Page 124 of Making the Save

God, it was so hot. I was bucking against him, squirming against him.

“Beg,” he said. “I want you to beg me.”

“Please,” I groaned, so far past the point of pride. “Please make me come. Please. You do it so good.”

He clasped my throat in his hand, his mouth against my ear. “That’s right, Syd,” he said, his voice that perfect bass note. I hummed in my throat to harmonize. “No one is going to make you come like I will. No one will play these game you like. No one will fuck you or love you like me.”

My heart stopped. Did he say love?

But then he brushed his thumb over my clit again and I was gone, bucking and screaming with my head back. Trying to break his grip on my wrists, but not able to. I couldn’t get away. Not until he let me go.

The pleasure rolled through me and left me devastated.

“Wyatt,” I breathed. Chanted. Like an oath.

He pushed me down flat on the bed, pressed my hands over my head and started driving deep and hard into me. The pressure was intense and I don’t know if it prolonged my orgasm or triggered another one, but I was utterly lost to it. All of his force and energy absorbed by my body. Transformed by my body.

I felt like I would come forever.

“Fuck,” he shouted. “I’m coming so hard. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Syd!”

He collapsed over me, but made sure to keep the bulk of his weight off my back, and for a long time all we did was breathe. Our hearts beat. Our lungs worked and the moment was perfect. And maybe I was about to ruin it, but I wasn’t playing games anymore. I wasn’t the good girl waiting for someone to tell me what to do. I handled my own shit.

“You love me?” I asked.

He rolled over onto his side and I turned my head so I was facing him. Unable to stop myself, I stroked my hand over his beard.

“I love you,” he said. “I’m pretty sure I have loved you since you almost caved that asshole’s head in with a driver in Vegas.”

I narrowed my eyes, unsure if I could believe any of this. “But you’re signing the divorce papers, aren’t you?”

He said this was breakup sex. I wasn’t the wife he wanted. Hockey would start in a few weeks and I’m not WAG material.

Those were all true. But what was also true was that he loved me.

“Yeah. I am,” he said, and he heaved himself off the bed. He left the room and a few seconds later Predator’s crate was open and five pounds of fur and bad manners came barreling down the hallway and up into my bed.

He got very invested in the smell between my legs and I scooped him up in my arms.

Wyatt came back into the bedroom, pulling his t-shirt over his head. His shorts were on and so were his flip flops. He was leaving.

He was leaving.

“So this is…goodbye?”

Obviously, Syd. Duh.

“Goodbye to that Wyatt and Syd,” he said. “Goodbye to the idiots who got drunk in Vegas and ended up married. Goodbye to the bullshit of trying to keep it secret and thinking we had to hold ourselves accountable to anyone other than ourselves. Goodbye to the rules.”

“That’s a lot of goodbying,” I pointed out.

He walked over to the bed and cupped my chin in his hand, forcing me to look up at him. It was so hard, because he was so handsome sometimes I forgot to breathe.

“Goodbye to the asshole who said you would be the last woman on the planet I would marry. That guy didn’t know shit about shit.”

“Goodbye, asshole,” I muttered.

He laughed and stroked my cheek with his fingers. “Okay. I’m going to head back home. I’m going to sign those papers and that Wyatt and Syd will be officially done.”