Page 43 of Man of Honor
“Would you believe me?” I asked, searching his eyes in the darkness.
He slid his hands up both sides of my neck, cupping my head and brushing his thumbs along the edge of my jaw.“I’ve always believed you, sweetheart.I’ve seen the best of you, and I’ve seen the worst, but I’ve never seen you be anything less than beautifully, fearlessly honest.Even when it cost you everything.”
I winced and dropped my eyes.
The night Ben killed my father was never far away.I remembered the flashlights sweeping the ground, searching forthe gun Ben swore my father had pulled—a gun they never found.I'd been so tempted to lie, to say I'd seen it, but it was too dark, and I'd been too far away when Ben snapped my father's neck.I told the truth—and he paid the price.
I took a deep breath, shoving the memory back where it belonged.“I’m clean,” I said, meeting his eyes.“I get checked regularly, and I haven’t touched anyone in months.”
“Except me.” His eyes were blazing.
I smiled. “Except you.”
He nodded, looking satisfied, and then his voice dropped.“Turn around,” he growled. “Bend over the hood.”
He didn’t need to ask twice. I spun around, bracing myself on arms that felt ready to give out any second, and he chuckled.
“Lower.” His voice was amused but calm, and that calmness slowed me down.I bent at the waist and propped myself on my forearms, concentrating on controlling my breathing.Cold metal pressed against my stomach, ripping a shiver out of me.
Wyatt skimmed a hand down my bare back, soothing my goosebumps and leaving a trail of heat in his wake.In one swift motion, he hooked his fingers into my waistband and tugged down my jeans and boxers.I gasped, glancing down just in time to watch my cock spring free, hard and eager between my thighs.It took all my self-control not to reach down and cup myself.Instead, I gripped the hood with sweaty hands—waiting.
He grabbed my hips, steadying me, and demanded, “Tell me you trust me.”
“I do.” I answered without a second thought.“Always have.”
“Even that night?”
I knew what he meant: the night he’d shoved me away and broken my heart.It didn't matter. The answer was the same."Always."
A pleased sound rumbled through his chest.“Good,” he said, satisfied, and then his hand came down with a stinging slap across my bare ass.
I jerked and hissed. Heat bloomed across my skin, spreading straight to my groin, and my cock pulsed in response.Without thinking, I widened my stance and lifted my hips in invitation.Wyatt didn’t miss a beat. He smacked the other cheek, harder this time.
A rough groan tore out of my throat before I could stop it.
“Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” His voice was rough, feeding off the same thrill I was.Then he dropped a quick series of slaps that echoed above the sound of our shredded breathing.
“Y-yeah,” I moaned, barely recognizing the thin, needy, breathless voice that came out of me.
Damn. I'd never been afraid of taking a hit—it was as familiar as breathing.But with Wyatt, it wasn't about bracing for pain or steeling myself to be tough.He stripped away all traces of violence from each slap, leaving only trust.Even now, with my ass burning and his breath heavy behind me, I didn't so much as tense.Every touch was deliberate and careful, steering clear of anywhere I'd once carried a bruise, like he remembered where each had been.Wyatt didn't just know how to hit; he knew how to heal.For the very first time, I let myself feel safe enough to let go.
“You want me to call you a bad boy?” Wyatt teased, filling his hands with my ass, scraping his callused palms over my heated skin.
“Way to break the mood,” I choked, strangling on a laugh.
The tip of his tongue traced a wet line up the length of my spine, and I jerked in surprise.“What do you want me to call you?” he whispered.
“Yours.”
Wyatt was so silent that I began to spiral.Maybe I'd gone too far. Too much, too soon.We’d barely even started, for Christ’s sake, and I sounded like I wanted to start picking out rings.I took a breath to speak, but Wyatt covered my mouth with his hand, stopping the words before they even formed.
“Don’t take it back. Let yourself feel it.Let yourself be mine.” He kissed the base of my neck."Now, spread your legs."
I obeyed without question. The thrill of leaving myself completely exposed was terrifying—but wildly hot.
“Fuck, look at that.” His voice was hushed, and I don’t think he was talking to me.He sounded like he was talking to himself, and he sounded awed.
I heard the pop of him uncapping the lube and glanced over my shoulder, watching him slick two fingers until they glistened in the moonlight.He cradled my hips in his free hand, holding me steady while his slippery fingers brushed against my exposed entrance.