Desired by Him (Wanted Series #5)

  Desired by Him

  Hazel Kelly

  © 2015 Hazel Kelly

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, copied, or stored in any form or by any means without permission of the author. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  All characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, brands, organizations, places, and situations is purely coincidental.

  “Ever since I met you, I have dreamed even before my sleep.”

  - Daniel Saint

  Chapter 1: Wyatt

  I loved seeing her in my studio.

  It was my favorite place, and the novelty of having such a beautiful woman there was thrilling.

  And while I knew it was an unusual structure to have in my backyard, I hoped she could see it the way I did because the space was so personal to me. Having seen it, she couldn’t have known me any better if she sliced me open.

  “How much time do you spend in here?” she asked, dragging her fingertips over a panel of buttons without shifting a single one.

  I put my hands in my pockets and rocked back on my heels. “It depends on what I’m working on.”

  She turned to look at me and lifted her eyebrows. “And what are you working on lately?”

  “I actually just sent a song to my agent.”

  “Oh yeah?” she asked, sitting in the chair beside the panel and sliding across the wooden floor. “What about?”

  “Love.”

  One corner of her mouth curled up. “So points for originality anyway.”

  “It’s for a movie.”

  “Does that mean the prompt wasn’t really up to you?”

  “Yeah,” I said, walking over to the long table at the back of the room and raising myself up on it. “But that’s okay because otherwise I’d probably be working on an album full of songs about being a single dad looking for love, and I don’t think the market’s great for that.”

  She nodded and scooted back towards the center of the room, looking at the section full of instruments on the other side of the glass.

  I watched the muscles in her legs move as she crossed the floor.

  “And is that what you’re doing?” she asked, wrapping her fingers around the armrests.

  “Sorry?”

  “Are you looking for love?”

  “Well, I’m not trying to avoid it,” I said. “Though I suppose I was for a while.”

  “So what changed?”

  “I met you for one.”

  “And how did that change anything?”

  I shrugged. “I realized that women weren’t just for sex.”

  Her eyes grew wide.

  “That was a joke.”

  “I should think so.” She looked down at her knees. “But way to put the pressure on, eh?”

  “It’s not like that,” I said. “The last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable.”

  She dragged her fingers along the black countertop. “So what is it that you want to do?”

  “I just want to be more open minded.”

  “Are you not normally?”

  “Not to relationships,” I said. “I figure I have a pretty good life as it is. I don’t need to complicate it- or Sophie’s- with dating.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “But then when I least expected it, this bombshell walked into my life, and I knew instantly that I’d be a fool not to see if she found me equally irresistible.”

  She leaned back in her chair. “And what if she does?”

  I took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I guess I haven’t really thought that far ahead.”

  She nodded. “So what happens if your agent likes your song?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “But if the producers of the film I wrote it for like it, then it would be a big win both financially and professionally.”

  “And if they don’t like it?”

  “Back to the studio, I guess.”

  “So you win either way?”

  “I suppose,” I said, wrapping my fingers around the edge of the table beneath me. “So what’s the verdict?”

  She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean is there some slick hot shot in the city you’re thinking about right now or do I have a chance?”

  “When you say chance-”

  “I mean is there someone else?”

  “Don’t you think you’re asking a bit late?” she asked. “Don’t you think you should’ve asked me that at the bar the first night we went out?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Cause I didn’t give a fuck then,” I said. “I’d only just met you. As far as I was concerned, the onus was on you to stop things before they went too far.”

  “And if I hadn’t stopped them, but there had been someone else?”

  “Then I suspect we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

  She pursed her lips.

  “Or do I owe someone an apology?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “There’s no one pining for me in the city right now.”

  “I’m sure that’s a lie whether you know it or not, but I guess what really concerns me is whether there’s someone you’re pining for.”

  “There isn’t.”

  “Because you don’t give people a chance or because you’re married to your job?”

  She shrugged. “Probably both.”

  My body ached at the thought of her sleeping alone. “Are you even emotionally available?”

  She craned her head back. “How can you ask that so matter of factly?”

  “How am I supposed to ask?”

  “You’re not.”

  “I get what you’re saying,” I said. “And I hope you don’t mind my being blunt, but my kid’s involved so I have to know.”

  “Know what?”

  “Whether this is just about sex for you or whether you’re open to it being more than that?”

  “What makes you think I’m not open to it being more?”

  “Are you?”

  She swallowed. “I don’t know.”

  “Well that makes two of us.”

  She stood up and stepped in front of me. “I’m sorry I can’t be more honest with you, but if I told you I knew what I wanted or how I feel, it would be a lie.”

  I nodded.

  “But I do know one thing.”

