Page 75 of Stay Wild Darlin’

He leaned back in the booth, wiping his hands on a napkin before tossing a few crumpled twenties onto the table.

“Yeah?” he asked, eyes glinting under the low light. “Can I show you what else I can ride well?”

My head snapped up. “Dalton.”

I tried to sound stern, like I was scolding him, but the heat in my cheeks betrayed me instantly. There was no bite in my voice.

“What? You walked into that one.”

As we walked through the quiet lobby toward the elevators, I reached up and snatched his hat right off his head.

He blinked, surprised, as I slid it on with a smirk.

“Relax, cowboy. I’m seeing how it feels to be the one in control for once.”

He tilted his head, lips twitching. “Dangerous game you’re playing, stealing a man’s hat.”

“Why? Is that like . . . sacred in your weird little cowboy code?”

“It is,” he said solemnly, eyes narrowing. “Also, I’m having a real hard time concentrating with you wearing it like that.”

“Like what?”

He grinned. “Like you belong in nothing but that.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks, but I laughed anyway.

We stepped into the elevator, and as the doors closed, he looked at me slowly from head to toe, letting the silence linger a little too long.

“You look good in my hat, darlin’,” he murmured, voice low and honey-smooth.

I bit back a smile and reached up to take it off, but he gently shook his head.

“No,” he said. “Let me live out a fantasy in my head before I walk you to your room.”

His green eyes sparkled with mischief, and suddenly it was so hot in that tiny steel box I could barely breathe. The air between us pulsed, each second a slow pull toward something inevitable.

When the elevator doors opened, we stepped out onto my floor, both pretending we weren’t seconds away from giving in to the energy crackling between us.

He gestured to the door across the hall. “That one’s mine. But I can come in if . . .”

I turned toward my door and reached for the handle. “Thank you, Dalton. For dinner. For bringing us here tonight. For not making me feel weird about whatever⁠—”

I didn’t get to finish.

He caught my waist and pressed me back against the wall, firm but careful. Sliding his body close, he held his mouth barely a breath from mine.

“Thank me again, darlin’ . . .” he whispered, voice rough and filled with promise, “when I’m done.”

His mouth crashed onto mine. His lips, warm and hungry, took everything I wasn’t saying and answered with heat.

I couldn’t think. I kissed him back like I’d been waiting my whole life for it.

He slipped his hands to my waist, gripping me like he was holding himself back. When he deepened the kiss—tongue sliding against mine, breath hot, body pressed against me—I forgot the hallway, the hotel, my own damn name.

He pulled back slightly. “Come inside my room.” He all but begged. “Please.”

I couldn’t speak.