Snowflakes in Seattle

Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

OLIVE

W e stayed in bed the next day well past noon.

After sex that redefined the word, Wyatt had taken me to dinner. An actual date, with the “Will you go out with me?” question preceding it. He’d even blushed when he’d asked, though the man had been deep inside me minutes before.

His nerves had been adorable. And before that? Hot as hell. Wyatt unhinged was a thing of beauty. So many words had left his mouth. Confessions. Wishes. All involving me. He’d set off explosions in my body unlike any I’d known. He’d ruined me.

Then, being the gentleman he was, he’d taken me to a Korean restaurant in the International District that I’d frequented as a kid. The place had smelled exactly the same, like spicy pork and my early years. The unexpected snowfall meant the restaurant had been nearly empty.

Never had I ever imagined eating there with Wyatt Parker. Never had I ever imagined any of this, starting from the green haze in the sky to handprints on my ass to sharing a plate of post-coital japchae with my childhood crush. Soon, it would all feel like a dream. Credits rolling.

I wasn’t ready for my time with Wyatt to become a memory.

How could I be, when he’d left marks on my body and heart? I’d seen the hickey. Felt the handprints. The warmth under my ribs.

But I wasn’t ready to do anything about how badly I wanted to stay with him, either. My job and my family were too important to me, and Pear was my sister from another mister. My life partner. We were going to grow old together, changing the world through construction and photography, her chosen profession.

Instead of dwelling on my departure, I snuggled deeper into Wyatt’s lap. The scruff on his cheeks scraped against my neck as the happy rumble in his chest brushed against my soul. I let out a satisfied noise of my own. He was so comfortable, so warm and welcoming.

We were propped up in his bed against a mountain of pillows, my laptop in front of us. “Look,” I said, pointing to the column headers. “This is what I track in my diversity database. What do you want to keep track of or work on growing?”

He leaned closer to the screen, hands sliding down my thighs. I could get behind more meetings that involved Wyatt’s skin on mine.

“I want stories and quotes,” he told me. “I want to know how we’re helping these businesses. Maybe I can find patterns and start being more proactive about what we offer them. Specific training or networking opportunities.”

“Genius,” I said, adding two columns into the database we were making for him.

“Are you sure you don’t mind sending me this?” he asked for the millionth time.

I shook my head. The database, really just a spreadsheet, had taken me years to hone, true, but sharing it meant I could help more businesses and Wyatt with their goals. A win-win with only a few clicks. “I’m happy to share,” I told him.

“I’m not,” he muttered into my hair. He gave my thighs a gentle squeeze. He’d seemed unable to stop touching me since I’d broken the kiss barrier yesterday. Even at the restaurant. His constant touching made me all mushy inside. “I don’t want to give you back to the good people of Phoenix. I prefer this side quest you’re on.”

I’d rebooked my ticket—again—and was now leaving on the first, less than two days away. I felt in my bones, as surely as I felt Wyatt’s warmth behind me, that my departure was real this time. There’d be no rogue waves washing out the runways at PHX.

“Me, too,” I whispered. “I kinda like you, old man.”

“I kinda like you, too, boss.”

There was no “kinda” about it, and we both knew it.

He nuzzled into my shoulder as we talked through the rest of the database and our favorite resources to find disadvantaged businesses with whom to partner. Wyatt was old school and liked to use networking and recruiting events to feel them out, where I was a fan of internet research and email.

I was again reminded how we’d make a good team. Balance each other out. Too bad Blake Builds and Vertex were a thousand miles apart and that both companies needed us.

“Can we be done working now?” he murmured, planting a kiss on my neck. “I need to hear you scream again.”

I flipped around in his lap to straddle him. He was in that snowflake pants-white tee ensemble that would forever be imprinted on my heart. So touchable. So kissable.

I had my way with his mouth, lighting up from the depth of it all. His kisses, my feelings. His cock thickened and he lifted up into me as if by instinct. I ground down, my pajama shorts doing nothing to block the sensation.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered against my mouth. “Get dirty with me, little Olive.”

Being tied up and at Wyatt’s mercy had been fun. Sexy times a hundred. I’d always wondered about restraints, but had never before been willing to hand over that power. I was pretty bold in the bedroom, and there weren’t a lot of experiences I hadn’t requested or tried.

Except one. Because it wasn’t in the bedroom.

To be outside, in public, somewhere I could get caught, called to my spirit in wicked ways. But I wasn’t willing to risk frostbite for the thrill.

