Oh my god.

This was really happening.

And I was ready—more than ready—even down to being on birth control.

Wyatt carried me into the bedroom like I was the most fragile, precious thing he'd ever held. His grip was steady, protective, but his eyes—looked as dark as wet denim—held a storm of emotions I wasn't prepared for. He nudged the door closed behind us with his foot, and the quiet click felt final, as though the world outside had ceased to exist. 

Walking us to the bed, his hands shifted from my ass letting me unwrap myself from him, and he set me down with his hand lingering on my waist for a beat too long. Then his mouth was back on mine. The second his tongue rubbed against mine, my skin burned hot, an answering fever to the firmness of his grip and the hunger in his kiss.

I was feeling a little lightheaded as he pulled back and slipped my coat off and let it drop to the ground. His touch continued, rubbing and exploring over my clothes as he lowered to a crouch. Then I steadied myself gripping onto his shoulder as he gently removed my boots and socks. The cool air nipped where I needed it as his hands rested for a second on the back of my legs, caressing upward, leaving trails of goose-bumps and fire. Then he stood, and with his hands busy again, mine got busy too, grabbing and pulling at him, coming to a stop on his belt buckle.

"Slow down." He put his larger hand over mine.

"Why?" I asked, my breath catching as I searched the challenge in his eyes.

A dark eyebrow winged up. "'Cause I know if those greedy little hands of yours dive into my jeans, this won't last long—you get me?" He didn't wait for a reply as he slipped the straps of my dress off my shoulder, his fingers grazing my skin. The fabric pooled at my feet in a soft whisper, leaving me standing in just my underwear.  Thank god, I'd had the foresight to bring a couple of sexy sets he hadn't seen yet.

Wyatt stood back, his gaze stroking over me, slow and deliberate. Even though I was wearing more than earlier, I still couldn't help fidgeting under the intensity of it.

"Gracie," he said, his voice deepening, "I don't think I'll ever tire of seeing you like this."

"You've seen me like this before." The words came out hushed, a little husky, and so full of desire my whole face flushed.

"Doesn't matter," he said, his hands gripping onto my waist again. "It's like the first time every time with you."

I didn't know how to respond to that, so reigning in my impatience, I reached for the hem of his shirt, slowly pulling it over his head. My hands moved to his belt next, working the buckle loose as he stepped out of his boots. The sound of his jeans hitting the floor had my hand itching to touch some more, but then he beat me to it, taking off his underwear.

Wow. Now, standing naked and hard in front of me... I had to wonder where all the air had gone. And yeah, technically I'd seen him naked, but just like he said, I won't tire of seeing him like this either. He's perfect in my eyes.

Wyatt pulled me into him, the scent of his body flooding my nose, more powerful because he's naked, male, and clean as he cocooned me in his warmth. His kiss was soft and teasing as he opened my mouth gently with his tongue. I drew my hands up and over his back, tracing the warm skin of his shoulders as I nibbled on his plump bottom lip. He made a tortured noise in his throat and kissed me harder. When he pulled back, breathing hard, he licked the taste of me from his lips.

Damn, that mouth of his and my eyes fluttered closed as his lips travelled up from the base of my throat. When he reached my mouth, he kissed me again—rougher this time, like he couldn't hold back. His erection pressed against me, insistent and hot, sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through me. It pooled low in my belly, radiating outward until every nerve seemed to hum with awareness.

When he lifted his head, his eyes locked with mine, bright and burning with need. The intensity stole my breath. He looked so strong, so utterly commanding, that I felt a little overwhelmed.

It was almost enough to make me forget the enormity of what was about to happen—the way this moment could change everything, at least for me.

He dipped his head, his lips brushing the top of my breast before his tongue teased the lace covering my nipple. A soft gasp escaped as I tangled my fingers in his hair, tilting my head back to surrender to the warmth of his mouth. Each flick of his tongue ignited a slow, molten ache that spread quickly through me.

He was right—this wasn't something to rush. I didn't want to.

