Page 12 of Wilder’s Mistake

“Last night has gaps,” he says. “But this time won’t.”

I catch the front of his cut and pull him down. Our mouths meet hard.

Wilder catches my hips and turns us, driving me back against the wall beside the map. One thigh presses between mine and pleasure flashes at the contact.

“You came here to talk,” he says against my throat.

“Suddenly, I’ve changed my mind. Don’t make me regret it.”

His teeth graze the place where my neck meets my shoulder. “Not a chance.”

He kisses me until the thought breaks apart. His hands move beneath my blouse, palms dragging over my waist and ribs before closing around my breasts through the lace.

I arch into him. “Still blaming tequila?” he asks.

“Shut up.”

He opens my blouse. One button snaps free and strikes the floor.

“You owe me a button.” I laugh against his mouth.

“I’ll buy the whole shirt,” he says, barely taking his mouth off mine.

Then my bra is gone and his mouth closes around one nipple. The first pull sends heat straight between my legs. I hold his head against me while his tongue circles and his teeth add just enough pressure to make me gasp. His hand covers the other breast, thumb moving in time with his mouth until every nerve feels tuned to him.

He switches sides without hurry, watching my face as he takes the second nipple between his lips. I have imagined this man losing control with me for years. I never imagined the patience. The way he learns what makes my breath hitch and repeats it until my knees weaken.

“Bed,” I say.

“Too far.”

He lifts me.

My skirt rides to my waist as I wrap my legs around him. He pins me against the wall, the map rattling behind my shoulders, and reaches beneath the hem.

His fingers find wet lace.

“Fuck, Lucy.”

He pushes the fabric aside. The first stroke over my clit makes my hips jerk. The next is harder. Two fingers slide inside me while his thumb keeps circling.

I cry out before trying to quiet myself.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “Concrete walls.”

“Then nobody can hear me.”

His eyes darken. He curls his fingers and proves me wrong about how much sound I can make.

I cling to his shoulders, suspended between his body and the wall while he works me closer. His cut brushes my bare skin. The restraint in his face is almost gone.

“I want you inside me.”

He lowers me long enough for us to strip the rest of our clothes away. His belt hits the floor. I open his jeans and free him, thick and hard in my hand.

A flash of the hotel returns. Wilder above me. My knees high against his sides. His control breaking when I tightened around him. I stroke him once and his jaw locks.

Heat streaks through me. He lifts me again. I guide him between my legs, the broad head pressing against my entrance.