Wilder Page 22

  His sexy smile returns. “And I thought you weren’t a woman who followed rules.”

  “Only my own.”

  “So fuckin’ true.”

  We turn silent while he traces lazy lines down my side to my hip. I try to spend these minutes locating my brain again, but it seems I’m happy not knowing where it and all my thoughts have disappeared to. I’m happy to simply lie next to Wilder and let him muddle me some more.

  “Have you been to London?” he asks. At my confused expression, he nods at my London tattoo down my right side.

  I look at the tattoo, something I don’t do much anymore. Even after all these years, thinking about London stirs emotions I don’t want anything to do with. “No.” I bring my hand up to his face and move so I can kiss his neck. “I feel like we need sandwiches.”

  “Pretty fuckin’ sure I just gave you some.”

  “No, like real sandwiches. I’m hungry.” I shift onto my knees and brush my lips over his. “But after we eat, I’ll take more of your sandwiches.”

  “So fuckin’ demanding,” he says, but it’s clear he’s into that idea.

  “Also,” I say as I move off the bed, “just so you’re aware, I’m on birth control.”

  “Thank fuck.” He comes to me, snaking his arm around my waist and pulling me close. “I’ve never lost control like that before.”

  My chest blazes with the sensations only he’s ever caused.

  The churning energy that makes it hard for me to breathe and to think.

  I stare at him, unable to speak for a hot minute.

  Finally, I throw out, “You were a little out of control.”

  He misreads me, his eyes filling with regret. “I’ll use a condom next time.”

  I flatten my body against his even more, my eyes boring into his as I ignore everything happening in my chest. “No,” I say softly, “that’s not what I meant.”

  “What did you mean?”

  “I liked you losing control. You should feel free to do that often.”

  He doesn’t give me his smile.

  He doesn’t tell me he’ll keep that shit up.

  He doesn’t kiss me like I kind of expect him to.

  No, this man is all about stealing someone’s attention in other ways.

  Ways I never had a chance at preparing myself for.

  “So long as I’m with you, Scar, I haven’t got any fuckin’ hope of not losing control.”

  I was right.

  I’m now in Wilder World and need a good old-fashioned slapping.

  28

  Scarlett

  Phoebe: I’ll be in Brisbane not this weekend but next. I want to see you.

  And happy fucking Wednesday to me.

  I push the bed covers off, slip on undies and a T-shirt, and exit my bedroom to go in search of Wilder, who I sadly did not wake up next to. If he’s left without saying goodbye, I might just stab him for being a dick. I mean, we spent the night having the kind of sex I need a whole lot more of and then talking about random shit we’ve done in our lives. That’s something I don’t do with just any guy, so I expect the one I do choose to do it with to not slip out while I’m still sleeping.

  He’s nowhere to be found, and my flat is tiny, so it’s not like I could miss seeing him. I check outside for his truck and see it’s gone at the same time another text comes in from my sister.

  Phoebe: I’m just asking for one coffee. Let me say what I have to say, and then if you don’t want to see me again, I won’t push you.

  Me: It’s 6am and way too early for these kinds of texts. Actually, it wouldn’t matter what time you texted me. I don’t want to hear from you. Stop. Texting. Me.

  I slam my phone down on the kitchen counter and fill my kettle. I need tea to deal with all of this. I’m almost certain I was in a good mood while I was sleeping. A good mood that is now ruined.

  And to think I cancelled yoga this morning because I thought Wilder would be here.

  Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the full reason, but still, a guy should say goodbye after sharing sandwiches.

  My phone sounds with another text and I snatch it up, ready to give Phoebe a piece of my mind. However, it’s not from her.

  Paul: FYI, I hardly slept last night and I’m blaming you entirely.

  Me: Do you want a medal for identifying the root cause? I’m all out of them if you do.

  Paul: And here I thought my brother knew how to use his dick. Are you telling me he doesn’t? I thought for sure you’d wake up all sparkly today.