Wyatt slowly turned me around, pulling me tight against his chest. "Now be a good girl and take these off," he ordered quietly, tugging at the waistband of my panties.

I obeyed, sliding them down my thighs while he undid my bra and eased it off my shoulders. Now I stood completely bare, my back still to him, his breath warm and shallow against my skin. My own breathing matched his—fast and uneven—as his hands explored, trailing teasingly across my arms, the sides of my breasts, and the curve of my hips. He pressed soft, heated kisses along the back of my shoulder and up to the nape of my neck, each one sending sparks racing across my skin.

I dropped my head back onto him again and closed my eyes as he thumbed over my nipples softly—too softly—skimming his hands beneath them. I moaned and pushed back against his body, delighting in the feel of his erection expanding and hardening even more against my behind.

Wyatt's hands ventured lower, leaving no curve untouched before slipping between my thighs, using his finger to stroke and tease—slow, circular strokes that made me press against him, needy and insistent.

"I'm going to make you come." His teeth nipped at my ear. "Then I'm going to bury myself inside this tight, little pussy."

Whoosh.

I didn't think my body could get any hotter—but I was wrong.

I had my very own dirty-talker, and I shuddered at his promise. And if I thought reading about this would have prepared me—then I was wrong. So wrong. This was better.

"Wyatt," My voice came out breathy, needy.

"I've got you," he murmured against my ear, his breath hot and heavy. "Go kneel on the bed for me, baby."

Kneel?  

Okay. I did it, climbing up onto the bed on all fours Wyatt settled behind me. He urged my legs open as he skimmed the palm of his hand down my spine and across my ass before moving it down between my parted thighs. His finger circled the tight bundle of nerves, and my back arched down as if it didn't need to be told what to do. Then he spread me open, and I couldn't help the moan that followed. 

I felt one thick finger...then another and I moaned louder, my body arching further, my legs spreading wider.

"Oh my god, Wyatt."

"Look at you," he said. "You're so goddamn wet for me."

Then his fingers were gone and I heard a hum forcing my head to flick over my shoulder.  He had his fingers in his mouth and his other hand was fisting his cock, squeezing it so tightly pre-cum was wetting the tip. "See? You're not the only one whose wet."

That devastating smirk could easily be my undoing and my cheeks flushed hotter.  

"Turn around," he said in that tone again and I slowly turned my head back around.  

—Holy-shit, his mouth—on my right butt cheek, which he bit at softly, moving to the other to do the same, and then he moved his mouth to where I needed it most.  I couldn't identify the noise I made feeling the flat of his tongue push against my clit.  "Oh...oh..." Another lick.  "I—" my eyes rolled back in my head... and then his hot, wet tongue pushed inside me as his fingers kept me wide open.

"Wyatt..." The angle was a little strange, different to earlier, but it was intense too, and I dropped my head to the duvet.

"You look amazing like this—" he said, but I was too lost in the sensations to form a response.

I was going to come. With skilled movements of his fingers and his tongue he began to tease my orgasm from me. Precise. Neat. Breaths. Soft. Wet. Licks. Gentle. Bites. Moans.

It took no time at all to fall over that edge.

It would be so easy to get addicted to this.

But he wasn't done.

Before I could fully recover, Wyatt flipped me over in one effortless move. The world tilted as he laid me down, his body following mine, pressing me into the mattress.

He hovered over me for a moment, his eyes locked on mine, searching. "You ready?" he asked, his voice low but full of concern.

I nodded, reaching up to pull him closer. "More than ready."

"Good," he groaned, "Because I'm struggling right now. Can you feel how hard you make me?"

Boy, did I.

He reached for his cock. "Are you sure you don't want me to go grab a condom?" 

"No. I want nothing between us."

He nodded, and my heart rate picked up speed as he positioned the head at my opening. "This might hurt a little," he said, his voice tight with restraint.

My small hands cupped his face. "I know I'm safe with you. I trust you."

