Page 83 of Wild As Her

“Don’t look at me like that,” I mutter. “I blacked out. That wasn’t my fault. And you ratted me out. Don’t think I forgot that.”

Upstairs, Jack’s bedroom door creaks shut, and the thud hits me in my core.

I smell the damn soap on his towel.

I roll my eyes at the way my body reacts to that man. He’s so infuriating… and so damn sexy.

“Goodnight, Love,” I say to my Judas of a dog and make my way to my bedroom. Flopping down onto the bed, I turn my head and stare at the nightstand, and I swear the silicone inside has turned on by itself. Stupid phantom buzzing.

“I can’t,” I whisper into the quiet room. “Can I?”

Reaching over, I slide the drawer open and feel around blindly until my hand wraps around the only cock I’ve had in a very long time.

Looking at it with a mixture of contempt because it isn’t Jack and hunger because it’ssomething, I shrug and burrow under the blanket.

“Fuck it,” I say as I push the button and close my eyes.

The bonfire crackles in the field behind the barn, sending sparks spiraling into the air like tiny fireflies.

It’s a “casual night” for filming, which means the contestants had been told to dress casually and pretend they knew how to roast marshmallows. There are hay bales, throw blankets, and lanterns hung from fence posts, and a full camera crew lurks just out of the frame.

I stand near the edge of it all, clutching a mug of hot cider like it might save me from my bad thoughts.

Those of which are currently parading around in tight jeans and perfectly curled hair, trying to get Jack’s attention while he leans up against a fence post and looks likethat.

He’s wearing faded jeans, dusty boots, and a flannel shirt that I might plot to steal later.

One of the contestants leans in, laughing and brushing invisible lint off his arm.I bite my tongue so hard I tastecopper.

He doesn’t pull away. But he does glance past her.At me.And it isn’t a casual glance. It’s a loaded one.

The kind that says “I see you. Get me out of here.I feel like I can't breathe.”

Love nudges my leg, sensing my complete inner collapse. I kneel to pet her and whisper, “He’s going to kill me with that face.”

She licks my hand as if she agrees.

“Hey,” Poppy says, appearing at my side with her own cider. “You okay?”

“Define okay,” I reply.

“You’re watching Jack like he’s on a dessert cart, and you’re on a juice cleanse.”

I groan. “Do I look that obvious?”

“Yes. But in a cute, slow-burn-rom-com way.” She shrugs. “You can make it work.”

“He’s doing it on purpose,” I complain.

“He absolutely is," Poppy agrees.

I glance back over, which is amistakebecause now he's laughing at something one woman says, but his eyes are still locked onme.Like he doesn’t care who’s standing next to him.Like he only cares about me.

Poppy grins. “Oh yeah. He’s one step away from body-checking someone into the fire pit to get to you.”

I harumph.

“Why don’t you just go over there?”

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