Wilder Read online

  Me: It’s a good thing you don’t have any plans for tonight besides me.

  Scarlett: I think you should take me out for dinner.

  Me: In my truck rather than on my bike?

  Scarlett: I like that not only do you have a working dick, you also have a working brain.

  Me: Be ready at 7pm.

  Fuck, it’s going to be a long couple of hours before I can get my hands on her.

  “Do you ever feel the cold?” I ask Scarlett when she opens her front door to me just after 7:00 p.m.

  She glances down at her black leather pants and flimsy Guns N’ Roses singlet before looking back at me. “My legs were a little cold.”

  I eye the strappy heels she’s wearing before trailing my gaze up her body to the loose singlet that every asshole we see tonight will have his eyes fucking glued to. “What about your feet? And your arms?” I barely recognise myself. I’m not usually a guy who feels this possessive, but here the fuck I am thinking like a fucking caveman and wishing like fuck that she’d consider wearing a fucking onesie. Fucking hell.

  She moves into me and places her hands on my chest. “You don’t like my shoes?”

  “Fuck,” I growl, taking hold of her and crashing my lips to hers.

  My kiss is rough. Demanding. As fucking jagged as my thoughts. It can’t be anything else with what she’s stirred deep inside me.

  When I finish with her, she’s breathless and all wide-eyed as she says, “I think maybe I’ll wear this outfit every day if it means you’ll kiss me like that.”

  “You wear this outfit every day and we’re gonna have a problem. Not because I don’t fuckin’ like it, but because every fucker out there will also like it.”

  She doesn’t smile because that’s not a Scarlett trademark, but everything about her tells me she likes what I just said. “Let me grab my jacket and then I’m ready to go.”

  A jacket.

  Thank Christ.

  I let her go and wait for her to return.

  Five minutes later, we’re in my truck and on our way to dinner.

  “So,” she says, “is Gia still alive?”

  I chuckle. “Only fuckin’ just.”

  “Do you think I’m gonna survive Saturday with her?”

  “It’ll be touch-and-go, that’s for damn sure.” Scarlett’s rostered herself on to work at the food festival with Gia, Brody, and some of the Salty Girl team. I advised against her rostering herself for it, but she insisted. My bet is she’ll either order Gia to go home or she’ll send herself home.

  A text sounds from her phone and she reads it before saying, “That was your brother. Who has been harassing me with texts all day. He told me he’s going to your dad’s birthday.”

  I glance at her. “Yeah. I have you to thank for that.”

  “Oh that reminds me, did that intel I gathered for you pan out? Or is all that damage to your body a sign it was shitty info? And I know I probably shouldn’t ask you about club stuff, but just a yes or no is good.”

  I rest my elbow on the centre console and my hand on her thigh. “You know that vault we now share that no one knows about?”

  The smile that touches her eyes catches all my attention. “Yeah.”

  “Let’s just store in there the fact that your intel panned out and that the damage to my body was necessary to sort shit out once and for all.”

  “Good to know.” She shifts in her chair, angling her body towards me as she says, “Where are you taking me for dinner?”

  “Dan’s Doghouse.”

  Her forehead creases. “Interesting name. I’ve not heard of it.”

  “You’re gonna love it.”

  “Because?”

  “You’ll have to wait and see.” Scarlett loves burgers like no one I know, and Dan’s Doghouse makes the best I’ve ever tasted.

  “Tell me it’s not just around the corner.” She leans closer, bringing her hand to my belt and flicking it open, keeping her eyes firmly on mine.

  “It’s a good fifteen-minute drive.”

  She undoes my jeans and wraps her hand around my dick, causing me to groan at how fucking good it feels. “Good,” she says before lowering her mouth to me.

  “Fuck.” I grasp a handful of her hair and do my fucking best to keep my eyes on the road rather than on her mouth around my dick.

  She takes me all the way in and then proceeds to show me again just how fucking skilled she is with that mouth of hers.