He stared at me for a second, his gaze a mix of desire and concern, but with my breath glued to my lungs, I willed myself to open, to embrace the not knowing.  The first brush of him made me gasp. Slowly, achingly slowly, he pushed inside, filling me inch by inch until I wasn't sure where I ended, and he began.

"Christ, Gracie," he sucked in sharply as I gripped his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as I adjusted to the stretch. "Am I hurting you?" he rasped.

"Kinda."

His whole body tensed. "Want me to pull out?"

Hell no. "No." That was the last thing I wanted.

He kissed me again, remaining still, but then he pulled almost fully out and then back in slowly again. This time I hardly felt any discomfort. "Christ. You feel amazing."

I blinked in awe. It wasn't like I expected. There weren't fireworks or symphonies like I'd read—this was something raw and deep and so overwhelming I had to wrestle with my breath. Wyatt stilled, his forehead pressed to mine as he whispered. "You okay?"

I nodded, my lips trembling into a smile. "Yeah. Better than okay now."  That seemed to do the trick and the tension eased right outta him.

"Tell me to stop at any time."

He began to move, his rhythm unhurried but deliberate, a push and pull that felt like coming home. He planted his hands on either side of me while his lips explored my neck, my collarbone, my mouth.

"Gracie," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "You're everything. You know that, don't you?"

Unable to answer, too overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Instead, I tangled my fingers in his hair, tugging him down for another kiss, hoping he could feel everything I couldn't say.

But I did know something for a fact. No book, no fantasy, could have prepared me for this. For him. For us. From now on, it was us—Wyatt and me, together in a way that felt unbreakable.

He shifted position, licked his finger and used it to stroke my clit.

"Oh my god," I stammered, gasping at the way his cock hit a spot that sent pressure building deep inside me, sharp and overwhelming. "Oh god..." My muscles clenched around him, so tightly I thought I might push him out.

Wyatt hissed and cursed out, but I was too far gone as it hit me all at once, and I was coming undone for a second time in less than a few minutes burying my face in his shoulder, his name on repeat, and when I finally opened my eyes he was looking at me.

I swallowed. "Did you?" I asked, hoping he would know what I meant.

"Yeah."

Phew. I'd been so wrapped up in my orgasm I forgot about his.

"I love you," I blurted out, not sure if I'd said it right, but his smile said I did.

"You okay?" he asked, his lips brushing my temple.

I wet my dry lips. "I've read a lot of books about this," which he already knew, "and they all make it sound like fireworks and thunderclaps and... I don't know, maybe a symphony or two."

His brow lifted in amusement. "And what do you think so far?"

I pressed a palm to his chest, feeling the steady, grounding rhythm of his heart. "So far? You're better than fiction."

"Good to know." His grin was quick and devastating, the kind that made my insides flutter. "Give me a few minutes to recover, and then we're doin' it again."

Damn, right we were... I would make sure he followed through on that promise.

My face ached with the smile etched into it as I leaned back in the studio chair, watching Gracie through the glass. She was with Mac in the recording booth, her hands fluttering as she spoke, her excitement spilling over into every movement. Mac was gesturing to the equipment, explaining something I couldn't hear, but she nodded eagerly, hanging on his every word.

It was hard to focus on anything but her—not that I wanted to. It had everything to do with last night. Before Gracie, I hadn't put much thought into sex at all. Sure, there had been hookups here and there, but it had always felt hollow, like something I was supposed to want but never truly did. The chase, the thrill—none of it had ever appealed to me the way it seemed to for other guys. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy it; it just didn't mean much. It had never been about connection, never something that felt worth pursuing.

But with Gracie... everything was different. She'd shown me what it could be—what it should be.

Last night wasn't just sex. It was a culmination, the kind of moment that tied us together in ways I didn't have words for. Gracie wasn't just someone I wanted; she was the only person who had ever made me feel like this. She flipped some switch in me, rewiring everything I thought I understood.

