Bet on Me (10 page)

Tatiana grinned. “Consider it a present.”

“Even better. I like free.” Akira donned the piece and held it up to the light, admiring it. “Call me if you want to play again. Now go on. Remy’s only in town for the rest of the night. Gotta make the most of it.”

“She’s a character,” Wyatt remarked as they wound their way through the club. He had to pitch his voice higher to be heard over the music. The place was beginning to get crowded.

Tatiana’s shoulder brushed against a stranger’s. The gleeful smile she shot Wyatt was easy to interpret and lightened the heaviness in his heart.
This guy didn’t know what we were doing right upstairs.
“Are you complaining my friends aren’t more boring?” she said aloud.

“Not at all.”

They spilled out of the club, both of them inhaling the cool night air. “It’s not like I had to search far and wide for deviance. It seems to come to me.” She eyed him. “Like you.”

“Like me.”

They reached the limo, and Tatiana slid inside. Wyatt crowded her in, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her tousled hair. “Tired?”

“Exhausted. But I’ll never forget it,” she said simply.

“Me neither.” He swallowed, words rising up in his throat, the need to pour out his worries great. Damn Akira. He had been doing so well savoring his time with Tatiana, living in the moment. “Hey.”

She peered up at him, her eyes limpid green pools.
Go home. Take the rest of the night. Deal with this tomorrow.
“Mind if we stop and grab a burger? You didn’t think to feed me before our big adventure.”

She yawned, loudly. “Look, I could either arrange an orgy or make you a sandwich. I’m not superwoman.”

Wyatt prodded her into the shower when they got home, though all she wanted to do was stretch out and go to sleep. Lazy, she leaned against the shower wall and let him wash come and sweat off her body, watching him from beneath half-lidded eyes.

He opened a tube he’d brought in with him and smeared cream on his fingers. She hissed and stood on her toes when he brought his hand to her pussy. “Poor baby,” he crooned. “Are you sore?”

“Yes.”

He nipped her pouting lip, his fingers going deeper, soothing her inflamed tissues with the salve. “This might help.”

“Do you seriously stay prepared for the off chance that you would wreck my pussy?”

“It’s hardly an ‘off chance’. More like a certainty.”

She tipped her head back and moaned as Wyatt found and manipulated her G-spot, under the guise of treatment. His body kept the water from hitting her, but the steam kept her warm. “Wyatt, I can’t.”

He brought his fingers out, smeared more ointment on them, and returned to her pussy, brushing his slick fingers over her abused clit. “I know. I’m just trying to take care of you. I can’t help it if this gets you hot.”

Please. That faux-innocence wasn’t fooling anybody. She took the tube from him and squirted a generous amount on her palm before bringing it to his cock. “Are you feeling rubbed raw, too?”

“Actually, now that you mention it…”

The shower was filled with the sound of their escalating breaths and sighs as they touched each other. Wyatt leaned one hand against the wall and curled it into a fist as she measured him in slow, steady strokes, stopping to put more ointment on both of their hands.

He rubbed her clit, and she gasped. “Need it harder.”

He
tsk
ed. “I can’t give it to you any harder, sweetheart.” He surrounded her clit with two fingers and squeezed, working it gently. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Oh yeah? Two could play this game. She glanced up at him and released his cock. “I don’t want to hurt you either.”

He stretched up to yank out the detachable showerhead. “Here. Ride this.”

The first blast made her squeal, but he dialed it back so the stream changed to a pulsing massage on her well-used flesh. She clasped his wrist and directed the stream of water to where she needed it. “You creative bastard,” she said.

His chuckle was lost in her loud moan as she came.

He shut the water off and scooped her up, toweling them both off before carrying her into the bedroom. He dropped her on the bed and followed down on top of her, covering her up.

He sat up, straddling her, and grabbed the lube from their bedside table. He poured a handful onto his cock and stroked himself with long, slow pulls before dribbling the slick oil on her inner thighs.

He moved them both onto their sides so they were facing each other and fit his cock between her legs. “Open up,” he murmured. “Give me something hot to fuck.”

