Torch: The Wildwood Series

by Karen Erickson

  The sharp laughter that escaped him made her giggle too. “I’m afraid so,” he said, his voice deadly serious. Dipping his head, he brushed her mouth with his, whispering, “You feel so fucking good.”

  Wren couldn’t find the words to express just how good he felt. So she merely said, “You do too.”

  But those three words seemed good enough.

  TATE WAS TRYING to be patient. He wanted to take his time and make sure she was satisfied. But it was proving damn difficult what with the way she squirmed beneath him. Or how her breasts bounced, her pale pink nipples hard, tempting little points he wanted to suck. He was a breast man, he could always admit to that, but damn, he really loved Wren’s ass too. In fact, he’d like to flip her over on her knees and fuck her from behind. Would she be down for that? Not tonight but next time? He’d love nothing more but to watch his dick push inside her while she was on her hands and knees, her back arching as she tossed her hair away from her face . . .

  He was getting ahead of himself, thinking of future fucking when he should concentrate on here-and-now fucking. Bracing his hands on the mattress on each side of her head, he circled his hips and thrust deep, holding there for an agonizing moment before he withdrew, then pushed inside again.

  She arched beneath him, a tortured sound falling from her swollen lips. He knew it would be good between them but didn’t think it would be this good. She wrapped her legs around his hips, her hands gripping his shoulders, and he wound an arm around her waist, pulling her in closer, sending him deeper.

  They groaned in unison at the sensation, and he started to fuck her in earnest, their gasping breaths mingling, her feet digging into the small of his back. She felt so damn good, so warm and wet and fucking tight. He pushed and pushed, as if he couldn’t get deep enough. Like he couldn’t fuck her fast enough, like he couldn’t get enough of her. He slipped his fingers between them, searching for and finding her clit. He rubbed quick little circles, her inner walls rippling around his dick, and he knew she was close.

  “Come for me, Dove,” he urged, and fuck, just like that she did. She cried out, her pussy gripping his cock with enough force to make him see stars, and then he was coming too, groaning her name just before he collapsed on top of her in a shuddering heap.

  So much for prolonging the moment.

  His bones were liquid as he lay there trying to catch his breath. His heart thundered, roaring in his ears, and he inhaled deeply, taking with him the scent of sex, of sweat, and Wren’s citrusy shampoo.

  “I’m crushing you,” he said when he could finally speak. He started to lift himself off her, but her hands went to his ass, keeping him in place.

  “Just a few more minutes,” she murmured, her voice muffled by his chest. “I like this.”

  Ah, Christ. This girl knew just how to burrow in deep and attach herself to him. He liked her—a lot. The sex was phenomenal. She was smart. She seemed to tolerate his bullshit. She made him laugh. She made his dick hard. She kissed him, and he never wanted to stop. And she didn’t complain when he came too fast or smashed her into the mattress with his body weight.

  He made sure she had an orgasm. They were two for two so far. If she gave him some time to rest, he’d be inclined to see if they could make it three for three.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said a few minutes later before rolling off her and climbing off the bed. He removed the condom and tossed it into the trash can in his bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The light was off, but he could still see himself thanks to the moonlight filtering through the small window near the ceiling. His hair was a disaster, his eyes were droopy, and his mouth was swollen. He scratched at his chest, glanced down at his—well, what do you know?—semi-erect cock, and was surprised he was still sporting wood.

  He didn’t look any different, but damn, he felt different. He felt . . . alive. His skin tingled, and his heart thumped extra hard. That had been, without a doubt, the best sexual experience of his life. He’d kissed her, went down on her while she leaned against the wall in his hallway, and fuck, it had been so damn good. The way she writhed on his lap, stroked his dick, how perfectly their bodies fit, all of it added up to a mind-blowing experience. There hadn’t been anything particularly unusual or outrageous about the actual act between them. Truly, it was mostly standard fare, if he was being honest.