Twice more, I'd got lost in her sweet body, and this morning, we'd barely managed to get out of the hotel room on time. The shower had turned into a whole other adventure, leaving us scrambling for clothes at the last minute. She had this way of pulling me under, her teasing laugh and the softness of her touch impossible to resist. I didn't want to resist.

I knew, without question, that I'd never get enough of her.

"She's a natural, you know." Cynthia's voice broke into my thoughts, her tone half-serious and half-teasing, as usual. She was perched on the chair next to me, her ever-present coffee cup in hand, her short, spiky hair catching the low light of the studio.

I turned to look at her, but her gaze was fixed on Gracie. "Yeah," I said, leaning forward slightly. "I've always known that."

Cynthia let out a soft laugh. "Oh, you're smitten, aren't you? Like a puppy chasing its tail." She waved a hand in the air, cutting me off before I could respond. "Don't bother denying it, doctor. It's written all over your face."

I shook my head, chuckling, and returned my attention to Gracie. Mac was pointing to the microphone now, and she was nodding enthusiastically. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she slipped on the headphones, her smile widening as Mac adjusted a few settings on the soundboard.

"What's he having her do?" I asked Cynthia, nodding toward the booth.

"Oh, just the basics," she said, crossing one leg over the other. "Testing levels, getting her used to the equipment. Mac's thorough, but he knows what he's doing. He wants her comfortable before they dive in." She paused, taking a sip of her coffee. "Though, with her talent, I doubt she'll need much time to settle."

I didn't think so either, but Mac and Cynthia were the experts here. "You think she's that good?"

"Wyatt," she said, her voice dropping to that rare, serious tone she used when she wasn't joking around. "She's not just good. She's got something special. Most people don't light up a room just by walking in, but Gracie? She's got that spark, and it translates into her music. You don't see that every day."

Pride swelled in my chest as I watched Gracie adjust the mic stand. She looked so at ease in there, like she belonged. I'd always known she was talented—hell, she could silence a crowd with just her voice and a guitar—but seeing her here, in a real studio, brought it to a whole new level.

Mac gave her a thumbs-up from his side of the glass, and the music started to play in her headphones. Gracie closed her eyes for a moment, swaying slightly to the beat, and then she began to sing.

Cynthia flicked a switch on a nod from Mac, and Gracie's voice came through the speakers, rich and clear, filling the room with a haunting melody that gave me chills. Even Cynthia stopped sipping her coffee, her eyes widening as she sat up straighter.

"Damn," she whispered, glancing at me. "I think I just got goosebumps."

I didn't respond—I couldn't. All I could do was watch her, mesmerised, as she poured herself into the song. Every note, every word, was raw and real, and I knew I wasn't the only one feeling it.

Gracie finished the first verse, her voice lingering in the air like a held breath. Mac leaned into the mic on his side of the booth, saying something that made her smile and nod.

Cynthia nudged my arm, breaking my trance. "Better hold onto her, Wyatt," she said with a smirk. "Because once the world hears her, they're not going to let her go."

Her words stuck with me, even as I tried to shake them off. My gaze stayed on Gracie, her face alight with joy and purpose as she sang. She was in her element, her voice soaring like it was meant to fill not just this room but something much bigger.

And then, unexpectedly, a memory stirred—something my grandmother had told me. My mother had given up her dreams to marry my dad. She'd been a ballet dancer, brilliant and full of potential, but my father had wanted kids, a family. That life didn't leave room for stages and applause. My grandmother never sugar-coated it—my mom might have loved us, but she missed performing. It ate at her in ways I never truly understood until now.

I looked at Gracie and made a quiet promise to myself. If this is where her path led—if the world saw what I saw in her, and she became the star she was born to be—I'd make sure she lived out her dreams even if I didn't know what that meant for us.

The thought tightened something in my chest, but I knew it was the right thing to do. Loving her wasn't about keeping her. It was about lifting her up, no matter where that took her.

Gracie turned her head just then, catching my eye through the glass, and her smile was enough to dissolve the ache in my chest for the moment. I smiled back, hoping she could feel everything I wasn't saying.