Page 90 of Wild As Her

What am I even supposed to say to that? “Yeah, hate fucking sounds great, when do you want to pencil that in?” Jesus. Get it together, Jack.

She keeps going, and now she’s teasing me about being speechless. And she’s right. I’ve fought wars, branded wild cattle, stared down my father without blinking, and yet Cami smirking like she knows exactly what she does to me has got me tongue-tied.

This is dangerous. This issodangerous.

Because if I let the words that are currently screaming through my bloodstream come out of my mouth, we’re not coming back from that.

And part of me doesn’t want to.

Because hate fucking? That’s not what this is. That’s not what I want. I don’t want rough and angry. I wanther.All of her. But she’s throwing gas on a fire that’s been burning between us for a decade, and I’m one wrong look away from losing every shred of control I’ve got left.

And damn it, sheknowsexactly what she’s doing.

We fall into silence, and for once, it wasn’t awkward. Not exactly. Just tense enough to be interesting.

I looked down at her, hair coming out of her braid again, lipspursed in that permanentI’m planning mischiefgrin. “You really fantasized about hate sex with me?”

She rolled onto her side, facing me, elbow propped up like she was getting comfortable. “I didn’t say it was withyou.”

This makes me almost sit up straight. Who else is she thinking about this with? Oh, hell no.

“Oh, so you fantasized about hate sex with someoneelsewhile sitting at our tree with me? That’s comforting.”

She grinned. “I’m just saying, if someone’s being an arrogant pain in the ass, sometimes the only logical next step is tearing their shirt off and shutting them up with your mouth.”

I stare at her. My mouth opens and closes again, and I suck in a deep breath.

She stares right back. God, I want her. So fucking bad. But not here. Not like this. I don't hate anything about Cami. Far from the opposite. I'd love to have her. But not in a one-time way. She's my forever. She just doesn't know it yet. When we're on the same page, there won't be any hate in there.

She grins at me. "You couldn't handle me, Jessop."

“No, you couldn't handle me, Wilder.”

“See? You’re already halfway to hate fucking me. Admitting it is halfway to doing it.”

“You’re unhinged,” I manage to say.

“Thanks,” she says sweetly, resting her head back on my shoulder.

Her hand finds my stomach again. Not in a suggestive way, more like a cuddling kind ofway. Still, I have to focus very hard on the leaves above us andnotthe fact that she's basically using me like a human heating pad while casually discussing hate fucking me like we're talking about taking a drive.

“I’m not saying weshould,” she says after a beat.

“But you’re not saying we shouldn’t.”

“I’m just saying if the tension gets any thicker around here, one of us is going to combust, and it’s probably going to be you.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re already halfway to a meltdown every time I so much as blink in Beau’s direction.”

I glare at her.

“Exactly.” She winks. "Plus, I take care of myself, so I don't combust."

Oh, holy hell. She's trying to kill me. She really is.And this is it. The moment I realize she's going to drive me to the edge. Now, I for sure won’t get any sleep in my sleeping bag on the floor, picturing her down the hall in that huge bed making herself come. Jesus.

“Let’s go,” I say, groaning as I stood and pulled her up with me. “Before you say something else that makesmecombust.”

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