Page 50 of Making the Save

I wanted there to be marks. I wanted Wyatt Locke to mark me.

I arched against him, grinding myself into the impossibly hard length of his cock in his trunks. It was weird to even think that word. Cock. It sent a thrill through me. Illicit and hot.

Wouldn’t it be something if I could just crawl inside him? Bury myself deep in all that was Wyatt. His strength, his humor.

Or maybe he could bury himself in me.

Yes. That.

This is wanting. No, this is need.

I needed him. I was achy and empty and I desperately wanted him in a way I had never understood before.

There had been messing around in the back of a truck with my high school boyfriend, before my career exploded. But that had been all about uncertainty and fear and no. My mother’s voice in my head warning what would happen to me if I got pregnant like she did at my age.

After I got famous, there were some grabby producers and leering executives. But I’d been lucky enough, thanks to Beatrice, to never be victimized by any of them. Then there was my crush on Axil, which had been entirely one sided and unfulfilling.

Thiswas different.Thismade me understand why women could lose their heads over a guy. I knew we weren’t supposed to be doing this. I was the one who had made the rules, after all.

But I wanted him.

Too complicated,my brain shouted.

Please make this ache go away Wyatt,my body cried out.

Thankfully, Wyatt pulled away first. But I didn’t make it easy on him. I was brushing my sensitive breasts against his furred chest, trying to ease the ache of my hard nipples.

“Hold on baby, not so they can see.”

His words barely registered. I only knew he was turning us and taking us deeper out into the water, so we were submerged up to our shoulders.

His hand slid up under the wet material of the top of my suit, until his fingers found my puckered nipple and began to pull on it.

“Yes, please, Wyatt. More.” I moaned in his ear. So consumed with lust, it didn’t matter if we were being watched, it didn’t matter if he was faking all of it, because I was faking none of it and it felt so damn good.

In the last few years there’d been times when I thought maybe I was just dead inside. All the want, need and desire that I sang about, had been taken from me. Or maybe it had never been there.

Only now, that’s all I was.

I had no brain. No thoughts. I was like a mermaid in the water trying to tempt Wyatt into abandoning ship and joining me under the sea.

“Babe, I need you to look at me.”

I shook my head. I didn’t want to open my eyes. I didn’t want any of this to go away.

“Syd, now.”

Blinking, I opened my eyes and met his gaze. His eyes were so dark and fierce. His cheeks red over his beard. He looked like he was working hard. He looked like he was in pain.

“We need to stop.” He said it even as his hand continued to cup my bare breast under the water. As his thumb still brushed against my nipple, back and forth.

“Unh.” I didn’t even know what it meant. Stop? Was he insane? How could we stop when it felt so good? It felt like we were just on the edge of something incredible.

“I know, sweetheart, I’m hard as fuck too. There is nothing I would love to do more than make you come right now, but not in front of an audience.”

The word audience was like a cold shower.

I twisted my head to look over my shoulder. They were still there, only a handful of them, but we had given them a good show.