Page 40 of Another Man’s Treasure

I don’t know what to do or say. Did that just happen? Did Wilder just call the fucking Sandovals to tell them to cut Saint out of this deal? Is he for real?

He turns to me, crossing the kitchen until he’s so close I could reach out and touch him. “Are you okay?” He moves like he’s going to touch me, but at the last minute slips both hands into his jeans pockets instead. “Oz,” he presses, brows furiously bunched, “are you alright? He didn’t touch you? Didn’t hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” I manage. “Truly, I had it handled. We were in public. You didn’t have to⁠—”

“Yes, I did,” he says.

“What if they don’t find another rep quickly?” Worry rises again.

“Then it’ll take longer,” he says, like it's the simplest thing in the world. “And you’ll be my fake boyfriend if you’re open to it. I’ll pay more, whatever you need. Just…I can’t stand by and watch him treat you like that.” He sighs. “Do you know how hard it was watching you two fly off tonight?”

“Thank you,” I whisper, “for having my back.” I slide my hands to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. It’s a fascinating sound, and I can’t wait to feel mine beat one day.

“Speaking of unwanted advances,” he continues with a frown, “I shouldn’t have kissed you earlier. That wasn’t okay. I just—” He lifts a hand, running it through short blond hair. “Something came over me.” Green eyes flash in the low light of the corner fireplace.

This feels pivotal, this moment where I think he’s admitting he wanted that kiss. Shit, I wanted it too. And then when I had it, I didn’t want it to end.

“I wanted it to be real,” I admit softly. “And it felt real to me. I got lost in that kiss, Wilder.”

His eyes flash again, and he steps backward, my hands falling away from his chest.

Shit, shit, shit. Why did I just make this weird?

Cocking his head to the side, he drops his gaze to my mouth, nostrils flaring. The predatory look in his eye has my self-preservation running high, and I flare my wings protectively up and partially around myself. It’s instinctual, that need to be ready to fight.

Wilder looks up at them, his serious expression morphing into a seductive smile.

“You liked that kiss, Oz?”

He steps closer until his big body presses against mine, backing me against the door. “It was real.” He cocks his head to the side, hovering his mouth over mine. “And I wanna do it again. But I don’t want to be like that fucking asshole, just taking whatever I want with no care for you whatsoever.”

Oh gods, is Wilder Lane about to kiss me? Dropping my wings at my back, I shuffle them as I stare at his beautiful mouth.

Here goes nothing.

“Good.” I push forward until my lips touch his. “I can’t imagine anything I want more right now than your mouth.”

Wilder surges forward, pressing his lips to mine so hard my head hits the door. But it unleashes something inside me, and I hop up into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. Thrusting my tongue into his mouth, I drag it along his, marveling at how soft he is. And his taste is decadent, like smoky honey and warm sunlight.

His mouth moves hungrily over mine, soft growls tumbling from his throat as he holds me against the door. Soft lips explore every inch of my mouth as he moves from the corner of my lips over the swell of the top, then the bottom. Then his tongue slips inside to tangle with mine until we’re biting at each other like we can’t get enough of what we need.

I’m hard and aching, my body tense with lust when he pulls back. My lips burn from that brutally perfect kiss. It was like everything Wilder does—deep, intense, and quietly commanding.

A rough hand slides up my chest, fingertips resting lightly on my throat. My cock kicks against my thigh, precum dripping from my tip as his thumb traces a path over my lower lip. When I let out a needy little groan, he tightens his grip until I’m writhing against his bigger frame. His giant erection is a hard bar against mine, and I grind faster, needing more.

I part from that sinful mouth long enough to press my forehead to his. “Wilder, I⁠—”

When my voice trails off, he pulls me from the door but doesn’t set me down. Never looking away, he turns and walks past the kitchen to the bedroom. The double windows’ shades are drawn, the room dark except for the pale sheets and pillows on his king-sized bed.

He throws me down into it, smirking when I bounce on the soft mattress. “Take your clothes off.”

That’s all he says as he steps backward to lean against the wall, slipping both hands into his pockets. He props a foot up, silent as he watches with that same sexy expression.

Moving up to sit on my heels, I tuck my wings carefully at my back as I stare at him with a lift of the chin. “Wouldn’t you like to remove them for me, Mister Lane?”

Wilder

I love a bratty partner. The sass, the push and pull and the final submission? Decadence. There’s a fine line, of course, but I can’t wait to make Oz give in. Taking care of him afterward will be nearly as pleasurable as making him come.