  She sucks and licks and works my dick with her hand until I can barely fucking concentrate on driving. I’ve received blowjobs while behind the wheel before, but I should have known that the experience would be more intense with Scarlett because the three times we had sex last night were the best I’ve ever had.

  She brings me close and then stops, lifting her head to bring her lips to my neck. Kissing me while massaging my balls, she says, “Do you know what I’m looking forward to the most tonight?”

  “Fuck, darlin’, I can’t think straight here. I’ve got no fuckin’ clue.”

  Her pressure increases on my balls, driving me fucking crazy. “I think I like it when you call me darlin’.” She kisses her way down to my throat as she lets go of my balls and reaches for my hand that’s not on the steering wheel. “I’m looking forward to having your hand and mouth back here.” With that, she directs my hand to her pussy.

  Jesus fucking Christ, I’m gonna crash my fucking truck if she keeps this shit up.

  “You need to hurry this the fuck up, Cherry Bomb,” I growl.

  A laugh escapes her lips. A sexy-as-fuck laugh that only gets me harder.

  And then those lips are around my dick again, and she’s sucking me all the way to the back of her throat, and less than a minute later, I’m blowing down that throat. It’s the best fucking blowjob of my life.

  I pull up to a red light as she licks my tip clean and zips me back up. Curving my hand around her neck, I pull her to me so I can kiss her.

  She smiles as I let her go. “I like a guy who isn’t afraid to kiss me after I suck his dick.”

  “And I fuckin’ like a woman who sucks my dick.”

  “Did you spend the last couple of hours thinking about this?”

  “You know the answer to that question.”

  “Good, because I did too. I may have even had to take care of myself before you arrived.”

  I look at her. “You’re killing me here.”

  She leans across and kisses me again before saying, “Don’t you know that’s been my goal since the day I met you? Just the methods have changed now. And the light just went green, so you should stop thinking about fucking me and concentrate on driving again.”

  I shake my head, completely fucking caught up in her web. “For the record, I prefer your new methods, but I’m fairly fuckin’ sure you should never get anywhere near my dick while I’m driving.”

  She crosses her legs slowly enough that it draws my attention to them. “Okay. Next time, you can get me off instead.”

  “Christ,” I mutter, the visual filling my mind immediately. “I’ve got a lot of this to look forward to, haven’t I?”

  “What? Getting me off?”

  “No, you doing your best to find ways to fuck with my ability to think.”

  She smiles and it’s so fucking sexy that I forget how to breathe for a second. “Yeah.”

  I should have seen this coming with her.

  What I never saw coming was the fact I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  30

  Scarlett

  Phoebe: I spoke to Bailey yesterday.

  Phoebe: He doesn’t sound so great.

  Phoebe: Do you think he’ll last the distance.

  Fucking hell, what is with people who hit Enter after every fucking sentence with their texts? And why the fuck is my sister insisting on texting me every fucking day? It’s been non-stop since Wednesday, which is only two days, but it feels like two weeks with the number of messages she’s sent.

  I leave my
bed and traipse out to my kitchen and put the kettle on. It’s just after 6:00 a.m. and Wilder’s gone out to get bagels. This is the third morning in a row, and I can’t deny how much I like him staying over and feeding me breakfast. I also can’t deny that he’s the first guy I’ve experienced these feelings with in eight years. Feelings I’m doing my best to stay open to.

  My phone goes off with another text.

  Harlow: You’re still coming today, right? I’ve got a plant to give you.

  Me: You could drop the plant here on your way.

  Harlow: You are not cancelling!

  Me: What kind of plant do you have for me?

  Harlow: The kind you like.

  Me: Which doesn’t narrow it down.

  Harlow: Correct. You like all plants so you’re gonna like this one. Now tell me you’re coming and I might leave you alone.

  Me: I’m coming.

  Harlow: Good. See you then.

