Page 124 of Wild As Her

My fingers dig into the front of his shirt as he deepens it, one hand sliding up to cup the back of my neck, his thumb brushing just behind my ear. His body is all heat and tension, every line of him pressed against me like he can’t get close enough.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, breath warm against my lips.

“Do you have any idea what you just did in there?” he whispers, voice wrecked in the best way. “You were fire, Wilder. You were… damn.”

Igroan, a little breathless. “I thought I was going to lose it on him.”

“You held your own.”

I search his eyes—green and steady and filled with something that makes my chest ache.“Was it too much?”

“Not at all.” He kisses the corner of my mouth, slow and soft. “You fight with your whole heart. You make people want to be better.”

I blink fast. “I didn’t think anyone would ever say that to me. Not really.”

“Well,” he says, tilting my chin up, “get used to it. Because I’m gonna say it every damn day.”

My heart flips. Fully, stupidly flips.

“You were so calm in there,” I whisper. “So steady.”

He smiles, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “Only because I knew you had it handled. I’ve never been so proud in my life.”

“You’re gonna make me cry, Jessop.”

He kisses me again, gentler this time, like a promise. “Then let me distract you.”

“Hmm.” I grin against his lips. “What’s the plan? Carry me off to the barn like some cowboy romance fantasy?”

“I could.” His hand slides just a little lower. “But I’d rather take you home. Make you lunch. Kiss every freckle on your body. And tell you a hundred times over that you’re the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me.”

I melt. Fully. Into him. Against him.

Because that’s what Jack Jessop does.

He holds the fire and the softness. The loyalty and the heat.And he gives it all to me.All of him.

Chapter 33

Jack

One Man Band by Old Dominion

The sun sets behind the barn, casting golden light across the fields like the universe is trying to be romantic on purpose. Which is probably good because none of this feels real or romantic in the least. Elena stands beside me in a pastel floral dress that matches her lipstick. Her hair is curled, and her smile is camera-ready.

She's playing the part. The only problem is that I’m not. I’m struggling so badly with all of this.

I stare at the camera crew gathering by the gate, trying not to look like a man who’s about to commit televised emotional fraud.

“You ready?” Elena asks, looping her arm through mine like we’re prom dates instead of two people pretending we’re about to fall in love.

I nod. “Sure.”

She glances up at me. “That was… convincing.”

I wince. “Sorry. I’m just tired.”

I’m not. I’m panicked.

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