  Me: Oh he knows how to use it alright. He just doesn’t know what to do the next day.

  Paul: You’ve lost me.

  The sound of my front door closing and boots coming my way draws my attention to the kitchen doorway, where I lay eyes on Wilder walking in with a coffee and a bakery bag.

  I place my phone down again, ignore the messages that it keeps pinging with, and say, “Just a heads-up, the first time you make sandwiches with a girl, you shouldn’t let her wake up alone with no note saying you’re coming back. She could assume all sorts of bad shit if you do.”

  His lips twitch with that amusement I used to hate but not so much anymore. “Got it.”

  Two more texts come through that I continue to ignore. “What’s in the bag?”

  “You gonna check those messages?”

  “I don’t think so.” I jerk my chin at the bag he’s holding. “Did you buy me something? And a heads-up here, too, the correct answer is yes.”

  He closes the distance between us and bends his face so he can brush his lips over mine. “Has anyone ever told you that you snore?”

  My eyes widen. “I do not.”

  He chuckles. “Well, it’s not a full snore, but it’s cute.”

  I snatch the bag from him. “I do not snore. Stop making up lies to get out of the fact you ran away before I woke up and then thought better of it and brought me food in the hopes I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

  “Let’s just all agree that there isn’t a chance in hell I could get out of you holding shit against me if you’ve made up your mind to. I brought food because I’m a nice guy.”

  I roll my eyes as I open the bag. When I see he got bagels, I narrow my eyes at him. “Did you know they’re my favourite?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How?”

  “Maybe because I’ve had to listen to you go on about how much you love them for the past year and a half.”

  “When did I ever go on about bagels while you were around?”

  He slows the conversation down while moving right on into my space and hooking his arm around my waist so he can rest his hand on my ass. A smile etches itself deeply in the grooves around his eyes as he says, “It seems I was paying attention far more than even I realised because while I was at the bakery, it occurred to me that I know you love bagels and vanilla cupcakes; that you love those hamburgers from that place down by the river; that you hate tomatoes on those hamburgers but add beetroot and pickles; that you really dislike roast pork, baked pumpkin, peas, beans, and apple sauce; and that you really like kabana, bacon dip, and cheese in all varieties except blue cheese. It also occurred to me that you talk about food a fuckuva lot at work.”

  Another text comes through and I mutter, “Jesus, your brother is a lot of work sometimes.”

  Wilder keeps smiling. “That, he is.” He picks up my phone and hands it to me. “Check your messages while I make you tea.”

  I grab some cream cheese from the fridge and a knife and plate before sliding onto a stool at the counter. “Do you want cream cheese on yours?”

  Wilder nods. “Thanks.”

  I spread the cream cheese on the bagels while he makes tea. I then check my messages as I take my first bite of the bagel.

  Paul: Where did you go?

  Paul: Scarlett, stop ignoring me or I will bombard you with texts today. I know you love that kind of thing.

  Paul: Right, let the bombarding commence.

  Paul: Thanks to you
and your little bubble bursting conversation last night, I find myself thinking I’ll probably go home for Dad’s birthday.

  Paul: You can expect to be bombarded with messages that weekend too.

  Paul: FYI, that’s next weekend so prepare yourself.

  I glance over at Wilder when he settles his ass on the stool next to me after placing a mug of tea in front of me. “I won’t be contactable today. I’m leaving my phone at home.”

  He sips some of his coffee as he reaches for his bagel. “Because?”

  “Because your brother has just threatened to bombard me with texts. And while I love him, I hate excessive texts. Like, why do people insist on chatting all day via text message?”

  Another text comes through.

  Paul: I just had the BEST idea. I should add you to one of my group chats. You’ll laugh all day long over the stuff we send.

  Me: I will cut your dick, your balls, and your hair off if you add me to that group chat. And I’m not even kidding. We will also never be friends again.

  Paul: There you are.

  Paul: Calm down.

  Paul: I’m not even in a group chat.

