Page 194 of Wild Then Wed
“Wren.” Her name leaves me low and rough, and I have to clear my throat to say anything else. “You’re…you’re unreal.”
Her lips twitch. “That good, huh?”
“Thatdangerous.” I take a slow step forward. “You look incredible.”
And I mean it. Not just in the way men always say it, but in the way where I’m not sure how I’m supposed to walk into a room with her on my arm and not get into a fight over the way someone else looks at her.
Because if anyone else sees what I see right now? I’m fucked.
But I’m also the luckiest man alive, because tonight, I get to bring her with me. And maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll get to keep her, too.
She steps closer, her eyes dragging over me like she’s deciding what part of me she wants to take apart first.
“You don’t look too bad yourself,” she says, her finger slipping between the buttons of my shirt, teasing the fabric open just enough to make my pulse trip.
I fucking love when she touches me. Doesn’t matter how—soft or bold, accidental or intentional—it knocks the wind out of me every single time. And the way she’s looking at me right now, like she’s already undressing me with her eyes, has every nerve in my body tightening.
“Wren,” I warn, my voice already low. “Careful.”
She just grins and does it again—slowly, deliberately, slipping her finger between another button. Her eyes flick up tomine, teasing, and her bottom lip pulls between her teeth like she knows exactly what she’s doing.
She does.
“Or else what?” she whispers.
I catch her wrist—gentle, but certain—and pull her closer. She presses against me like she’s been waiting to. Her perfume wraps around me—vanilla, and something warm I still haven’t named. It hits me low and fast, like memory and want tangled together.
I lean in, my mouth close to her ear. “Or else I’m gonna fuck my wife hard enough for the entire city of Bozeman to hear.”
Her eyes widen for a beat, but then she shrugs, pretending she’s not even a little rattled. “Guess they’ll know I married well.”
Then she turns and walks across the room like she didn’t just bring me to my fucking knees without even touching me again.
Jesus.
Her dress is going to be the death of me. You can see every perfectly toned muscle in her back when she moves. Her shoulders shift, elegant and effortless.
And her ass.
God.
Tight, round, lifted just right in that dress. The fabric hugs it like it was designed with her in mind. It dips at her lower back, then flares in all the right places. She walks in those black heels like she’s grown up walking runways, not on ranch land. One leg slides slightly through the slit in her dress and I catch a glimpse of her thigh—smooth, strong, and now all I can think about is wrapping it around my waist.
She bends to grab her clutch off the table, and it takes everything in me not to follow her over there and hike her dress up.
She stands up, clutch in hand. “You ready to go?”
I swallow, hard, and nod, forcing my arm out in a gentlemanly gesture I barely remember how to pull off. She loops hers through mine and smiles—wide, easy, her lips covered in lipstick and gloss.
I’m so fucking gone.
Not just distracted. Not just tempted. I’m in another dimension.
She opens the hotel door and takes one step toward the hallway—and I don’t even think twice about it. I just move, because fuck it.
I grab her elbow and tug her back in, catching the door with my other hand and slamming it shut with a flat smack of palm against wood. It echoes off the walls, loud in the sudden quiet.
She gasps, her eyes wide—half startled, half something else. Something that makes my pulse spike and my control vanish.
