Page 146 of One Wild Wish

“Better that than picturing him and me in bed.” An image I needed to bleach from my brain. Lust throbbing in my bones, I gripped her shoulders and forced her to a healthy distance. “What about our dinner?”

She eyed the bag, then my crotch. “I’m hungry, but not for food.”

That’s my girl. “Get upstairs and get naked. I’ll close up here.”

I slapped her ass to send her on her way. She squealed, tossing me a sexy smile as she took our dinner and her luscious curves upstairs.

She may not have been ready to open up fully, sleep over and risk getting hurt, but she was all in for the hours we spent together. Our dirty explorations between the sheets. Our lunches at the site. The endless texting in between. I was falling harder, deeper, but she seemed to be coasting, enjoying our moments, not asking for more. For now, I’d take what I could get.

I stalked through my shop, my loose belt buckles clanking with my hurried strides. My hands itched to get back on my girl, but as I reached up to drag the garage door down, I halted.

A black SUV was parked at the end of the street, one I’d seen a few times recently. Not the usual pickup or beat-up car cruising this area. This truck was too posh to blend in. As though aware of my stare, its headlights shot to life, engine turning over as it pulled out and disappeared around the corner.

Paranoia gripped me, like I was in some TV cop show, invisible bad guys staking out my home. I hadn’t felt this unsettled since Tessa first accused me of the affair. It had taken a while to figure out I was being tailed back then, by a sleazy private eye hired to dig up non-existent dirt.

The same disquiet was back. It shot my mind to our last meeting—Tessa’s comment about me only ever hearing what I wanted. Something about it didn’t sit well. I’d also been stewing over the evil glimmer in her eye when she’d bragged about firing her lawyer. It left me worrying she had more planned. Or maybe this was her grand scheme: to play the part of emotional terrorist, leave me searching for strange cars, nervous to bring a new lover into my life.

Well, fuck that and fuck her. I had a woman upstairs who was hilarious and sweet, a pinup girl brought to life just for me. Ellen’s offer today meant there was a chance I could turn my passion into a business. Good fortune was coming my way, long overdue, and I deserved the chance to enjoy it.

I yanked down the garage door, a loud clang ringing as the metal struck the concrete, then I hastened up to my apartment.

Ainsley was in my room, in nothing but a skimpy pink bra and thong, my cowboy hat on her head. A stunning vision. She was doing some sort of ballet move, heels together, knees bending wide. She kicked out a leg and pulled her pointed toe up her inner thigh, twirling in place. The ends of her blond hair flew in a circle. “Doll, you shouldn’t do things like that. Makes me crazy.”

She curtsied. The demure ballerina. “Crazy good?”

“Crazy amazing.” I grabbed my T-shirt by the back of my neck and yanked it over my head. My jeans hit the floor, my socks next. My straining cock stretched my briefs at an awkward angle. “I have proof.” I pointed at my dick.

She licked her perfect lips. “That you do.” She removed the cowboy hat and placed it on my head. “How was the build today? I was bummed I couldn’t make it.”

Digging my fingers into her hips, I hauled her against me, stomachs flush, skin against skin. Heat licked my spine. “The first section of homes is looking great. More volunteers have been showing up. We’ll be landscaping soon.”

“I hate missing it.”

I spanned my hands across her tailbone. “I hate missing you. You should come tomorrow, if you can.”

But she frowned. Tomorrow was Friday. Anton would be there. I’d met the man who’d ridiculed Ainsley in high school, clocked some hours with him and his students. I hadn’t been happy about it at first. Spent the first hour fisting my hands, but Anton was good with the kids, firm but well liked, it seemed. It bothered me, what he’d done to Ainsley, but people change. He also limped from his broken leg and had gnarly scars on his burned hand. He’d been through enough.

Ainsley kneaded my shoulders like they were stress balls. “I’m planning on ambushing him soon. The thought makes me feel like I’m stuck in the Evil Bathroom again, or the Chucky’s Chicken walk-in fridge, but, like you said, I’ll regret not doing it.”

I rubbed her back, realizing just how hard this was for her. How much guilt she harbored from a prank gone awry. Under her dirty humor and perfect nails was a sensitive soul.

We were in our underwear, talking and touching, but neither of us moved to take things further. She nuzzled her cheek against my thudding heart, and her gaze landed on my bedside table. On my jar of broken glass.

She hadn’t asked about it since that first time, but whenever she came over, I’d find her staring at the shards, occasionally picking up a piece and studying it. I’d shared a lot with Ainsley, a woman who blew into my life with her painted nails and name-brand clothes—a stylish hurricane. Still, there was something about that glass. They were pieces of me. Fragments of my most intimate memories and misguided hopes for my future, another childish wish: to find the owner of my missing pieces. Someone who could make them whole.

Make me whole.

Possessiveness rushed through me, a hot blast of longing to brand Ainsley, mark her as mine. My hands moved as I walked us to the bed. I kissed her shoulder and neck, sucking and biting as I pressed my weight onto her in the middle of my sheets.

She purred. “Oh, I like that.”

“You taste like chocolate.” Decadent.

Her moan turned into a light laugh. “My favorite chocolatier sells a perfume. I dab it on my neck.”

“That explains why I want to devour you.” But not why I’m halfway in love with you. The unbidden thought had my next nip turning into a rough bite, and our hips lined up.

She took control then, flinging my cowboy hat to the floor and flipping us so she straddled me, a playful look of reproach spreading. “Is that the only reason?”