This is the last thing I should be thinking about. Although I knew he was healing nicely, this just wasn’t right. It wasn’t his fault I’d been taken by his twin, but the truth of the matter was, I was still here, forced to be in Wilder’s room until he was completely healed. Why that mattered, I had no clue, but I also couldn’t lie and say I didn’t like being around him, forced to or not.
But we should’ve talked, right? We most definitely shouldn’t have sex.
But that’s what I want.
Feeling my body climb higher with an arousal I’d never felt before, my eyes dropped to his feet. He was barefoot, and even that part of his body was so damn attractive. I lifted my gaze over his faded jeans, ones that molded to his muscular thighs and looked well-worn. His chest was bare aside from the white bandage wrapped around his bullet wound. I knew he hated wearing the bandage because the wound was all but closed, but Kimber insisted he kept it on, and I knew he only did it to placate her.
But even still, even knowing the wound that lay under it had nearly taken his life, his muscles in his chest were so pronounced, so cut and raw, that it was impossible not to feel wholly feminine around him.
The tattoos he had weren’t grossly exaggerated, and he wasn’t covered in them like his other brothers, but the ones he did have only seemed to accentuate the power he wielded. I had a feeling, just by looking at Wilder, that the authority he emitted was natural to him, as natural as breathing.
And then I was staring at his hands, saw how big they were, how they’d dwarf mine. Even now, I could feel them in my hands, his fingers twined with mine as I held him.
God, the images I conjured of what he would do with those long fingers and at how much power he could exude made me blush intensely. And then I was staring at his face. He watched me, and the fact that he saw me checking him out should have embarrassed me that I’d been caught, but I couldn’t care. I liked that he saw me, no doubt knew how much I wanted him.
“We should talk,” I whispered, but talking was the last thing I wanted to do.
“We’re alone,” he replied, and a shiver left me at the way he spoke those words. There was dark intent in them. His eyes were heavy-lidded, and this low, deep sound came from him.
I opened my mouth to say something else, although I had no damn clue what I would’ve said to follow that up, when Wilder suddenly moved so he was now right in front of me. He didn’t say anything as he reached up and cupped my cheek. He rubbed his thumb across my bottom lip, back and forth, his focus on my eyes. I wished I knew what he thought right now.
“I’ve stayed away, didn’t touch you anymore after that first time… because I didn’t trust myself to be gentle.”
I swallowed at his words. “But you do now?” I looked up at him, trying to read him, but he was like a fort.
He didn’t verbally answer. He just shook his head slowly. “But I can’t stay away anymore, Zoey.”
God, I was losing my mind.
I’d been told that once Wilder was healed fully, I’d be taken somewhere far away, dropped off where I couldn’t find my way back to them. It all seemed so unrealistic, made no sense, and that’s what led me to believe I’d be killed. I’d always be able to find my way back to this town. Maybe not to them or where they lived, but close enough. But he seemed healed, had for a while now. Was it his hope to keep me here now?
In this moment, as Wilder touched me, as I thought about all the times I sat by his bed and sang the same song my mother hummed to me when I was little, I felt this connection to him. I felt like I bonded with this dangerous man.
My breaths became shallow, quick. We stayed silent, just looking at each other, and as much as I wanted him to say something else, anything, the silence stretched on.
And then he exhaled and said, “I’ve thought about this so many times, Zoey.” Wilder’s voice was deep. He lowered his gaze to my lips, and a husky sound left him. “I swore I saw you with my eyes closed, in my dreams, knew you were there, even if I didn’t see you.”
My heart jerked in my chest. He looked into my eyes again, the truth right there in his expression, laced in his words. It didn’t feel like we didn’t really know each other. It didn’t feel like our lives were crossed at this impasse, that I was thrust into his world without wanting to initially be here.
“I’ve thought about kissing you so many fucking times it makes me hard.” He looked down at my lips, and I forced myself not to lick them. “I remember how you taste, how you feel, Zoey.” His voice broke on that last word.
I wanted to give myself to him.
And then he slid his hand to cup my nape and pulled me in close so his lips were on mine. God, I missed this. I felt myself melting into him. There was no hesitation, no surprise that we were crossing that line for good this time. It felt too good, too right, and that scared the shit out of me.
I couldn’t help myself as I moaned against his mouth. He swiped his tongue out, ran it over my bottom lip, and the deep sound that left him had my nipples hardening and my pussy instantly becoming wet. The reaction he caused in my body was so fierce it was as if gasoline was poured on an open fire.
I was combustible.
I couldn’t help myself. I lifted my hands and curled my fingers into his bulging biceps, feeling how hard he was under my palms and fingers. I tilted my head to deepen the kiss then moved even closer, pressing my chest to his, feeling his hardness to my softness… and how aroused he was as it dug into my belly.
Our tongues stroked along each other as if they had a mind of their own. It started out slow at first, but with each passing second, the passion grew until I wanted to feel him inside me.
“Wilder,” I whispered, and a second later, this harsh growl left him as he hauled me onto his lap. I broke the kiss and panted, worried about his wound, opening my mouth to say just that, when he shook his head and leaned in to kiss me softly.
“I’m fine. More than fine.”
“I don’t want to hurt you even more.”
He shifted slightly, lifted his hips so I could feel how hard he was, how hard I made him. “Does this feel like I’m still hurt?”
I gasped, sucking in a breath as arousal shot through me like a hot poker. I slowly shook my head. “No,” I whispered.
He grabbed my hips and pressed me down… right on his huge, hard cock.
“Christ,” he said and lifted his hips again, grinding his stiffness against my denim-covered pussy. Another gasp left me, a shot of pleasure filling me. Wilder pulled back, and this flash of disappointment filled me that maybe he came to his senses, that he knew we probably shouldn’t be doing this. I was about to complain, but the deep-rooted sound that left him had all words stilling in my throat.
I had my hands on his shoulders, the muscles under my touch flexing, tight. He clenched his jaw, and I felt his cock jerk again, as if it were trying to tear through the clothing, his arousal a living entity. I bit my lip to hold off on mewling in desire, in wanton need.
“You don’t—” He shook his head, stopping me from finishing. I knew he wanted this—that was obvious—but he was stopping regardless, so maybe that didn’t matter?
“Oh, I fucking want this, Zoey. I’ve never wanted anything as I want you.” He sounded like some kind of crazed animal.