  But he’d experienced it with Wren. That’s what pushed it to another level. He liked her. When he touched her, kissed her, it felt like it meant something. He just had sex with a girl he cared about. And he wanted more.

  He wanted it all.

  “Tate,” Wren called, interrupting his thoughts. “Come back to bed.”

  He’d do whatever she wanted, no questions asked.

  Smiling, he strode back out into the room, scratching his chest as he approached the bed. Wren had rearranged herself so she was sitting up, propped against a mountain of pillows, the dark blue sheet wrapped tight around her chest and tucked under her arms. Her hair was in complete disarray, and her skin was flushed a rosy pink.

  She was . . . beautiful.

  He stopped at the side of the bed, letting his gaze rove over her, his cock magically growing harder by the second just by looking at her.

  Wren noticed, her gaze dropping to his dick, her eyes widening before they returned to his. “Already?” she asked, her voice a squeak.

  He nodded, reaching down to stroke himself. He wished she was the one stroking him, but he’d settle for his own hand for the moment. “You up for another round?”

  She sat up straight and let the sheet fall into a puddle around her waist, exposing her perfect, mouthwatering tits. He was immediately seized with the urge to suck on her nipples. “Okay,” she said breathlessly.

  Without hesitation he climbed onto the bed and grabbed her, rolling over so she was on top of him, her legs sliding down to wrap around his hips as her hot pussy pressed against his stomach. He rested his hands on her rounded ass, pulling her in so he could feel all that wet, hot warmth on his cock. His eyes nearly crossed at the sensation.

  “This time I want to take it slow,” he told her, his hands smoothing around to her hips, thumbs sliding down to toy with her pubic hair. “Take my time with you.”

  “That sounds . . . perfect,” she agreed with an enthusiastic nod, making him chuckle.

  He let his hands wander farther, caressing her soft, fragrant skin, enjoying the purrs of pleasure that emanated from her throat. Her hips grew restless, her pussy rubbing against his dick and nearly making him lose his shit. He sat up, drawing one perfect pink nipple between his lips to give it a thorough suck.

  “I hope you realize this won’t be for just one night,” he told her after he released her nipple from his mouth.

  She tilted her head down so their gazes met. “What do mean?”

  “Us. This.” He waved a hand in between them. “It’s not a one-time deal.”

  “All right.” She sunk her teeth into her lower lip, blinking at him, looking unsure.

  “I want more.” He kissed her, sweeping his tongue into her mouth, making her moan when he pulled away. “This is too good to give up on.”

  Wren kept on blinking, like she couldn’t compute what he said. “Wait a minute. Are you serious?”

  He nodded, his expression solemn, his heart pounding. He’d never said this sort of stuff to a woman. He wasn’t one to make promises he couldn’t keep. But Wren . . . was different. She deserved so much more than he could probably give, but he’d try anyway. He wanted to make her promises. He also wanted to keep them.

  He cared about her.

  Could see himself falling in love with her if he didn’t watch it.

  She touched his face, her fingers drifting over his jaw, his chin, coming up to touch his lips. She said nothing, didn’t agree that they were too good to give up on, but she didn’t protest either. In the end, she merely kissed him, until they were rolling around on the bed wrapped up in each other. They didn’t talk. The
y didn’t need to. And when the moment was right and they couldn’t stand it any longer, he grabbed another condom and pushed eagerly inside her.

  It was good enough. It was fucking great.

  He never wanted it to end.

  Chapter Sixteen

  WREN OPENED TATE’S front door to find her two very best friends standing on the front porch, their expressions one of identical concern. “What happened?” she asked, her voice hollow, her legs weak. If they told her something horrible happened to Tate . . .

  She didn’t know what she might do.

  “Everything’s fine,” Delilah reassured her, reaching out to pat Wren’s arm. “We need to talk though.”

  Opening the door wider, Wren waved them in. Delilah gave her an apologetic smile. Harper sent her a look that said she believed she was straight-up crazy.