A lascivious grin spread across his face. “Tell me what you’re thinking. I know it’s good. You’re blushing.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Snorting, I attempted to distract him by kissing a trail down his neck. He moaned and leaned in, burying his hands in my loose hair. I hissed at the spreading ache caused by the bulge just below my core and started a slow grind, working myself on his hard cock.

“God, yes,” he groaned. Then his hands tightened in my hair. “Wait, no. You’re trying to distract me. Tell me what I can give you, Olive. Please.”

The last word was dragged out and accompanied by teeth on my neck.

Oh, hell. He’d confided in me, hadn’t he, when communicating admittedly wasn’t his thing? I’d have to do the same, even if it felt like ripping the lock off a diary and reading the secrets aloud. This was sacred soul stuff.

But so was this man from my past. Like I’d told him, who better to trust with secret longings?

His hazel eyes held nothing but understanding. “You’re safe with me.”

I wasn’t so sure. My heart was close to unpacking its bags and moving right into this houseboat.

“Getting caught,” I confessed. “Or the possibility of it.”

“Getting caught,” he repeated, chewing his lip in thought. “I can work with that.”

“You don’t have to. You’re enough. Just you. We had a BTS dance party and epic sex. It snowed .”

“And you got new slippers,” he added with a wink.

“And new slippers,” I agreed, chuckling.

I buried my fingers in his crazy curls as I dropped a kiss on his lips. He slipped my shorts off and a condom on.

“You’re enough, too,” he whispered. “You’re everything, Olive.”

Kneeling between my parted legs, Wyatt was inside me in a single thrust. He fucked me slow and deep amid the smell of paint and the sound of words he usually kept locked up.

This time, he let me use my hands. I left my own marks, blazed my own trails.

And nearly shared my own secrets.

New Year’s Eve had ended up clear and cold. When I finally dragged myself away from the warm bed and its warmer inhabitant in the late afternoon, I made my way to the rooftop deck—bundled in Wyatt’s winter gear, of course—to catch some very non-Maldivian rays. I lit the fire table and heater closest to the little porch swing. I’d been smart enough to bring the throw blanket from the couch and some peanut butter whiskey in my Thermos of decaf, along with my unfinished Brené Brown book. I was learning. Adapting.

I’d caught up with Pear, who’d had news as juicy as her name. Apparently, a certain Adonis Belt, the infamous V on a man, had made her do naughty, naughty things. Don’t think, just do kind of things.

I was happy for my girl.

And myself.

It was not the beach or even my breezy patio, but the urban lake offered its own startling beauty. A whole city crowded onto the shores, with white-capped mountains in the distance. Wyatt’s home was dazzling.

Taking a sip of hot coffee, I tucked myself into the cushioned swing and let my mind wander. More often than not, my thoughts meandered downstairs, where Wyatt was either cooking a feast or slaying virtual enemies or both. His bedroom looked fantastic, and if I’d had more time and more paint, we would have tackled the living room, too. The kitchen and bathroom needed serious gut jobs.

Mostly, I thought of the man. How easily we’d fallen into sync. How much I enjoyed his company. His body. How, after all this time, parts of my heart still belonged to my childhood crush.

I never even cracked open my book, my thoughts everywhere and nowhere at all.

The sun had started to set. I hadn’t realized I’d been missing him until his head popped over the railing. My heart gave a happy thump as more of him appeared.

I gasped. “For the love of my lady parts, Wyatt.”

His curls had been tamed. With product. He had on a blue dress shirt and a darker blue jacket. Nice jeans. Brown suede boots not meant for construction sites. I liked this man in fleece and slippers. In this outfit? I dared not think the word.

“Now you know how I feel every time I look at you.” He smirked as he sauntered toward me, not stopping until his lips were on mine. I grabbed his face and let him know what I thought of him in this surprising and super sexy outfit.

“Come downstairs and get changed,” he murmured into my lips. “You’ve got to have a dress in your suitcase, right? Preferably one I can remove easily?”

“Mm-hm.” Now who couldn’t form words? I blinked through my lust haze. “What do you have planned?”

He straightened. “It’s New Year’s Eve. I’m taking you to dinner. Somewhere nice with tablecloths and a valet.” He tipped his head toward the ladder. “Let’s go, my little Olive. Dinner first, then dessert.”

Gathering up all my stuff, I turned to my crush. “Oh? What’s for dessert?”

His grin sent flames spiraling from my core. “You know it’s you.”