  Paul: You never did tell me what’s going on with Justin and you this morning. Spill the tea, sister.

  Me: Seriously, why do people take four texts to say one fucking thing? Stop hitting enter after every damn sentence. And no, I’m not doing TMI about your brother. Now, I’m going to eat breakfast and drink my tea. In peace. No more messages until at least lunchtime at which point I will accept another from you.

  Paul: Seriously, IDK why I like you so much. Clearly us Miller boys are attracted to your hard-ass ways.

  I put my phone down and pick up my mug of tea. After taking a long sip and then a deep breath, I look at Wilder, who’s watching me like he’s watching something that truly fascinates him. “Wherever you got these bagels from is a place you should visit more often. Also, I give you a hundred points for this tea. You’re forgiven for not being here when I woke up.”

  “The next time we make sandwiches, I’ll be sure to leave a note when I go to get you bagels.” He’s smiling and using the metaphor we joke with, but I don’t miss the underlying tone of seriousness he’s projecting, and damn if it doesn’t wake my butterflies up. I like that he’s paid attention to my needs even if that neediness is a pain in the ass.

  “So,” I say, wanting to shift the conversation, “what do you think your chances of surviving Gia today are?”

  The food festival I signed Salty Girl up for is taking place this Saturday, and I’ve been working with Gia on it after Wilder finalised the menu with her. As far as I’m concerned, we’re ready for it, but Gia has a knack for coming up with scenarios of all the things that could go wrong and then driving me crazy with phone calls about her panic. I’ve done my best to put her mind at ease, but I’m almost ready to call her unhinged. Wilder told me yesterday that he’d spend today helping her to give me a break. I think he realised we might not actually have a chef by the end of the week if I continue working with her.

  His smile grows. “If that’s your way of asking whether you’re likely to get sandwiches tonight, let’s just say you’ll be waking up to a note tomorrow morning.”

  More. Butterflies.

  Jesus, who even knew this was a thing?

  Not me.

  I take another sip of tea, slowing all my responses to Wilder and these butterflies right the hell down. Finally, I say, “Maybe I already have plans for tonight.”

  “You need to cancel them if you do,” he says, all big dick energy in the way I wish I didn’t like so damn much.

  “And you need to remember I’m not a girl who can be bossed around.”

  Who am I kidding here?

  I was that girl, but I’m not so sure anymore.

  Not now that I’m in Wilder World.

  “That’s not something I’ll ever forget,” he says, his eyes burning with an intensity I’ve never seen. “But when it comes to me getting my hands and mouth on you, nothing’s gonna stand in my way.”

  “Right,” I throw out, all flustered by that look in his eyes and what he said, “now that we’ve established you are in fact dictatorial, let’s go back to discussing Gia. You should know that she’s at DEFCON 1 level with her stress over the festival. I’m not convinced she’s gonna make it to Saturday without driving you insane.”

  Intensity continues to blaze from him. “I’ll show you dictatorial if you want, Scar.”

  “Trust me, I’ve already seen it.”

  He moves off his stool and lifts me to sit on the kitchen counter like he has the actual speed of light. Standing between my legs, he takes hold of my neck while gliding his other hand up under my T-shirt to settle on my waist. He angles my head to the side and dips his mouth to my neck. “Trust me,” he says, all gravel and heat as he presses those lips of his to my skin, “you haven’t come close to seeing it.”

  Wilder World is my new favourite place because holy hell, I’ve never felt what I am right now.

  Like, how many butterflies are actually in my stomach? I’m pretty sure there are at least ten million, but that seems excessive. Would that many even fit in there?

  And can we just talk about my vagina? I honestly think it’s almost a walking, talking body part of mine. It’s in the flap of all fucking flaps. I wouldn’t be surprised if it suddenly pops right on up next to me and advises that my brain can fuck right off because it’s now calling all the shots.

  “Stop trying to distract me,” I say, refusing to put my hands on him even though that’s exactly where I want them. “We need to discuss Gia.”

