He ran his hands from her shoulders, over the lacy lingerie, and down the front of her body until he landed on the waistband of her pants. A slight tug and she lifted her hips to allow him to pull them free and join the rest of their clothes across the room.
She moved her legs back around him, but he captured her right heel before she could lock them into place. His thumb stroked along her Achilles tendon, a spot she’d never thought erogenous before but now drove her insane.
Wyatt grazed his lips along her calf, his teeth sinking into the skin behind her knee. He hooked her ankle over his shoulder and bent down, rubbing the hard bulge of denim against her heated core.
Georgia groaned, and he laughed in response, his mouth brushing over hers.
“Do you like that, Gigi?”
She growled in response, gripping his shoulders tightly. “I’d like for my fiancé to get his fine ass naked and show me that he hasn’t forgotten how to take a good ride in his…lengthy retirement.”
He stilled over her for half a second before erupting into laughter. “You are the only woman who could drive every part of me crazy at the same time.”
Allowing her eyes to feast on him as he stood to remove his jeans and boxers, she reached behind her and unhooked her bra before sliding her underwear down and kicking them free. “I take that as a compliment of the highest order.”
Wyatt dropped between her open thighs, his lips finding hers immediately. “I love you, Angel.”
She gripped his neck and pulled him back slightly to lock eyes with him. “And I love you too, Cowboy.”
He kissed a path from her mouth to one puckered nub as his finger pinched and teased the other before he switched sides. Georgia arched into him, every nerve tingling, her body responding to him in the way it only ever did for Wyatt.
His thumbs moved to caress her hipbones as his mouth continued down her abdomen, his tongue dipping inside her navel. As his lips brushed her heated core, her head shot up, and she almost exploded at the sight of that ridiculous cowboy hat planted between her thighs.
All of the oxygen shot from her mouth as his tongue ran up the seam. She fell back on the cushion of hay, panting as his hands and lips wreaked havoc on her body, teasing and tormenting her until she barely clung to the edge of sanity.
With a final suck on the tiny bundle of aching nerves, begging for undivided attention, Georgia’s hold released and she was launched from the pinnacle into a sea of exquisite pleasure. Wave after wave crashed over her with his continued ministrations until she tugged him back up her body. “Condom?”
He held a foil packet between his thumb and forefinger with a cocky grin. “Got it covered. Well, not yet, but I will.” He winked and ripped the package.
She levered up on her elbows and frowned at him. “Where the hell did you pull that thing from? Do you have a secret stash somewhere?”
Wyatt chuckled as he sheathed himself and returned to her, nuzzling into the nape of her neck. “A man’s belt buckle is an important thing, Gigi. Especially when it has a handy compartment to keep emergency necessities.”
“Only you, Cowboy.” She lifted her hips and pushed against his hard length as she tried to catch her breath.
Wyatt raised up onto his elbows and stared at her for a long moment before he rocked his hips forward and slid inside, filling her physically. “Thank you for loving me enough to give me a second chance.”
And just like that, her stupid freaking cowboy managed to fill her heart just as much as his body had.
He moved slowly at first, sealing his words with every stroke inside of her, but the passion that always consumed them quickly took over, and within moments, another burst of stars exploded in front of Georgia’s vision. She was swept up in a fresh current of ecstasy when Wyatt growled his own release close to her ear.
Several long seconds later, he peeled himself from her and fell beside her on his back with a deep chuckle.
Georgia reached over and pinched his arm. “Hey, maybe all those buckle bunnies let you get away with this kind of behavior, but it’s typically frowned upon for you to laugh after you’re done making love to your future wife.”
He turned onto his side and propped his head up with his hand, his elbow resting just above her shoulder. “Sorry, Angel, but you gotta admit, it’s pretty damn funny.”
“What’s that, Cowboy? I wasn’t timing you. Did you manage to last a full eight seconds?”
His expression sobered, and he held up one finger. “First, that isn’t funny. You are more than welcome to run a clock next time, and I guarantee you’ll be sufficiently impressed with my endurance abilities.” He picked a piece of straw from her hair and stuck it in his mouth. “What is funny is, after all my high school fantasies, I finally got an actual roll in the hay.”
Georgia winked and pulled the stem from his mouth and brought his lips down to hers. “Happy to be of service, Cowboy.”
Epilogue
Three Months Later
“Hey, big brother! I can’t believe you’re actually hitched!” Connor slung his arm around Wyatt’s shoulders in an awkward and unsteady embrace.
Wyatt sighed and disengaged from the younger man. “Dammit, Connor, couldn’t you keep your shit together just for one day? Especially considering the fact it’s my wedding day.”
Matching blue eyes, the one trait every brother had inherited from their father, narrowed at him as Connor straightened to his full height. “I’m fine. I keep telling you that. This is a party. People are supposed to be happy. Damn, what happened to you? You were supposed to be the fun brother.”
Before Wyatt could give him the appropriate ass beating—either physically or verbally, whichever came first—that he so richly deserved, Dean grabbed Connor’s swaying form. “Go make out with your wife or whatever the hell you old married people do. I’ve got this one.”
Soft hands encircled his bicep and shoulder from behind, and a delicate chin rested on his shoulder. “We’ll figure out what to do with him.”
Wyatt turned and pulled his newly minted bride flush against his body. He captured her left hand and kissed the diamond and onyx ring he’d slipped on her finger in the early morning hours a few days after they’d reconciled. “He does have one thing going for him. That whole making out with my wife thing sounds like a pretty damn good idea.”
He pulled her behind the large tree adorned with mason jars filled with candles hanging from the limbs on crystal strings. Where to have their wedding hadn’t been in question for a moment, especially not once Wyatt finally disclosed that RA Ranch was, in fact, the Rhinestone Angel Ranch. Meant for them from the beginning.
“Aren’t there things we are supposed to be doing like cutting the cake or entertaining guests or…” The words died on her lips as he pressed her against the tree, and his lips descended to her neck, making a trail of fire down to her shoulder.
Wyatt pulled back and clucked his tongue. “What do I keep telling you, Angel? Who cares what we are supposed to do? We were meant to be different.”
The End
Acknowledgements
For my Double A Team, the reason I do everything, including breathe.
For Ginger who has inspired my character Georgia with her state name and love of USF. The Iconic Bull plays an epic role here.
As always to my beloved hashtags and the brilliant ladies attached to them.
My #RChat lovelies, you are the reason I have a single book, much less a series. Your endless support and the lessons you’ve taught me have shaped my writing life. I could not have done this without you.
My #BoardmanBitches Evie & Hannah, I can never thank you enough for living close enough to make the real life struggles bearable.
My #MDO darlings Evie, Marit, and Meka, our inappropriate jokes, half (or more than half) naked men, and adult toy discussions give me life.
As always, I have to end with all the gratitude for the person—MY person—who refused to allow me to quit, told me breaks were okay, and sh
ined a light to help me find my way out of several bouts of writer’s block. Evie, I can never thank you enough for being you, for being here, and for being mine.
About the Author
Books, coffee, and chocolate make up both the heart and body mass that is better known as Amelia Foster. She has been a lifelong lover of the written word, both as a reader and an author, and completed her first manuscript at the ripe old age of five complete with illustrations. Sadly, her art was a medium that never improved over time although thankfully her writing has.
From sweet to salacious the only requirement Amelia has in books she reads–and definitely in the ones she crafts–is an excessively satisfying happily ever after…and then a little bit more.
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Meant To Be Different Page 23