’s the Tylenol?” I joked.

His shoulders shook in a laugh. Wyatt opened his mouth to say something back, but I shook my head and covered his mouth with mine. I loved the taste of him, like coffee and home. I loved the feel of him, a solid wall of man covered in crisp hair. He squeezed my ass as he gave my bottom lip another wet suck. The erection digging into my stomach made me want to climb him like a tree.

“Condoms,” I ordered, breaking free. “Now. Places to go, crushes to fuck.”

He stared at me, held me, for a long moment. “Damn, dream girl. You’re already the best lover I’ve ever had.”

He disappeared through the kitchen. And yes, I checked out his naked ass. I needed a distraction from the torrent of emotions he insisted I feel in his presence.

While he was gone, I grabbed the blanket from the couch and spread it on the floor in front of the fire, the warmest place in the room. I was now doubly determined to finish—and christen—his bedroom before I left.

Very soon, Wyatt returned with a box of condoms in hand and promises in his eyes. He found me in front of the fireplace on my knees. After he recovered from that sight, he took a few steps closer, but not close enough for me to touch.

I wanted so badly to touch him.

“The things I’m going to do with you. To you,” he murmured.

Those last two words were uttered with his free hand wrapped around his cock.

The pulsing in my lady parts was getting out of control. Wyatt was going to find me wet and swollen and ready to shatter. There would be no hiding how much I wanted him.

I crooked a finger, and the light in his eyes blazed. All he had to do was walk a few more steps and I could touch him. Taste him. But he just stared and stroked, biting his own bottom lip this time.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Committing you to memory,” he rasped. “Your skin, your shape, those perfect tits, your legs spread wide and waiting for me.”

Then he pushed forward until my lips were inches from his cock. The box of condoms hit the floor. His hands dove into my hair, and I smiled as I took the move as permission.

“Go ahead, boss,” he ground out.

His guttural groan as I sucked him into my mouth flooded more wetness between my thighs. I used one hand to steady him and one to please him, and I felt every one of his moans in my own body.

Uncut was new to me, and I loved it. I loved figuring out what he loved, like taking him deep and tonguing the tip. But I still needed more. Maybe there’d never be enough.

I pulled off with a pop and pulled Wyatt down to his knees. He took my mouth with force, then tipped my head back and took my neck the same way. Rough. Branding.

He had me on my back before I even knew what happened. His hands circled my waist, gaze drinking me in. He moved slowly up my ribs, scattering sparks over my skin, until he cupped my tits. Flames consumed me as his thumbs brushed over the peaks right before he sucked a nipple into his mouth. I cried out, tunneling my fingers into his mussed curls to bring him closer.

He feasted on my nipples like I was his last meal, all the while dragging his cock through sensitive places.

I was too close. It was too soon. The enormity of the moment was too much.

I grabbed his face and brought it parallel with mine. “The boss wants to fuck you now.”

His low chuckle was one of acquiescence. Power flowed between us, first mine, then his, and back again.

I pushed Wyatt onto his back and helped him roll on a condom. We were mirror images of panting and pleasure as I sank down on his cock. I whimpered as he stretched me.

His fingers dug into my hips. “Fuuuuck, Olive,” he moaned, head dropping back.

I could hardly catch a breath. I could hardly stand the sensation of Wyatt filling me as he stared into my eyes. I was fucking my lifelong crush, the kind-faced boy who’d taught me how to kayak and play Mario Kart.

But then Wyatt seemed to find his bearings inside me. He tipped me forward with fire in his eyes, claiming my mouth again as his hips started to move. I met his thrusts with my own, exchanging moans in his arms.

God, the way he filled me. The way he fucked me from below while groaning my name against my lips. His calloused hands on my back, my breasts, my rim, brought unexpected heat. I had to see him. Breaking free of his kiss, I propped myself up on his chest.

The look in his eyes detonated in my heart like a bomb.

This is what I was missing with my partners back home. As acrobatic and award-winning as that sex was, it lacked meaning. It lacked the unspoken promises and safety in his gaze. It lacked this thread between our hearts.

“You fuck like a dream,” he moaned.

Because I was giving him all my years of daydreams and doodles of my name with his, all my dark-of-night fantasies where he dominated my body and I dominated his.

I moved faster, drinking down his grunts when I could, relishing the slide and slams of our bodies. With his hands guiding my ass, I could only go harder.

“That’s it, baby. Take me deep.”

Wyatt was soul deep, and I hope he knew it.

“Deeper, baby. I want everything.”

His fingers found my clit. He flicked and pinched, and when his mouth closed on a nipple again, I started to fall.

Through my cries I managed to say, “I’m going to come, Wyatt.”

He didn’t move his mouth from my breast. “Hell yes you are, dream girl. You’re going to come like you mean it.”

My body was a cluster of glowing stars moving through space. A collision of heat and friction.

“Come like you mean it. Come for me, Olive. Come on my cock.”

I exploded like a supernova.

Wyatt pumped up into my pulsing body as he came, too. Loudly. Fully. His eyes on mine.