Page 21 of Wilder’s Mistake

Wilder studies me. “Quiet isn’t the same as happy.”

I have no answer because he’s right.

“No,” I admit. “It wasn’t.”

Perdition is somewhere out there beyond the gates, and a loaded gun sits beside his bed. Every reason I kept my distance is still here.

“Vegas was reckless,” he says. “Wanting you wasn’t.”

I cross the room.

My hands slide beneath his cut and push it from his shoulders. Wilder catches the leather before it falls and lays it over the chair. I lift his shirt and he lets me pull it over his head. Black ink crosses one shoulder and spreads over his chest, broken by pale scars. I touch the narrow line beneath his ribs that I have seen only in glimpses.

Wilder’s hands remain at his sides. “You are making me do everything,” I say.

“Well, you walked in here.”

“I seem to keep doing that.”

I kiss the scar and his breath moves beneath my mouth. Yesterday burned too fast for patience. Today I take my time. I follow ink and old wounds with my lips, feeling restraint tighten through his body as I move lower. At the waistband of his jeans, I look up and his eyes have gone dark. I open his belt and jeans. His cock strains against black cotton. I free him and wrap my hand around the thick length. The first slow stroke pulls a rough breath from him.

“Still feeling calm?”

“No.”

I lower to my knees. The first taste draws a curse from his mouth and I take the broad head between my lips, tongue moving along the underside while my hand works the rest.

Wilder braces one palm against the wall beside him and I take him deeper.

“Lucy.”

My name holds warning and pleasure. I look up while I draw him into my mouth again. The quiet man who can move a compound with two words loses another piece of control. His free hand cups the back of my head without forcing the pace.

“Keep looking at me like that and this ends fast.”

I release him slowly. “Then put me on the bed.” He lifts me in one movement.

My back meets the mattress. Wilder follows, covering me with his body, and the laugh that escapes me disappears beneath his mouth.

He kisses me slowly and the difference from yesterday is devastating. Every stroke of his tongue is deliberate. His hands open the shirt I borrowed and spread it beneath me. He looks at my bare breasts before dragging his knuckles over them.

“Beautiful.” The word comes rough. He takes one nipple into his mouth and works the other between his fingers until I arch beneath him.

“Wilder, we don’t have time for…”

“We have time.”

“But Perdition gave you a deadline.”

“Cyrus has taken enough of our time. He’s not taking this too.”

He kisses down my stomach and strips away my skirt and underwear. Light from the narrow window crosses my body. There is nowhere to hide, and I don’t want to.

Wilder settles between my thighs. He presses his mouth to the inside of one knee, then the other, taking his time while my body tightens in anticipation. His hands spread me open. The position should make me feel exposed. Instead, the way he watches me feels intimate, as if he understands I put myself here and knows the difference.

His first slow lick pulls a moan from me. He spreads me with his thumbs and keeps his eyes on mine while his tongue circles my clit. The intimacy of being watched hits harder than urgency.

I grip the sheet. He learns every change in my breathing. Broad pressure. A sharper flick. Two fingers sliding deep while his mouth returns to the center of me and pleasure builds steadily.