Page 21 of Wildfire

And no sooner had Wilder’s bare feet touched the plush rug around his bed than Hermes zipped around to replace the bedding. It wasn’t hard to find the linen closet, and all he really bothered to do was toss one messy sheet to the side of the room and put the other down—okay, and he took the time to tuck the corners of all that silky indulgence in properly.

With fresh new bedding, Hermes dropped into the bed and smiled up at Wilder. “Better, prissy pants?”

Wilder pursed his lips and scowled, but he didn’t have anything to complain about. In the end, he’d gotten what he wanted, so as irked as he was, he slipped into bed too—just not before putting on an absurdly nice pair of boxers.

Those weren’t going to keep him safe from Hermes’s questing hands, if that was what he was after. But Hermes figured he didn’t have to pick at every single thing Wilder did. In thisoneinstance, it might be counterproductive to getting what he wanted.

Once Wilder was settled, Hermes squirmed in toward him.

“What are you doing?” Wilder asked, and even though his voice was rough from use, he sounded completely flummoxed that Hermes would want to be close to him.

“Changed the sheets,” Hermes muttered, finally close enough to drape his leg over Wilder’s, his arm over the man’s chest. He buried his head against Wilder’s shoulder, not for one second deterred by the fact that Wilder didn’t hold him back. “You owe me a cuddle.”

As shocking as it was that Wilder didn’t push him off, Hermes’s head nearly exploded when he eased his arm out from between them, only to wrap it around Hermes, shifting his head into the curve between his pec and collarbone and giving Hermes a comfy place to rest—almost like it didn’t pain Wilder to have him close.

Uncle Hermes

Wilder wasn’t the kind of man who threw around the word “normal” under most circumstances, least of all to call a person something other than that. He’d lived through more than his share of mockery. As a child, he’d been the fire-starting freak. As a young man, the loser with his nose in a book.

It had been only in the last few years, after finishing college and starting to teach, that Wilder had come into his own. That he’d even started to feel comfortable in his own skin.

Then everything had fallen apart, of course. Like instant karmic retribution for getting complacent.

His therapist said karma didn’t really work that way, and she knew better than he did, but that didn’t change how he felt. He’d thought his life was falling into the order it was meant to have. A permanent job, a long-term relationship—all the things people were supposed to want.

It didn’t matter so much that Wilder didn’t even know if it was what he wanted. It was what he wassupposedto want, wasn’t it?

So why did lying there with the conundrum that was Hermes feel more natural than it had ever felt with David?

Maybe it was just because Wilder was a selfish ass, and he didn’t care what Hermes thought of him. Whereas with David, he’d never quite been able to move past self-consciousness. He’d always showered and fixed his hair just so before letting David see him in the morning, because if he didn’t, David would purse his lips and brush Wilder’s stray locks into place.

He’d never been quite comfortable, and David hadn’t wanted him to be.

Hermes was messy in every way. Not concerned about bodily fluids, but also not afraid to suck Wilder’s cock ten feet from a busy city sidewalk, not ashamed to be bested in public. Hermes, in fact, didn’t seem to be shamed by anything.

There was a sudden pressure at the end of the bed, and Wilder almost startled.

He lifted his head to look down at his cat.

Melly... did not like people. In the time he’d lived with David, she hadn’t once come into the bedroom at night. She’d gotten back into the habit as soon as David left, and Wilder liked having her around, but he hadn’t expected her to show up with anyone else in the house, much less loud obnoxious Hermes.

Hell, he’d expected her to spend the whole time hiding in the guest bedroom—which was her bedroom, where he kept her cat condo and toys and other furniture he’d gotten her instead of a proper guest bed and other amenities required for having people stay over. David had always lamented the waste of a perfectly good spare room, but, well... Wilder was sure it made him a stereotype in the eyes of people like chirpy Helen, but Melly was family. She got her own bedroom. He certainly wasn’t going to eject her from it so that he could invite guests he didn’t even want.

Just like she did every night Wilder was alone, she slipped up along his side, purring and marking him starting at his toes and working her way up.

She didn’t go over and pay attention to Hermes, but frankly, it was more comfort than she’d ever shown around David, or even Wilder’s parents. She quite disliked them, in fact; particularly his father, whom she’d hissed and taken a swipe at. His father had demanded she be declawed, and Wilder had suggested perhaps they should remove his father’s fingers at the second knuckle instead. They had avoided Melly after that.

When Melly reached his hand, she did her usual little dance of shoving her head under it, making him pet her. Not that he minded.

This time, though, after a moment of head scratches, she slipped from beneath his hand, braced her front paws on his chest, and leaned up to sniff at Hermes.

It was absolutely unprecedented, and frankly, made Wilder rethink every uncharitable assumption he’d made about the man. Yes, he was a rude ass, but if Melly didn’t dislike him, he must also have redeeming features that amounted to more than “gives amazing head and is incredible in bed.”

When her nose reached his hand, Hermes, with a deliberate slowness that seemed antithetical to his nature, turned his hand palm up so she could sniff it. “Kit-ty,” he cooed. “Aren’t you a pretty girl?”

Melly didn’t dodge away and hide, but leaned even farther in, sniffing up his wrist, like maybe he was hiding food up the sleeves he wasn’t wearing. Then she pulled back and rubbed her face against his hand, repeatedly.

“Aww,” Hermes said, chuckling. “Sure thing, Kit-o. All yours. Who could resist those big blue eyes? Almost as pretty as your Daddy’s ridiculous eyes, aren’t they? This whole place is just inappropriately perfect. Like something from one of Hebe’s Instagram posts.”

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