  Today is Friday. Squad Day. I’m booked with Bobby for a wash, treatment, and blow-dry. The harsh fact I have to face is that I don’t hate this idea. I should officially call myself a Squad Girl and be done with it. Also, I’m going out with Wilder and Paul for drinks tonight, so I may consider asking Velvet to do my make-up. The last time I had my hair and face done worked out well for me. It was the night Wilder first started showing me his moves.

  Phoebe: I’m considering coming to Brisbane sooner. I think Bailey might need me.

  And there goes any good mood I had this morning.

  Fuck her.

  She hasn’t seen Bailey in years and now she thinks she can fucking save him.

  Fuck her, fuck her, and fuck her some more.

  I fill my watering can and go out to the balcony and water the plants out there. I should just make myself a tea since the kettle has boiled, but Wilder makes better tea than me, so I’ll wait for him.

  I’m halfway through the balcony plants when I hear him enter the kitchen. Glancing at him, I take in how hot he looks first thing in the morning. The man looks hot at every hour of the day, but I’ve decided there’s something about him at this time. I think maybe it’s the raw energy he projects when he’s in that space between waking and getting his head together for the day. He’s still kinda connecting all his pieces after relaxing them with me during the night, and while I like Wilder when he’s at full capacity, I really like him when he’s raw and more exposed like this. And it only makes him sexier to me.

  However, right now, with the mood I’m in after my sister’s texts, I’m too grumpy to fully appreciate that hotness. Instead of gathering my shit and keeping it to myself, I throw out, “They must have been busy today. You took your sweet time.”

  His eyebrows arch as he dumps the bag of bagels and his coffee on the kitchen counter. “You need me to help you fix your mood, Cherry Bomb?”

  “No,” I snap. “I need a bagel and a cup of tea.”

  “Well, get your ass in here and we’ll make that happen.”

  I place the watering can down and go inside. Wilder grabs his favourite mug of mine, the one that says ‘The chains on my mood swing just snapped. Run.’ and makes me a tea while I open the bag of bagels to spread cream cheese on them for us.

  “They gave you the wrong ones,” I say, holding up a bagel that has poppy seeds on it. “I fucking hate poppy seeds.”

  He eyes the bagel. “That’s all they had today.”

  I practically slam the bagel down and stomp to my pantry in search of Coco Pops, highly aware I’m being a bitch to him while also highly aware I don’t think I have it in me to tone my shit down.

  When I shove the Coco Pops, milk, and a bowl on the counter, Wilder says, “Cut the top of the bagel off.”

  I glare at him. “It’s not the same without the top. And let’s be real, those seeds are all over the damn thing, not just the top.”

  “It’s still good, though. And let’s be real, they fuckin’ aren’t.”

  “They are and you know it.”

  “What I know is you’re in a mood, and I’m pretty fuckin’ sure you’re about to pick a fight with me for a reason I’m unaware of. You care to enlighten me as to whether it’s something I’ve done, something someone else has done, or if poppy seed bagels really do piss you the hell off?”

  “I’m not gonna pick a fight with you.”

  He places my tea in front of me. “Yeah, you are. Sit your ass down, drink your tea, and talk to me.”

  “Stop bossing me around.”

  “You need bossing; otherwise you’re gonna stay moody.”

  “See, you are dictatorial.”

  “And tyrannical?”

  “Yes!”

  “In that case,” he says, coming my way, picking me up, and placing me on a stool, “sit the fuck down and drink.” When I open my mouth to tell him what I think of his actions, he bends his face to mine and steals all my words with a kiss. He then says, “Tea works fuckin’ miracles on you.”

  My phone sounds with another text, and I swipe it up to read it while trying to ignore the traitorous butterflies in my stomach. I don’t want to admit how much I like that Wilder can deal with my moods without getting in a fight with me, a trait I’ve never met in another man.

  Phoebe: Maybe I should take over as the family contact at the hospital where Bailey’s staying.

  “Oh no she fucking doesn’t!” I madly tap out a reply.

