Page 112 of Wild As Her

His mouth brushes against my hair. “I missed you today.”

“You saw me this morning,” I murmur into his shirt, breathing in the scent of him and feeling relief pulse through my body. Home. He smells and feels like home to me.

“I know.” His voice is low, rough. “Didn’t help.”

It should be illegal for a man who used to be a Navy SEAL and can out-stare a bull to be this tender. But he is. With me.

Dinner is simple. Baked ziti, a slightly questionable side salad, and the fudgiest brownies I’ve ever eaten. We eat cross-legged on the couch, plates balanced on our laps, a romcom playing low in the background.

I lean into him, legs tucked up under me, his arm slung around my shoulder like it belongs there. Likehebelongs here. Because he does.

His thumb traces lazy circles against my arm. “You get enough to eat?”

“I’m stuffed. Just let me lay here and rot.” I sigh, deeply content in his arms.

His lips touch my temple. “Never letting you go, baby.”

We don’t say anything for a while. Just breathe. Just exist.

Thisis what I’ve been craving. The quiet. The calm. The soft click of a future falling into place. Even if there are stillcameras filming and people everywhere. It has to eventually calm down.

Later, we end up at The Black Dog with Ollie and Poppy, Weston, and a few of the crew members who’ve finally started packing up their gear and shipping it out. Only two more days of filming left, and it shows in Jack. He’s looser tonight. Lighter. Definitely more relaxed. We’ve both slept better than ever. Having him in my bed feels right.

He’s still got that spark in his eyes when he sinks a solid in the corner pocket and raises his brows at me. “That’s three in a row, Wilder.”

I glare, half-drunk on root beer and the way he looks in that fitted black T-shirt. “You’re cheating.”

“Pretty sure I’m just better than you.”

“You’renot.”

“Then come prove it.”

I stalk over to him, grab the cue from his hand, and use the opportunity to slide my body against his, slow, deliberate, playful. He growls low in his throat, arms coming around me. His mouth brushes my ear.

“You’re gonna pay for that later.”

I glance up at him. “That’s the idea.”

The others groan behind us, but Jack just laughs, that low rumble in his chest that vibrates through me.

This is what I missed. This version of us. No cameras, no pressure, no pretending. Just me and him, flirting over pool tables and stealing kisses in the corner booth.

I shoot and sink nothing.

Jack leans in. “Still better.”

He is the best.

Back home, we curl up again on the couch, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my hip while Love snores at our feet. The energy of the bar still thrums in my veins, but next to him, everything feels grounded.

He kisses my neck. Slow. Soft. Thoughtful.

“I can’t wait for this to be over,” he murmurs, and I know he doesn’t mean us.

“I know.”

“They’re almost gone. Jenna said we’ll finish filming the last scenes this weekend. Two more, and I’m done.”

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