Page 110 of Wild Then Wed
“One day,” she murmurs, fork lingering for a beat before disappearing between her lips.
I point my fork at her, the edge of it catching the light from the fire. “Your turn.”
She raises a brow, still chewing. “My turn for what?”
“To play. Two truths and a lie. You guessed mine. Now I get to guess.”
She groans. “But I’m boring.”
I shake my head once. “No chance. I don’t think you could be boring even if you tried.”
That earns me a look. Not sarcastic. Not guarded. Just…surprised.
She sighs like I’ve asked her to do manual labor, then tilts her head, thinking.
“Okay,” she says slowly. “One—I’ve ridden bareback in the middle of a lightning storm. Two—I’ve never had a one-night stand. Three—I once punched a guy in the face because he called me sweetheart after I told him not to.”
My stomach pulls a little tighter with each one.
She says it all so casually, like she’s listing off grocery items. But I can feel something shift in the air between us.
I take a bite of cheesecake, buying myself a second. Then I set the plate down and glance at her.
“The lightning storm thing? Definitely true. You would totally do that.”
She snorts. “Fair.”
I keep my eyes on her. “And I’m gonna say the lie is the one-night stand.”
She watches me. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t smile.
Then, softly, “Wrong.”
Fuck.
I lean back against the couch. “Seriously?”
She nods. “Never punched anyone in the face.Wantedto. Never actually did it.”
I look at her again. Really look.
She’s all bare feet and long legs and firelight, curled into the corner of the couch. The space between us feels smaller now. Not physically, but in that way where the air shifts and suddenly I’m very aware of every inch of my body, of hers, of how close my we are and how easy it would be to just reach over and—
I blink hard and look away.
Because all I can think about is that someone else has touched her like that.
Someone else has memorized the slope of her shoulder, the way her mouth curves when she’s half a second from smiling. Someone else has kissed her when she’s tasted like firelight and dessert.
And I hate it.
Hate how that thought carves out a hollow in my chest and settles there like it has every right to.
She shifts beside me, oblivious, lifting her legs to tuck them underneath her, and I pretend like I’m still watching the fire.
I nod slowly. “Guess I lost.”
She shrugs. “Only a little.”