  Wilder’s hand moves from my waist to my breast while his mouth makes its way up my neck. “We don’t need to discuss Gia. In fact, I’m gonna dictate that we don’t ever discuss work while I’ve got my mouth on you.”

  Jesus, a girl only has so much restraint.

  Especially when her vagina is staging a coup.

  Wilder’s mouth finds mine, demanding I get on board with what he’s doing. When his tongue meets mine, at exactly the moment he slips his hand into my undies, I surrender and give him what he wants.

  I’m not convinced we’re going to make it into work today.

  Gia might finally have a reason to lose her mind.

  29

  Wilder

  I rake my fingers through my hair and do my best not to lose my shit with Gia. We’ve been going over all the things she thinks could go wrong at the festival for the past hour, and to say I’ve almost reached my last shred of patience is a fucking understatement.

  “Gia, that’s not gonna happen,” I say more harshly than I intend. “You need to stop chasing down these rabbit holes of worry. You and Scarlett have planned everything down to the last detail, with multiple backup plans for shit that could go wrong. If something happens that you two haven’t planned for, we’ll figure it out on the day.”

  Her face twists with more worry. “I just don’t want to fuck this up, Wilder. This is our one shot, you know?”

  “I know it feels like that, but it isn’t. I don’t think any of this shit is gonna happen that you’ve planned for, but even if it does, Salty Girl is good. Your food is out of this world, and the restaurant has the kind of reputation that most restaurants in Brisbane would fuckin’ kill for.”

  “It does, but even you’ve said that this festival would put us on the food map we’re not on yet.”

  “If we’re not on that map after this weekend, it’s only a matter of time before we are.”

  My phone sounds with a text, and I glance at it, way past fucking ready for this conversation to be over.

  Paul: You win. I’m going home for Dad’s birthday.

  I look at Gia again. “I have to make a call. I think we’ve covered everything here we needed to.”

  Her expression is anything but positive, and I expect her to demand more of my time, but she doesn’t. “I’ll go over what we’ve discussed and let you know if I come up with anything
else.”

  I don’t fucking doubt she will.

  “Keep Scarlett in the loop too.”

  I head out of the restaurant and pull up my brother’s number to call him.

  “The next time you go looking for a woman, let me take point, okay?” he says, answering my call. “I’ll make sure she’s more manageable than Scarlett.”

  “We both know you fuckin’ adore Scarlett.”

  He sighs. “It’s true. I do.”

  I chuckle. “Trouble in paradise?”

  “She’s ignored all my texts this afternoon. I’m not used to being ignored. Is she ignoring yours too?”

  “I’m not sitting around texting her.” I check the time because I have to meet Griff at Trilogy at 5:00 p.m. to go over some security stuff. “Fuck, I have to go, Paul. I was just calling to say we should book our flights to Mt Isa ASAP.”

  “Yeah. I’ll get on that.”

  Paul’s better at this kind of shit than me, plus he always hunts down a deal, so I’m grateful that he’s taken charge. “Let me know what I owe you. And I’m glad you changed your mind.”

  “I don’t know if it’s the right decision, but unfortunately, I can’t get what Scarlett said out of my head.”

  “It’s the first step. The ball’s in Dad’s court after this.”

  “Yeah,” he says, his voice filled with what sounds like doubt. “We’ll see what he does with it.”

  After we end the call, I’m left with thoughts of my hope that Dad doesn’t fuck this up. I’m not sure Paul will be up for a second try at fixing their relationship if he does.

  Another text comes through on my phone and I find another song link from Scarlett. “Sex on Fire” by Kings of Leon. And then another message comes in that causes my gut to tighten right the fuck up.

  Scarlett: I’ve been thinking about your truck a lot today.

  Fuck.

  I know the lyrics to this song, so I know which line she’s referring to.

  Me: You wanna wrap your lips around my dick, Scar?

  Scarlett: Like you have no idea.