Temptation and Attraction

15: Wyatt

"What?" I answer the phone rudely.

Jay better have a damn good reason to have interrupted me and Melinda. She ran off to the bathroom right when my phone rang, and I have never been left more unsatisfied.

She's doing something to me. And I don't know if I like it or not.

Fuck. Who am I kidding? Of course, I like it. That woman could shred me to pieces and I'd still like it. I might actually even love it.

"Dude, I called you a million times last night, where did you go?" he interrogates, audibly concerned.

"I'm just... I was drunk out of my mind and I must have called an Uber to bring me to... someone's house," I explain, not lying but keeping the whole truth hidden.

"Ohhh, I get it. Just let me know when you and Melinda are done with whatever and heading back," he states nonchalantly, and I'm incredulous.

"Wait, what? How-How did you?" I stutter, still in disbelief.

"You really think I didn't notice how upset you were when she left? Dude, you didn't even bang her and you got attached. I never knew you had it in you," he pokes fun, "But I also figured it was only a matter of time before you two fucked."

He chuckles and I roll my eyes, "Okay, one, I was not upset when she left. If anything, I was relieved. And two, we haven't fucked or anything yet. We would have if you didn't decide to fucking call me, though."

"Oh, shit!! No way!!" he yells over the phone, and I have to take the cell away from my ear so I don't lose hearing.

"Good bye, Jay," I say flatly, and I hang up before he can reply.

While Melinda is in the shower, I decide to actually do something nice for her and make breakfast. I walk downstairs and into the kitchen, and I take some eggs and vegetables out of the fridge. I make a killer omelette.

After a couple minutes of prepping the vegetables, a fluffy, content-looking cat weaves through my legs, purring as it wraps around my ankles.

It makes total sense that she has a cat.

I take a minute to lean down and smooth over the top of the cat's head, scratching the area under its chin that all cats appreciate.

Once I remember that I'm supposed to be cooking food, I reluctantly pull away from the adorable cat at my feet and wash my hands before returning to the vegetables.

I finish cooking and setting the food on the counter right as Melinda walks down the stairs.

I swear to God, that woman knows exactly. what she's doing to me.

She walks in, wearing simple jeans and a white baby-tee, but she is obviously not wearing a bra, given that her nipples are poking through her shirt. I can't look at her any longer or else I might act irrationally. It's like I can't control myself around her- like l'm suddenly a teenage virgin again.

"Breakfast?" she asks when she smells the omelettes, as if she's in disbelief that I can be nice.

I kind of don't blame her, I guess.

"Yeah, for me and the cat," I tease.

"So you met Oliver, hm?" she guesses, sitting down at the island in her kitchen where l'm starting to eat.

"Ahh, Oliver," I say, acknowledging the name of the adorable kitten I was just fawning over, "I think he likes me more than you already."

She laughs, and I bask in the beautiful sound.

"Well, too bad you have to say goodbye to him for good," she states, and my brows furrow, "No more drunk visits, Wyatt."

Oh. If I could decide what happens when I get drunk, I would save myself a lot of trouble. Unfortunately, I can't.

"No promises, Sugar. Drunk me has a brain of his own. Guess he just goes wherever he wants," I shrug.

"Then maybe you should stop getting drunk," she say in a 'duh' tone.

"What's the fun in that?" I smirk.

She rolls her eyes and quickly eats her food before walking away into her living room. I place the dirty plates in the sink and follow her into the other room. I sit down on one of the chairs, watching as she folds a pile of laundry.

Then, a drunk memory popped into my head. One I had forgotten, one that has to do with a hot pink, lacey G-string...

"Staring is rude, you know," she says, pulling me out of my memory.

"Being bitchy is also rude, but for you, Sugar, I'll let it slide," I tease, a smirk dancing on my lips again.

She turns to look at me, sending me a glare, before returning to folding her laundry.

"So, what did you do with my favorite lacey, pink panties?" I play with her, absolutely loving every moment of it when her face turns bright red.

"None of your business, perv," she snaps back, trying to hide her blushing face from me.

I stand up and walk over to her so that l'm standing behind her, facing her back. I get close enough to her so that my chest barely touches her back, and I slowly brush one of my hands down her arm. My other hand tucks a piece of hair behind her ear as my head ducks down into her neck. I hear her breath hitch as my lips make light contact with her skin.

"I'm not a perv, Sugar, I just can't get you out of my head," I say huskily into her neck, and I smile when she subconsciously tilts her head to the side, inviting me to her neck.

"Well, that sounds like your own problem, little guy," she mocks back, to which I chuckle darkly.

"I thought we established this morning that I'm not the 'little guy' you think l am ," I whisper, my face still tucked into her neck, teasing her

as my lips brush against her soft skin.

"I don't recall," she lies, earning another deep laugh from me. I spin her around so that our eyes meet, and I keep her body close to mine

by holding her waist.

"Well, you know what they say, Sugar: seeing is believing," I drawl, to which she lets out a gasp and blushes even more.

"Then I guess you only have one option..." she says quietly, not breaking eye contact with me.

Immediately, I crash my lips onto hers. She returns the kiss and wraps her arms up around my neck as mine find their way to her waist,

pulling her further into my chest.

The kiss is passionate, intense, and hungry. I smooth my tongue across her lip, asking for entry, to which she slightly parts her lips, letting me in. Our tongues dance as I drown in her sweet, enchanting taste.

I pick her up, placing my hands underneath her thighs, and she wraps her legs around my waist. I groan at even the smallest amount of friction, and I eagerly walk back into the kitchen, keeping her in my arms and close to my body.

I set her down on the kitchen counter, standing between her legs, which haven't unwrapped from around my waist. My hands remain on her thighs, but one travels to her bottom, grabbing it firmly in my palm, to which she whimpers softly.

Fuck, here we go...