13
“Wyatt Gates is my weakness. The harder I try to let him go, the more fiercely my heart holds on.”
—Georgia Wright
Wyatt Gates is kissing me, and it’s everything I hoped it would be.
His tongue gently requests entry as it runs along my lips, and I open my mouth, inviting it in. God, yes. Wyatt deepens the kiss. His fingers are now at the nape of my neck, threading into my hair, pulling my mouth into his. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him close to me.
“Hey, Peaches.” His fingers grasp my arm, shaking lightly.
My mind is foggy, but I try to ignore his words. I want his lips back. I close my eyes tighter, waiting for the kiss.
“Georgia. Wake up.”
“Ugh,” I groan. “Go away.”
I’m bitter. The Wyatt of today stole me away from the Wyatt of my dreams.
I don’t want the real Wy
