Page 85 of The Summer of Wild

"I've never come like this before."

"Like what?" he asks as he kneads my breasts with his hands.

"With... with your dick in me."

He stops moving. "Really?"

"Yeah," I click my tongue. "Uh... is that normal?"

"I don't know," he kisses my shoulder again. "I think it just depends."

"Why is everything better with you?" I let slip out.

His hands leave my breasts and he places one arm around my shoulders, the other around my waist. "I don't know, Blondie."

Ingrid. Say, Ingrid.

"Is it better for you?" I know I shouldn't ask, but I want to know.

"Yeah," he smirks. "Much better. You're also the only girl I'd ever have sex with without using a condom."

"What?" I twist to face him. He kisses my lips. "You've never had sex without a condom before?"

"No, not before you," he shakes his head, his hazel eyes filled with stunning shades of gold and minty green. "You should feel honored you're the only person I'd be willing to almost make a baby with."

I smile as his eyelashes brush along the mole beneath his left eye. "I'd take good care of our almost baby."

An emotion I can't quite read crosses his face. "I know you would. Now, how about those snacks?"

He pulls out of me, and I feel empty again. I grab my robe as he puts on his jeans.

Empty.

I never realized how empty I felt before Wilder made me feel whole.

Chapter 22

The Blissful Bubble

Everything is hazy and muggy as I slowly open my eyes. It's almost as if someone left the shower on, and steam is spilling out of the open door.

Daylight slips in through the slit in the curtains as I run a hand along Wilder's stomach, his rock-hard morning wood jabbing my elbow. My head is perched on his chest, his heart beating a steady rhythm beneath my ear. I don't know what time it is or how long we've been asleep. I only know that I don't want to leave my bed. I don't want to open the curtains or check the time on my phone. I don't want to burst the blissful bubble.

But I know it's coming. There's something looming on the horizon—something dark and murky threatening to bust through the haze and ruin us. Ruin this.

I wrap an arm around Wilder, wishing holding him tight would erase all my fears. Fears that something external—not internal—is going to blast us apart.

Instead of worrying about it, I turn my head and kiss his warm skin, savoring the moment. His arm moves and his hand cradles the back of my head. I tilt my neck to look up at him. He's smiling—actually smiling—back at me. I try ignoring the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach telling me things won't always look this clear in the morning light, but it's relentless.

As if on cue, my stomach lets out a ravenous roar and Wilder laughs. "You hungry, Blondie?"

Ingrid. Call me Ingrid.

I stretch beside him and nod my head. "Yeah. I worked up an appetite last night."

After we recorded ourselves having sex, Wilder and I made popcorn and watched it back as we lay in bed, laughing at all the weird sounds leaving our mouths. In the moment, everything was hot and sultry. The playback, however, was more like a badly scripted adult film.

Except it wasn't scripted. And in the moments when I stopped focusing on how awkward my hips rolled and how funny I sounded, I saw what was really there. Two people who spent years fighting each other before finally giving in to whatever forces kept shoving us together.

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