  What in the world did that look mean? And what could they want? Wren shut the door and turned the lock into place, counting to three before she faced them with a bright smile. “What’s up, ladies?”

  “We should be asking you that question,” Harper said as she folded her arms in front of her, tapping her foot on the floor. Her sandal slapped loudly on the bare wood, and Delilah winced.

  “Harp, stop that,” Delilah said.

  “No. She needs to explain herself.” Harper dropped her arms and glared at Wren. “Start explaining.”

  “I . . . ” Wren’s voice drifted. What in the world could they be mad about? She hadn’t told anyone what happened between her and Tate. How wonderful it had been. How it made her feel when he just looked at her, let alone when he touched her. Kissed her. First slipped inside her . . .

  Two nights ago had been the first time they’d had sex, and she still walked around with a dreamy smile on her face, like she was in a stupor. And maybe she was. A Tate-induced stupor, which was a nice place to be. She couldn’t wait for him to get off work so they could spend his days off together.

  In bed.

  Naked.

  Harper snapped her fingers, making Wren blink. “Earth to Wren. I can’t believe you didn’t tell us.”

  “Well, it just . . . It happened so fast.” She shuffled her feet and glanced down at the floor, her mind a whirlwind of confusion. What was the big deal if she did actually have sex with Tate? They should be thrilled. They’d been pushing her toward him for what felt like forever. It made no sense. Was she not allowed any happiness? That wasn’t fair.

  Not that life was ever fair, but for once, Wren was starting to think it was actually on her side.

  “You think just because Levi comes back into town and sweet-talks you that it’s a good idea for you to leave with him? So you can live with him in his fancy mansion?” Harper shook her head and sunk into the dark gray couch, her mouth drawn into a thin line. “That sounds like the worst idea in the world.”

  “Especially since you’re living with Tate,” Delilah added as she settled on the couch next to Harper, her gaze full of concern. “I mean, we know you two aren’t in a serious relationship or anything, but we were hoping . . . ”

  “Wait a minute.” Wren settled into the overstuffed chair that sat across from the couch, perching on the edge of the seat. “Did you just say Levi?”

  Harper nodded, leaning forward. “Don’t play dumb. I spoke to him myself. He was downright giddy, telling me that you were going to go back to San Francisco with him.” She hesitated, but then the words burst out like she couldn’t stop them. “Are you out of your freaking mind? You can’t leave with Levi Hamilton. You’re supposed to hate him!”

  “I don’t hate him.” Wren shook her head, amused that her friends would be so concerned with her mental state that they both came over to talk to her. They were always looking out for her best interests, and she appreciated that. Brutal honesty was one of their vows to each other, and right now, Harper was the epitome of brutal honesty.

  “You should,” Harper practically spit out. “He’s a dick.”

  “Harper,” Delilah said, but Harper turned to glare at her.

  “What? You know it’s true.” Harper turned her sharp gaze on Wren. “And you know it’s true too. That guy walked all over you. It was all about him throughout your entire relationship. Don’t deny it,” she said when Wren opened her mouth to protest. “We were young and stupid, and that’s your excuse. You will have no excuse if you go back to him. None.”

  “You don’t even know him anymore,” Delilah pointed out, her voice much gentler. If they were playing bad cop/good cop, their roles were obvious. “It’s been what . . . ten years since the two of you last talked? A lot of time has passed. The both of you have changed so much.”

  Wren listened, let them go on about bad choices and leaving the past in the past. She wanted them to get it all out of their system before she told them what was really up. It was almost amusing, how mad they were at her. How they actually thought she’d give everything up to go back to Levi. But she knew if she so much as smiled they’d jump all over her.

  So she let them get their concerns out first.

  “Are you done?” Wren asked when Harper finally shut up. She’d gone on for at least ten minutes, but it had felt longer.

  Harper nodded, her gaze narrowing. “If you’re not convinced this is a total mistake yet, I can keep talking. Whatever it takes to keep you here.”

  Delilah said nothing, just rolled her eyes.