  I was in the perfect position to pull her dress off over her head, but I decided to suppress the urge in light of our serious conversation. “And what’s that?”

  She set her hands on my knees and leaned against the high table between them. “I like you, Wyatt. I think you’re a good man with a very intriguing skill set, and I think you deserve to be with someone incredible.”

  “Okay.”

  “I just don’t know if I’m the kind of incredible you’re looking for.”

  “Why the doubts?”

  “Because I’m selfish, ambitious to a fault, and I’m not the most confident around kids.”

  “You were great with Sophie earlier.”

  She let her head fall to the side, a red cascade of hair following a moment later. “I just can’t promise you anything right now, especially since I understand the stakes are higher for you than other guys.”

  I laid my hands over hers. “Thanks for your honesty.”

  “I know I haven’t exactly told you what you want to hear.”

  “That’s okay,” I said. “I can live with that. I spent years surrounded by people whose job it was to tell me what I wanted to hear. It was exhausting. That’s probably why I spend so much time with my family these days. Cause I have trust issues.”

  She nod
ded. “I understand. Really.”

  “I suppose you do,” I said. “If I recall, you were convinced I was going to murder you when we first met.”

  “You did have that look about you.”

  I squinted at her. “You mean killer good looks?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I also don’t want to mislead you by pretending it’s not about the sex.”

  I smiled. “You’re gagging for it again, aren’t you?”

  She pushed my chest. “I am not gagging for it.”

  “But you agree we’re good together?”

  “I agree that you’re good, and I appreciate that.”

  I clenched my jaw and exhaled through my nose. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

  Chapter 2: Addison

  “Come on,” he said, lifting his chin. “Let me show you where the magic happens.”

  I took a step back. “Talk about an offer I can’t refuse…”

  I looked away as he slid off the table so I wouldn’t be tempted to stare at the bulge in his pants, busying myself instead with admiring the controls some more.

  And I have to admit, something about being in a room with so much expensive equipment excited me. I mean, I knew some guys collected cars or motorcycles or sports memorabilia, but of all the obsessions a guy could have, Wyatt’s intrigued me.

  He flicked a switch at the end of the panel and a red lightbulb turned on in the corner of the room.

  “Are we recording now?” I whispered, pointing at the light.

  “You don’t have to whisper. The recording happens in the other room, not this one,” he said, pointing through the glass wall.

  “Right,” I said, taking a few steps towards him. “I knew that.”

  He smiled and pulled the connecting door open.

  I furrowed my brow. “Can I ask why we’re recording right now?”

  “Because no one will bother us if we’re recording,” he said. “My family is really well trained and has a lot of respect for what I do.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Is that so?”

  He shrugged. “Either that or they like it when I shut myself away in here.”

  I walked down a few stairs to reach the light colored wood floor and looked around. “And how would they know?” I asked, admiring the clusters of different instruments, chairs, and amps that surrounded the prettiest thing in the room: a piano like a teacher would have, with a hazelnut brown finish and a flat back.

  “There’s a red light on the back of the building that’s visible from the yard,” he said, pointing to the far wall. “So people in the house know if I’m in here.”

  “So what we’re really doing is hiding in plain sight right now?”

  He smiled and closed the glass door behind him before walking down the steps. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “I’m not hiding anything.”

  I turned back towards the piano and stepped up to it.

  “You’re welcome to play it,” he said, walking up beside me.

  I swallowed as he raised the cover and slid it back, revealing the pearly white keys.

  “Go ahead,” he said, pulling the stool out.

  I shook my head. “I couldn’t. I only ever played a little keyboard. I wouldn’t know where to-”

  “Middle C,” he said, pulling a black bean bag chair out from beside a row of guitars.

  I ran my fingers over the keys, but I didn’t put any pressure on them until I found middle C. Then I sank my finger down one time.

  A beautiful clear tone came out of the piano.

  “It’s nice,” I said, looking over my shoulder at Wyatt who was already kicked back in his chair of choice.

  “You should hear it when you play two notes at once.”

  I smiled, looked down at the piano bench, and thought of the Sullivan family. I lived with them all of second grade and most of the summer before third. That whole time, I used to sit in while their real kids took piano lessons twice a week. I used to be so disappointed if a lesson got canceled, much more disappointed than either of the Sullivan kids.

  I blinked the memory out of my head, sat down on the bench, and took a deep breath.

  Then I pressed middle C again.

  After the note faded, I laid my hands in position, wishing I could practice once without sound.

  But I began to play anyway.

  I started slowly at first, letting the silence between each note nearly overwhelm it before I pressed the next one. But soon, I was playing as enthusiastically as I used to on my battery powered keyboard.