  Me: I’m the one paying his bills and I’m the one who’s been there for him for years while you got high every fucking day, so I’m the one who’s staying as the family contact. If you try to change anything or if you fuck him up more than our mother already has, I WILL make you hurt. Stay the fuck away from us.

  By the time I hit Send, my chest is ready to explode with the fury swirling in there. I slam my phone down on the counter and force out a long, angry breath.

  “What’s going on, Scar?” Wilder says as he sits on the stool next to me, his eyes filled with concern.

  I stare at him, long and silently, while I figure out my thoughts. That’s hard to do because there are decades worth of anger, hurt, and resentment tied up in these thoughts. Finally, I say, “Remember when you told me you’re good with blood?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It might be time to prove that.” I have no clue why these words are falling out of my mouth or why I’m being so honest with him because opening up to people like this isn’t something I’m good at, but here I am letting it all out. “My sister is coming to Brisbane next weekend and she wants to see me. She also wants to help Bailey.”

  “This is a bad thing?”

  “This is a really bad thing.” I take a deep breath, needing the air in my lungs and the moment to untangle my thoughts. “Phoebe is our older sister and is a lying, stealing piece of shit who is high all the damn time. The last thing Bailey needs is to be around her.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “I wish I could tell you she lives in Alaska, but she lives in Sydney, which will never be far enough away.”

  “And how long since you’ve seen her?”

  “Two years.” I take another deep breath. “I can’t see her, Wilder. I can’t do it. I cut her from my life for a good reason and I refuse to go back.”

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

  My heart pounds faster. Louder. More fucking insistently like it’s trying desperately to be heard. Like it’s trying desperately to make me pay attention. “She’s going to show up regardless. I know she is. And Bailey’s going to let her. He’s not ready to quit the drugs, and she’s going to be the one he turns to because she’s the one he knows will give him her blessing to keep doing what he wants to do.”

  Wilder places his hand on my forearm. “Talk to Bailey’s psychiatrist and make it clear to him that she can’t visit. I know you can’t stop the two of them talking and texting, but maybe you can stop them seeing each other.”

  I turn that over in my head and nod. “Okay.” It doesn’t feel like eno
ugh, but it’s a start.

  “The other thing, Scar? Sometimes we have to let go. Sometimes we can’t control a situation we really want to. You can’t do Bailey’s growing for him.”

  The way my heart crashes against my chest at his words drives home that this is my greatest fear. “I know.” The words choke out of me. “And that fucking sucks.”

  His eyes search mine, full of the kind of compassion that slows me right down. “Yeah, it fuckin’ does.”

  I stare at him for another few moments and then say, “I don’t fully hate poppy seeds. Like, on a scale of one to ten, I’m at maybe a seven.”

  “So you’re saying I’m gonna have to share these bagels with you after all?”

  “Yes.”

  He leans in and brushes his lips over mine, taking his time as he asks, “You wanna keep talking about your sister or should I stop Dr. Philling you now?”

  “Dr. Phil can leave the building now.”

  He grins before jerking his chin at the bagels. “Hit me with some cream cheese.”

  I cream cheese our bagels and pass his over.

  I sip the tea he made me.

  I roll my eyes at something he says about the TV show we caught an episode of last night in between rounds of sex.

  And I think about how much I like being with him.

  Leaning into him, I grip his shirt and say, “I like you, Justin Miller.”

  His smile is like a beacon to my butterflies. “That’s a good fuckin’ thing because I’m about to put an end to bagels and tea.”

  That I allow him to take my bagel from me before lifting me onto the kitchen counter reveals just how much I like him. There are two things I’m not about when it comes to food: sharing my Tim Tams and letting someone take a bagel from me. I’ve done both with Wilder.

  Wilder World is a real fucking thing.

  31

  Scarlett

  I push my way through the crowd who are out in full force tonight thanks to Friday night football. It turns out Paul loves the Broncos as much as Wilder does, so we’ve come to a pub that’s got tonight’s game on the big screen. Wilder and Paul are already here; I told them I’d meet them here because I wanted to give them some time alone to catch up without me.