His cock glided between her legs easily, and he worked it hard and fast. Even then, he was considerate, avoiding everything but the slightest brushes against her tired pussy.

“You’re amazing,” she said dreamily. “Did you know that?”

He didn’t stop, but his hand clenched on her hip. He stroked her flank and kept thrusting. “Am I?”

“Mm, yes.”

He let out a shaky breath and pressed down on her upper leg. “Tighter.”

She clenched her inner thighs, and he groaned. “Jesus, Tatiana. You’re the amazing one.”

“No.” She shook her head as much as her limited range of motion would allow. “You give me exactly what I want and need. You have no idea how rare that is. I do.” She stroked her fingers over his lips and face. There were wrinkles and lines on him that hadn’t been there when he was eighteen.
 

That was okay. She was different too. Somehow their differences were meshing together.

She pressed a kiss to his lips, and it was sweet and perfect. The perfect moment. “I love you,” she said clearly.

He shuddered—this big, strong man shuddered in her grip as if he were helpless. He thrust twice more, and Tatiana felt his warm come on her flesh.

He let out a long breath. “Say it again.”

“I love—”

His kiss cut her off. He rolled her onto her back and thrust his tongue in her mouth, pulling back for a brief second. “Again,” he demanded.

“I—
mmph
.” She was laughing when she came up for air. “You’re not letting me talk.”

“I can’t help it.” He kissed her again. “You shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t what? Love you?” She snorted, and then ruined her indignation with a yawn. “Stop me.”

He rested his forehead against hers. She stroked her hand down his back, pausing when she felt the fine tremor running through his muscles. “Wyatt?”

He pushed away from her and rolled to sit on the side of the bed. His hands cradled his head, his back bowed. Chilled, Tatiana drew the comforter around her. “Hey. Look, you don’t have to worry about saying it back or anything. I mean, I get that it’s kind of fast, and I’m not putting any pressure—”

“No,” he said harshly. “It’s not that.”

She sat up. “Um. Okay.” Nibbling her lower lip, she stared at his rigid back. His first reaction to her big revelation had been way more fun.
More kissies please?

“Tatiana.”

“Yes?”

“I think I have a sister.”

Tatiana blinked, not certain she’d heard correctly. “What?” The muscles in Wyatt’s back bunched, and he shot to his feet, pacing to the bureau. He yanked out a pair of boxer briefs and pulled them on. The tension she had so creatively worked out of him had returned, invading his limbs, a deep frown creasing his forehead.

She’d thought it was work stress. Easily remedied with a blowjob and group sex.

Maybe not.

“Did you say you think you have a sister?”

“Yes.”

Baffled, she stared at him. “Since when do you have a sister?”

He ran his hands through his hair. “Since approximately nine years ago.”

Her mouth was agape, but there was nothing she could do about that. “Uh. I think you may need to break this down for me. I don’t think I’m following.”

He returned to sink down on the side of the bed, facing away from her, his arms resting on his legs. “A little girl came to my office this morning. She claims to be my father’s daughter from a second marriage.”

The words falling from his lips were precise and clipped. This morning? All of this had happened this morning? He’d waited over twelve hours to deliver this major, life-altering news?

How dare he shut me out—

Whoa. Back up.

Nope.

Tatiana punched her inner teen girl into submission. No. This wasn’t about her. She didn’t get to make it about her.

Yes, Wyatt hadn’t come running to her, and that did sting, especially since they had already talked about him being more open and not keeping things from her.

Yet, it wasn’t like he’d gone about his day blithely. She thought of the way he’d kissed her when he’d first seen her earlier in the evening, the desperation and need in his touch.

Why hadn’t he told her? That was the important question. She examined his body, his fists clenched tight.
 

Because it hurt him.

The girl hadn’t just claimed to be his sister. She’d claimed to be a living, breathing connection to his father. The father Wyatt barely spoke about, after years of estrangement. Oh, her poor Wyatt.

It hurt him, and Wyatt wasn’t good with embracing emotional pain. This was a man who handled his biggest emotions—fear, anger, sadness—by bundling them up and stuffing them in a subzero freezer.