  And while no one would’ve known what a big deal it was for me to play on a real piano, they also never would’ve known that I’d never had a lesson. And the fact that I wasn’t embarrassing myself spurred me on, until I’d played the whole thing from start to finish.

  When I reached the end, I let my hands drop against the bench, but I kept my eyes on the keys, kept playing them in my mind, kept hearing the music, all the while feeling so far away I was almost untouchable.

  “What the heck was that?”

  I looked over my shoulder to see Wyatt leaning forward in the beanbag chair. “Sorry?”

  “What is that from?”

  I shrugged. “I made it up.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You made it up?”

  I nodded. “It’s an Addison original. I used to play it to get warmed up before I would practice other stuff, most of which I don’t think I could remember to save my life right now.”

  “It was great.”

  “You really think so?”

  He nodded. “Absolutely. The melody and the harmony didn’t quite fit together-”

  “Well, I’ve never had a lesson so-”

  “No- in a good way.”

  “Oh.”

  “It was refreshing. It was original.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Play something else,” he said, sitting back and putting his hands behind his head.

  “Maybe later,” I said, feeling drained from the excitement. I spun my bent legs around the end of the bench and faced him. “Why don’t you play something?”

  He looked at the row of guitars next to him. Then he looked at me and raised his eyebrows. “How about I play you again?”

  I felt my stomach drop just before his family, the red light, the tire swing, and my beer sweating next to the control panel upstairs all flashed through my mind. Then I blinked and he was in front of me.

  “Check out my bean bag chair,” he said, tilting his head towards it.

  I pressed my big toes together and raised my eyebrows. “Check out your beanbag chair?”

  He smiled. “You’re going to love it.”

  I looked between his extended hand and the chair he’d just gotten out of. It had a high back and looked comfortable, but something about the look in Wyatt’s eyes made me think I wasn’t going to do anything but squirm once I got in it.

  “Trust me.”

  I tried not to think about what was behind his zipper, but suddenly I couldn’t think of anything else. I took his hand and stood up. A moment later, I was sitting in the beanbag chair with him standing over me.

  I was terrified that he was just going to whip it out. And with the lights in the studio shining over him, he was already intimidating enough as a giant shadow that didn’t look ready to impale me. But I could see his face better when he dropped to his knees, and while he looked determined, I wasn’t afraid.

  He put his big hands on my knees and pushed them apart.

  I felt my breath catch in my throat.

  He slid his flat palms up my inner thighs.

  I froze when I felt his fingertips along the seam of my underwear.

  “I should’ve gotten rid of these when I had the chance,” he said, fingering the stitching over my wet slit.

  I couldn’t breathe with his hands there, so close to where I needed them.

  His hands followed along the fabric to the outside of my thighs and curled around my panties.
<
br />   I lifted my hips so he could pull them off.

  Then he stuck his hands under my ass and pulled me towards him so my dress went up just before his face went down.

  I sank my hands into the sides of the beanbag chair as his hot tongue touched my clit.

  He dragged the sides of it across my opening, breathing against me just enough to raise my temperature.

  My head fell back when he sank his tongue in me, his lips kissing my pulsing snatch.

  “Oh Wyatt,” I said, gushing against his tongue as I writhed in the chair.

  He leaned up and put his wet lips on my neck. “You taste like strawberries,” he said, sliding two fingers inside me and churning my hot center.

  I dropped my head and stared in his eyes, kissing him a second later while he fucked me with his fingers, letting him stir me up into a frenzy as a growl echoed up his throat and vibrated against my mouth.

  A moment later, he was eating me again, and I could hear his thirst for me as he lapped at my desire for him.

  And as he scooped me out like a honey bear, I felt myself get hotter and hotter until I couldn’t even hold my head up, until the energy in my buzzing clit was so intense I couldn’t even keep my eyes open.

  Then I arched my back and came, spilling into his mouth like a flood.

  Chapter 3: Wyatt

  I loved the way she kept coming.

  But it made me greedy.

  I pulled away and leaned forward to kiss her again, letting her taste herself on my lips and suck her silk from my tongue.

  Then I brought my hands to my belt. My dick was aching with desire for her, and I was afraid I would burst before I could feel her pulsing around me.

  I leaned back on my heels to catch my breath and unbuttoned my pants before moving on to my zipper. “I have to have you again.”

  Her chest rose and fell rapidly with her breath as she looked between my eyes and my crotch.

  I pulled my pants and boxers off as fast as I could and grabbed my dick, but just before I could shove it in her dripping pussy, she stopped me.

  “Wait,” she said, reaching for it. “Let me.”

  I moved my hand and let her take it, my cock surging as she wrapped her delicate fingers around it.