Page 13 of Wilder’s Mistake

Wilder looks at me. “Tell me what you want.”

I hold his gaze. “My husband. Against this wall.” The word breaks the last of his control.

He drives inside and the stretch steals my breath. He fills me in one deep thrust, then holds still while my body adjusts around him.

He pulls almost free and drives back in. The map knocks against the wall, and a pin drops near his boot. Wilder takes me hard, one arm locked beneath my ass and the other braced above my shoulder. I meet every thrust, dragging him closer when he tries to give me space.

The wall presses cool against my back while his body burns everywhere else. He shifts his hold beneath me, opening my thighs wider, and the next drive lands so deep I lose the shape of his name halfway through saying it.

His mouth moves over my throat. His jeans scrape the backs of my thighs. The hot, relentless drag of him inside me wipes away everything except this room and the man who has spent years pretending he could leave me alone.

“All those men,” he says against my skin.

“Jealous?”

His next thrust is harder. “Of every single fucking one.”

“You could have said something.”

“I’m telling you now.”

He changes the angle. Pleasure strikes deep enough to tear a cry from me.

“There?”

“Oh God, yes. Again.”

He gives it to me until pressure gathers fast and fierce. One hand moves between us, his thumb finding my clit.

“Come for me.”

My body locks around him. I come with my mouth against his, pleasure tearing through me in hard waves while he keeps driving. His rhythm breaks. A rough curse leaves him as he thrusts deep and comes inside me.

For a moment, neither of us moves. Then Wilder carries me to the bed and sits with me across his lap, still holding me close. His palm moves over my back in slow passes while the last tremors leave my body.

I rest my face against his neck and listen to our breathing settle. Sweat cools along my skin. The wall map now hangs crooked beside us, one black pin still on the floor beneath it.

“You all right?” he asks.

“Very much so.”

His mouth touches my temple. It is the first gentle thing he has done since I entered the room, and somehow it unsettles me more than the hard sex against the wall. Desire is easy to understand. Care asks what happens after, and nothing about wanting him is unclear now.

“We still need to talk about the fact that we’re married,” I say.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Do you want an annulment?”

His arms tighten once around me. “No. I don’t.”

The answer comes too fast to be anything but true.

“You never considered it?”

“I only considered whether you would ask for one.”

I search his face for panic, regret or the careless arrogance of a man who thinks a legal tie gives him possession. I find none of them. Wilder looks as if the marriage is a fact he intends to understand rather than escape.