Page 125 of Naughty & Nice

I didn’t realize just how much I’d missed hot food or how hungry I was, but I’m ravenous. And apparently, I’m not the only one.

“Fuck, I need that,” Wilder announces behind me before shoving me aside to run into the kitchen.

“I’ve made tac—” Noelle’s words falter at the sight of us. “You’re not eating like that.”

“W-what?” He gawps, alternating between looking at himself and the food. “I’m starving.”

“And you’ll still be starving once you’ve showered and put something warm on. You’re dripping all over the floor.”

I can’t help but snort a laugh at the expression on his face.

With a grunt of frustration, he begins tugging at his sopping clothes.

“What are you doing?”

“Whatever it takes to get food,” he announces while wrestling with his t-shirt.

“Go to the bathroom,” Noelle complains.

“Rix might eat it all.”

An astounded laugh spills from my lips.

“Just go and get dried off; I still need to dish up.”

But Wilder isn’t having any of it, and in another few seconds, his wet clothes are in a pile on the kitchen floor.

“Can I eat now, please?” he asks, shamelessly walking toward Noelle with everything hanging out.

“You’re naked,” she points out, her eyes dropping.

A twinge of jealousy pulls at my insides, but it doesn’t take hold. I know for a fact that if I were to do the same, she’d be looking at me in the same way.

“And no longer dipping all over the floor. Just one taco, then I’ll go and shower. Please. I’m wasting away here. A machine this good needs fuel, Rebel.”

“Jesus,” I mutter. “I’m going to shower,” I say, leaving them to argue this out.

I figure if I hit the bathroom first, I’ll get food faster.

“No, I’m not feeding you while you’re—argh,” Noelle squeals.

I almost turn around and rush back to see what’s happening, but I don’t. I force myself to keep moving.

Noelle’s laughter continues to fill the cabin as I step into the bathroom and close the door.

My own insecurities niggle. I don’t want to let them in, but with our return home pending, I’m finding it harder and harder to keep them locked up in the box I shoved them in when we embarked on this… on this… experience together.

Am I enough?

It’s a question I’ve asked myself a million times over the years, but I’ve never felt it as potently as I do now.

What if we get back and she realizes that I’m not?

Then what?

With my heart racing, I strip off and step into the shower in the hope of washing my fears down the drain.

It’s wishful thinking.

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