Page 172 of Wild Then Wed
The air between us is heavy, pulled tight. Her ponytail drips slowly down her back, water sliding over her shoulders. Her chest brushes mine when she breathes. And every second she doesn’t move is another second I get to stay in this exact place—halfway between self-control and something else I’ve been trying not to want.
But God, do I want it now.
She shifts just slightly on my lap, and it’s fucking torture. My fingers dig into her hips, my jaw locking tight. My dick’s throbbing under the water, trapped beneath the curve of her in that sinful, barely-there bikini. Her thighs tighten around me, her fingers pressing deeper into my chest like she’s not sure if she wants to pull back or crawl closer.
My hand slides up, my fingers rough but deliberate as they catch her jaw. A slow drag of my thumb beneath her chin, tipping her face toward mine.
That little hitch in her breath?Mine.
The way her ribs flutter under my touch?Also mine.
My mouth brushes the shell of her ear, and I feel it—her inhale—sharp and shaky. A shiver races through her, so slight I might’ve missed it if I wasn’t tuned into every goddamn tremor of her body.
Fuck, she’s close. So close I can smell the champagne on her lips, feel the warmth of her breath as it ghosts over my skin, wrapping around me, pulling me deeper into her orbit. Into her.
My voice is gravelly, rough and ruined, when I lean in and murmur, “Biggest turn-on?” A heartbeat. Hers or mine, I don’t know. “When a woman takes what’s hers.”
Her thighs tighten around me again and I can’t hold in the groan that escapes my lips. “When she sits on my cock like it belongs to her.”
She doesn’t pull back, not really. Just enough that her nose skims mine, her breath warm against my lips.
“Yeah?” Her whisper is a challenge, a dare.
And then she moves.
Slow at first—just a shift, a teasing roll of the hips that has my fingers digging into her waist like I’m clinging to the last shred of my sanity. My brain flatlines. The air in my lungs turns jagged, trapped somewhere between my ribs and my throat.
She does it again.
Fuck.
My hands drop lower, greedy, possessive, palming the sweet curve of her ass as I drag her harder against me. I need more. More friction. More of the way her body teases mine, every slick slide sending lightning straight down my spine. My pulse stutters, wild and uneven.
Her lashes dip, her head tipping back just enough to expose the delicate line of her throat, water gliding over her skin like liquid silver. She’s luminous. Alive. Unraveling me completely.
A rough groan tears out of me. “Fuck, Wren.”
Her gaze drops to mine, cheeks flushed, eyes dark with the same hunger eating me alive. “Your turn,” she murmurs, but her hips don’t stop. They keep rolling, tortuous and ruthless.
My turn?
Shit, I don’t even know what planet I’m on anymore.
I blink, trying to claw back some semblance of control, but there’s nothing left. Justher.The heat of her body. The hitch in her breath. The way she moves over me and against me like she knows exactly how close I am to snapping.
Every rational thought I’ve had has left the building. I’m not functioning anymore—I’m reacting. Reacting to the glide of her skin, the needy little sounds she’s trying to swallow, the way her fingers twist in my hair.
I pull back just enough to look at her.
Her eyes are bright, wild—electric blue and heavy-lidded. Her hair’s sticking to the sides of her neck, damp and curling from the steam, beads of water catching against her collarbone. Her lips are parted, her breathing shallow. Every inch of her is lit up.
And God, I want to memorize this version of her. Not the one she shows the world. This one. Unfiltered. Wanting.
“Kiss me,” I murmur, my voice low.
Her gaze snaps to mine. “Is that a dare?”
I shake my head once. “No, Wren. It’s just me. Me wanting to be ruined by you.”
