Page 66 of Driving Him Wild

didn’t terrify me as much as it would’ve a handful of days ago. My gaze fell back on her pictures.

Maybe we could make this work outside this wilderness bubble.

Shit, I was licked if I was already factoring her into my future.

Would that be so bad?

The answer never formed, the door creaking open redirecting my thoughts to the present.

She stood in the doorway, a blanket drawn around her body, her hair sexily dishevelled. Lips I’d

feasted on repeatedly last night were still swollen and the sight of her bare feet curling into the wooden floor was seriously arousing.

Fuck me, but she was breathtaking.

‘I don’t remember giving you permission to leave me alone in bed.’

The firm, hot dominating voice immediately triggered a fever inside me, fire licking through my

blood. Before I took my next breath, my cock was hardening, my fingers tingling with the need to

submit, to please, to hand over my surrender to her.

‘I would be very happy to return there if that’s what you wish,min elskerinde.’

She started to answer but then her gaze fell on the pictures. Eyes widening, she stepped into the

room. ‘What is this?’

The stiff note in her voice made me tense. ‘I was going through the images on my camera and—’

‘And you decided to print out pictures of me?’ Her voice was hushed but stiffer with growing

wariness.

I spread my hands to lighten the mood. ‘Hey, it’s no big deal. I just wanted to see the images in

different lights.’

She turned from the one propped up on the shelf, her eyes suspicious. ‘Why? Your project isn’t

about me, remember?’

I bit the inside of my cheek, reluctant to share my idea with her just yet. In this mood, I suspected she’d say no out of ingrained habit.

Once I presented the full picture, she’d know my intentions were honourable. I took the most direct cop-out. ‘I’m aware of what my brief is. This is the way I work, Graciela.’

A trace of suspicion receded from her eyes, but she remained wary as she glanced at the pictures. It was part of the set I’d taken outside the tent as she’d stared up at the aurora borealis. The naked awe on her stunning face had needed memorialising. The instinct that few people, if any, were granted the privilege of seeing this powerful woman overcome with childlike wonder compelling me to take the

photos.

I wasn’t about to tell her any of that, of course.

While the past few days had revealed she’d push for the personal on occasion, she wasn’t one for

prolonged introspection or subjects that dwelled on her or her family for too long.

The snippets I’d gleaned formed their own story.