  “Why do you want to keep me here?” Wren needed to hear their reasons. Not just for the ego stroke—though that was nice, she couldn’t deny it—but because she needed to hear that she was needed. The last few years she’d felt like she’d had no purpose, no meaning. She just worked her little jobs and went about her daily routine, to the point that it had become completely mundane.

  No one deserved mundane at the age of twenty-six. That was just so . . . pitiful.

  The only bright spot over the last few months had been her love-hate flirtation with Tate. And now with that turning into something more, something real, she was excited. Yes, maybe she was putting everything into a man and the possibility of a relationship, but she had a feeling it would be the right relationship.

  “Because we love you,” Delilah told her, her gaze downright pleading. “You’re our friend, Wren. You’re like family. If you choose to leave, then fine, but do so for the right reasons. Not because you think it’s the easy way out. Running away from your problems isn’t going to solve them.”

  Ouch. Delilah nailed that one right on the head.

  “And running away with Levi won’t solve anything,” Harper added with a shiver. “He’ll only give you more problems.”

  “You’re right,” Wren said firmly. “I totally agree with the both of you.”

  Harper blinked. “You do?”

  “Yep.” Wren nodded. “I’m sort of pissed that Levi would say that to you, Harper. I never honestly considered his offer.”

  “You didn’t?” Harper squeaked.

  Wren shook her head. “Nope.” She was mad Levi had told her friends she had though.

  “Oh, thank God.” Delilah seemed to wilt into the couch, her relief apparent.

  “So you’re not going to San Francisco to live with Levi?” Harper asked, earning a poke in the ribs from Delilah. She turned on her. “Hey, I was just double-checking.”

  “No.” Wren shook her head, smiling. “I’m so not running away with Levi.”

  “Good.” Harper practically preened. “I knew we could convince her, Dee. Didn’t I tell you so?”

  “Oh, I’d already made up my mind,” Wren added, her smile growing. “Besides, I have Tate now.”

  Her friends gaped at her, Harper finding her words first. “Um, what do you mean, you have Tate now?”

  Wren launched into what happened two nights ago between her and Tate—leaving out most of the supremely naughty parts—but they got the gist. By the time she was wrapping up her story, she was a babbling, blushing mess, and both Delilah and Harper were watching her with lovesick expressions on th
eir faces.

  “That is the sweetest thing ever,” Delilah said, clasping her hands together. She looked ready to swoon. “He actually told you that he wasn’t going to give up on you?”

  Wren nodded, still amazed he would say such a thing. “I know we haven’t known each other that long, but . . . ”

  “When you know, you know,” Harper said. “And it sounds like Tate . . . knows.”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions. It’s way too early in our relationship.” Wren frowned. “I don’t even know if I can call it a relationship.”

  “You’re living in his house,” Delilah pointed out. “And you’re having sex. Sounds like a relationship to me.”

  Oh God. Delilah was right. They were in a relationship.

  “It’s nothing serious,” Wren said, wincing the moment the words left her.

  “Are you serious right now?” Harper asked incredulously.

  Wren shrugged, feeling silly. Okay, maybe she was still feeling insecure. Everything between her and Tate was still so new. And she was still so unsure about—everything. She still had no home and nothing really to her name. Her entire life was up in the air, and she had no idea where it was all going to land, but she felt somehow secure, knowing that she had Tate in her life. Standing by her side. Keeping her steady, keeping her safe.

  Making her feel cared for.

  “We love that you and Tate are giving this a go. I mean, compared to Levi . . . ” Harper’s voice drifted, and she shot a guilty look in Delilah’s direction.

  “What?” Wren asked, staring at her friends. Hard. Like that could make them talk. “Spit out what you want to say.”

  “Levi is still just a silly little boy looking for someone to stroke his ego,” Harper explained, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, he’s created some app that made him a millionaire or whatever, but he still acts like a kid. He’s just an adolescent boy inside a man’s body who gets his rocks off by surrounding himself with people who constantly feed his ego.”