Page 140 of Wild As Her

“I still think you’re impossible.”

“I know that too,” he grins.

His hand moves down, skimming the open back of my dress, fingertips grazing bare skin. “And I still want you every second of every day.”

My breath catches.

We sway to the music, the rest of the world disappearing. It’s just him and me and the heat between us, undeniable, dangerous, stupid.

His breath hits my cheek, then my jaw, then lower. My heart pounds.

“Jack,” I whisper.

“Yeah?”

“If you kiss me again…”

“I won’t stop this time,” he finishes.

His eyes are heavy on mine, like gravity and sin and all the things I swore I’d never let myself want again.

He leans in, then he turns back to me. “Where were we?”

I raise a brow. “You were about to make a terrible decision.”

He leans in again, slower this time. “Then let’s at least make it together.”

And when his lips meet mine, everything else fades. The stars. The music. The chaos of Bridger Falls behind us.

All I know is the way he kisses me, slow and deep and with every ounce of tension we’ve been holding back. His hands grip my waist like he can’t help it. Like I’m not something he’s choosing, but something he needs.

It’s not sweet. It’s not polite. It’s desperate. And real. Andeverything.

When we finally break apart, breathless, his forehead rests against mine.

“You’re dangerous,” I whisper.

“So are you.”

Then, softly: “You were always the one, Cami.”

And for once, I don’t argue.

Not when the stars are overhead, the lake laps at the dock beneath us, and the whole town is losing their minds behind us.

Maybe we’re a little reckless. But damn, it feels like fate.

We stay like that, pressed together in the soft sway of music and lake wind, the rest of the town a blur behind us. Jack doesn’t speak, and neither do I, not when silence says more than we know how to. It’s the kind of quiet where a person can fall in love and not even realize they’ve done it until it’s already too late.

Eventually, someone shouts, “Get off the damn stage, you’re making us all feel bad for being single!”

It’s Tucker. Of course it’s Tucker.

“Eat a cupcake and cry about it,” I call back, not even glancing away from Jack.

He smirks. “How does it feel to be in love with me, Wilder?”

“I think it feels pretty good.” My heart lurches. God, he’s dangerous like this—smiling at me like I hung the moon, like I’ve never broken his heart and he’s never broken mine. And for a second, I think he might kiss me again.

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