Chapter Ninety – Making It Up to Me

Wakening from my deep sleep, the space next to me is empty. Where is Wyan? He had been sleeping. I woke up a couple of hours ago, sighing in the bathroom, and he was fast asleep, snoring softly. Has he gone? I sit up slowly, collect myself, and then pry myself out of bed to check if he’s around or has left. I checked the entire apartment, but he was nowhere in sight. He must have decided to go without saying a word. I let out a sigh before going to the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee. When it’s ready, I pour myself a large mug and take a seat at the kitchen table. I don’t feel like eating, so I’ll just have coffee for now.

I smile after taking a sip. I love the first sip of coffee in the morning. It is always so delicious. The unexpected sound of the front door opening startles me.

“Alyssa, are you awake?” I hear the sound of Wyan’s voice.

“Yes, in the kitchen,” I call back.

I hear him approach. Since he must have left for breakfast, I’ll have to eat quickly to avoid another lecture. He appears behind me, bending down and kissing my cheek before holding a bunch of red roses in front of my face.

I take them. “Thank you. They are beautiful. Where did you find them so early in the morning?”

“Sweetness, I picked us up some breakfast,” he says, placing the roses down. We sit down together at the table, and I feel hunger creeping in.

“I apologized to Diner; that’s why I left early. I met him for coffee,” I explain.

“Thank you. I won’t apologize to every guy I’m rude to because of how they look at you,” he states firmly. “I don’t expect mea culpa from a friend or someone you know.”

“Great, as long as we have a clear understanding,” I reply. “This is valuable for us.” Oh, pancakes topped with fresh fruit and cream; I can wait.

“Eat your breakfast,” he instructs.

“Yes, sir,” I reply and take a bite. God, they are so good. They taste just like Wyan’s homemade ones. We eat in comfortable silence. It’s as if last night’s events never happened. I appreciate him saying that, but at least he didn't throw me out when I messed up. I finally managed to get some sleep.

“Thank you, Wyan. I would never throw you out. It makes me happy.” At the table, he places his hand in mine and squeezes gently. He lifts my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “I know—I can be a prickly jackass at times, but you know what you mean to me, right? You know everything I do is for you,” he says.

This makes me feel shaky. He is nervous. He meant it. Yes, he has his moments, but it doesn’t mean I doubt what I mean to him. Do I sometimes wish he could be calmer? Of course. But at the same time…

He smiles and focuses back on breakfast. I do the same. I clear up when we are done. Wyatt comes up behind me, enveloping me in a hug while placing kisses on my shoulders. I shut my eyes, silently mourning as I lean back into him.

“Can I join you in the shower?” he rasps in my ear.

My breath hitches in my throat. “Yes.”

“I hoped you would say that. I still have some making up to do.”

“And how exactly do you plan to do that while taking a shower?”

He moves his lips on my neck and runs his hand over my ass. “I thought I could start with dropping to my knees, pulling your leg over my shoulder, and burying my tongue deep…”

I let out a deep moan, feeling a throbbing sensation between my thighs even just thinking about it. His hand moves to the front of my body and slips into my shorts. “Mmm, wet already, come on?” he whispers seductively, dancing his fingers over my folds.

My head falls back. “Yes, sir. I am always aroused by you.”

He withdraws his hand. “Just how I like it.” He bites into my neck, prompting another moan to escape my mouth. He chuckles and moves away from me. I turn around to face him. He smirks, pulling me into his chest and kisses me roughly. I encircle his neck with my arms and reciprocate the kiss. Wyatt lifts me up by hooking his hands under my thighs. I wrap my arms and legs around him, our lips not breaking.

He carries me toward the bathroom. I grind against him. He growls loudly, hardening against me. It is my turn to smirk. I can get to him as much as he can get to me. Upon reaching the bathroom, he sets me on my feet and starts the shower.

“Strip,” he commands.

I comply with his request and take off my pajamas. Wyam’s eyes scan my exposed body, his tongue sliding over his lips. He follows my lead, removing his clothes too. He points towards the shower, and I rush into it. He comes over and forcefully presses my back against the wall. I gasp at the force. Our bodies are pressed close together as our lips meet in a passionate kiss. Fuck. I didn’t realize how badly I was craving him until now.

“I am going to enjoy savoring your delicious pussy now,” he growls, dropping to his knees before me. The sex with him…for his tongue to be buried inside of me. If this is his way of making it up to me, maybe we should argue more often. I’m certain that the make-up sex will be absolutely mind-blowing.