He was braced now. Waiting for her to freak out or shriek. As if she wasn’t a mature, intelligent woman.

She tugged the blanket tighter around her and scooted closer until she could layer herself over his back. “If you’d rather not talk about it,” she said quietly. “We don’t have to.”

His shoulders tensed. “You’re not mad?”

“No.” She kissed his neck, right at his hairline. “We’re in a relationship, not a mind meld. You’re allowed your thoughts.”

“I didn’t tell you when I found out. You should be furious.”

Anything she wanted to say—
you didn’t have to, you had your reasons
—sounded snarky, though she meant the words sincerely. “This isn’t like what we talked about before, about us communicating when we’re angry,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I get that family carries a whole different set of baggage. Talk to me if it’ll make you feel better. If you need some time, that’s okay, too.”

He turned so swiftly, she wasn’t prepared for the weight of his body. He pushed her down on the bed and came up over her, holding himself on his elbows, his face very close to hers. “I…” he exhaled harshly, sounding frustrated.

Her heart gave a little pang. “Can I snuggle you right now?”

He jerked his head back and eyed her. “
Snuggle
me?”

“Sure.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down so his head was pressed against her chest. “Snuggling is crucial when we get news that throws us for a loop. I’ll teach you. Here. Put your arm here, and then move your head like this. Ah, perfect.”

They lay like that for a long while, Tatiana running her fingers through his short hair and staring into the darkness of the room.

“You sure you’re not mad?” The words were muffled against her breasts.

She blinked rapidly. Did he think she was a monster?

No, that wasn’t fair. Ten years ago—hell, maybe even a year ago—she might have happily lit into him for failing to tell her about this right away. Her kneejerk reaction when he’d just spilled the beans proved she wasn’t immune to that kind of thinking.

She grimaced. She wasn’t perfect, but she’d be damned if she acted like an immature twit anymore.

“I’ll confess something,” she said, struggling to find something to say, to open the conversation. “After our first night together, I went to see Ron, and I told him I would give him the money to reimburse you, but to continue paying you in installments so you wouldn’t know.”

He had stilled in her arms, but she was certain he was listening. Wyatt had been adamant about not taking her money to make up for Ron’s embezzlement, even ripping up the check she had offered him. “It took Ron about a week to realize you and I might be headed somewhere serious. He told me he changed his mind and he paid me back what I’d given to him. I was annoyed with him, until I realized he basically saved us a massive argument.” She lightly tugged his hair. “See? I kept something from you, too. I’m sorry about that. But family things can be weird.”

He turned his head, though he didn’t respond. His breathing grew deeper. So deep, she was startled when he spoke. “Do you remember how I said I never searched for you after we broke up because I didn't think I would be able to keep myself from showing up at your door?” he asked.

She held her breath. “Yes.”

“I didn't search for my father after I left because I didn't care what happened to him.”

The lack of emotion in his voice made her ache.

They didn’t talk about his dad. What she knew about Wyatt between the time his mother had died and the time he had moved out was superficial.

As an adoptee, she knew better than most that love often transcended biology. She felt no emotion for her birth mother, beyond disappointment and an occasional wistfulness. Wyatt hated his father. And from what Tatiana had been able to piece together, that hate was justified.

“I pictured him showing up here, though. About what I’d say to him.”

“What would you have said to him?”

His smile was grim. “Nothing I could say to a kid.”

“You know, you’re in luck.” She attempted a lighter tone. “The population of people who meet long-lost siblings is pretty small, and you’ve got someone with experience in your bed.”

“This isn’t like when you met Ron.”

“You’re right. We were both adults, for one, and I didn’t know enough about my birth mother to hate her. Maybe I went through some of the stuff you’re feeling, though? The worry that it’s not real. Wondering whether they’ll like you, or you’ll like them. Nervousness at the thought of a stranger being somehow connected to you.”

He exhaled, his breath stirring the lock of hair that had fallen over her nipple. “I told Jared to find out everything he could about her. Make sure she is who she says she is.”