Page 187 of Wild Then Wed
Better than good.
There’s a knock at the door.
I toss on a clean T-shirt and answer it, brushing a hand through my hair. Room service wheels in the tray and lifts the lids like it’s a magic trick. Everything smells incredible. I reach for my wallet on the desk and hand the guy a tip—more than I probably need to—but he smiles wide and thanks me like I just made his day. As he backs out, I tell him “appreciate it,” and close the door behind him.
I grab Hank’s bowls and step out onto the patio by the jacuzzi. The water’s still, the sky soft and bright now. I fill his bowl with fresh water from the glass pitcher and pour a scoop of food into the other, setting them both down near the sliding door.
I’m heading back inside when I hear it. The click of the door unlocking.
It opens, and there she is—her hair down, and a puffy red jacket swallowing her entire frame. Hank bounds in like he owns the place, nose to the ground, tail wagging like a maniac.
Wren’s eyes meet mine just before Hank lunges for the food tray.
“Hank.” My voice cuts through and he skids to a halt mid-charge, ears perked. “Outside.”
He hesitates, but then darts to the glass door. I slide it open and he barrels out.
When I turn around, Wren’s standing in the entryway, cheeks pink from the chill, the faintest smile tugging at her lips.
“You cleaned up,” she says, looking around. “It looks really good in here.”
I chuckle and walk toward her, looping my arms around her waist as she toes off her sneakers. She tilts her head back when I lean down and I press a kiss to her lips—quick, warm, grounding.
She laughs against my mouth, her fingers sliding around the back of my neck.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” I murmur, my forehead brushing hers.
She shrugs, eyes dancing. “Figured you could use some rest. And it gave me time to bond with Hank.”
My chest tightens—not in a bad way. Just that quiet kind of full that sneaks up on you when you’re not looking.
I kiss her again—slow and easy—then pull back just enough to ask, “How was the walk?”
She starts to answer, her voice soft and casual, something about a park a few blocks over, but I’m not really listening. Not because I don’t care—but because her mouth is right there, and I’m only human.
I drag my lips from hers, trailing them down the line of her jaw. She tastes like cold air and something warm underneath it, like sun on skin, and I press another kiss there, then another, working my way lower. Her pulse jumps just under her skin, and my cheek brushes against the collar of her jacket. I nudge it gently to the side with my nose so I can get to the place I want—her collarbone—and I press my mouth there.
“Sawyer, are you even listening?”
Another kiss. “Mmm.”
There’s a beat of silence before she asks, amused, “What’s the last thing I said then?”
I grin against her skin. “You asked if I was listening.”
She lets out a snort that turns into a breathy little laugh. “Smart ass.”
She’s trying to sound annoyed. She really is. But her voice gives her away—lighter, higher, like maybe my mouth on her neck is making it hard to think. I kiss the same spot again, then lower, and her hands tighten slightly where they’re hooked around my neck.
God, she’s so soft here. All warm skin and quiet gasps and everything that makes me want to stay right here for as long as she’ll let me.
She shifts slightly, her fingers brushing against my chest, and then her voice cuts through the quiet.
“Wait,” she says, pulling back just enough to look at me. “Did you…order food? For me?”
I straighten. “Yeah. I figured you’d be hungry.”
Her expression flickers—something in her posture changing. A little retreat, like she’s trying to hide it, but I still see it. Her mouth pulls into a tight line, and her eyes drop from mine. “You didn’t have to do that.”
