Page 197 of Wild Then Wed
She lets out a soft, satisfied hum. I trail my fingers along the inside of her thigh, catching the warmth there, sliding it gently back into her. She gasps, her hips jolting just slightly, and I can’t stop the smile that tugs at the edge of my mouth as I press it to her skin.
I lean in, my lips brushing the curve of her ear, my voice low and steady.
“Tonight,” I whisper, “when we’re at that gala and everyone’s watching you—thinking about you—I want you to remember what’s still between us. Remember who’s still inside you underneath that dress.”
Her breath catches hard, and I kiss her again, slow and possessive, before tugging the strap of her dress back over her shoulder.
“I’ll clean you up,” I say against her collarbone, pressing one last kiss there. “Then we’ll go.”
She’s still perched on the edge of the vanity when I come back from the bathroom with a warm washcloth, right where I left her—legs swinging gently, hair tousled, the hem of her dress bunched high on her thighs. There’s a softness in her gaze when she looks at me. Something quiet and open. Like whatever she sees in me, she’s already decided to keep for herself.
I kneel in front of her, my hand finding the curve of her calf as I press the cloth to her skin. She shivers slightly at the warmth of it, a trail of goosebumps rising along her thigh. I move slowly, carefully.
I don’t think I’ve ever had someone look at me the way she does, at least not in this phase of my life. Not with expectation, or because they wanted something from me. Not with pity. She justseesme. And chooses to keep seeing me.
And I love her.
I don’t know if I was supposed to. A few months ago, I would’ve told you love wasn’t in the cards for me anymore. That whatever part of me used to love like this—freely, fully—went up in flames with everything I lost.
But she found something worth saving in the ashes. And somehow, so did I.
And now I love her in this quiet way. Not the kind of love that crashes into you—but the kind that builds itself, brick by brick, until one day you look up and realize it’s become a place you live in.
I love the way she sees the world. I love how patient she is with animals and how unsure she is with people. I love her handwriting, and how she tries to hide her soft heart behind dry jokes and sideways glances. I love that she talks to Hank like he’s a person, and that she listens when I speak because it matters to her. I love that she lets me in, even when it costs her something to do it
I didn’t think I’d get to feel anything like this again. I didn’t think I’d want to.
But then there’s Wren. And now, every part of me that went quiet—every piece I thought had closed for good—wants to crack wide open just to let her in.
I don’t know how this ends. But if there’s a version of my life where I get to keep her—where she’s still mine tomorrow, and the day after that—I’ll take it without hesitation.
Because liking Wren Wilding feels like a choice I get to make.
But loving her?
That feels like breathing. Like something my body was built to do.
Her voice is quiet. “Sawyer.”
I look up. “Yeah?”
She swallows. “I like you.” A pause. “Like…a lot.”
It feels like someone reached in and wrapped their hand around my heart, holding it just tight enough to make it hard to breathe.
I stand, slow and steady. Her knees are a little knocked together, her hair falling forward like a red curtain. I sweep it over her shoulder and lean in, brushing a kiss against the skin there—warm and freckled and hers. “I like you a lot too, Wren.”
I should tell her. I should just fucking say it. That I love her. That I’ve been walking around with it sitting in my chest like a secret too big for its box. This heavy, undeniable thing that’s been lodged in my chest that’s been waiting for the right moment to break free. I think about saying it now. Just letting it slip out and fill the space between us, because it belongs here. With her. With us.
But I don’t say it.
Not because I’m unsure. It’s the surest thing I’ve felt since I lost everything.
I just don’t want the first time she hears it from me to be in a hotel room after I’ve fucked her on a vanity because I have no self-control apparently and couldn’t wait another minute to get my hands on her. Even if that’s exactly what happened. Even if I’d stay in that moment forever if I could.
One day soon, I’ll tell her. But not like this.
So I say what I can.
