Page 35 of Pretty Lethal
“Yes,” I answer definitively, as though I’m an expert on dealing with trauma. “It is.” I push against his shoulders, directing him over to the bed until his ass hits the mattress and I can climb onto his lap to straddle him. I fit perfectly against his large frame, as though we were produced from the same mold, always destined to slot together. His hands land on my hips, heat searing through the thin, satin material and into my skin as electric shocks fan out from where he’s touching. I thread my fingers through his hair, tugging him impossibly closer as I lower my face to his. I fall headfirst into the gray abyss as I murmur, “But I’ll help you along by showing you just how alive I truly am,” before covering his lips with mine and proving how alivehe makes me feel.
* * *
There’sa knock on my bedroom door as I finish applying my lipstick and smack my lips together. With a final glance in the mirror, I walk over and pull it open to find a devastatingly handsome-looking Wilder standing there.
He’s wearing navy pants with a matching jacket and pale pink shirt, and I chuckle when I notice the lime-green sneakers on his feet.
“Angel.” His voice glides over my skin like silk, eliciting goosebumps. “You’re going to ruin all my plans for tonight.”
My brows lower in confusion as he steps in to me. His eyes roam over my teal-colored dress that swishes around my thighs and molds to my hips and torso. He groans as though in pain when his eyes lift to my lips. “I’m supposed to be taking you out, but all I want to do is toss you on the bed and find out how smudge-proof that lipstick is.”
Everything inside me responds to his insinuation, and I’m half tempted to do exactly that. Who needs dates, anyway? I don’t care about being wined and dined before we fall into bed.
With another sweep of my body, he takes a rigid step back, as though it’s taking all of his willpower to force the movement. “You need to get out of that bedroom right now, Angel, before I snap.”
I can’t help but smirk, feeling like a vixen at knowing how easily I can make Wilder lose complete control. I’m half tempted to push him until he actually snaps, but I’m also curious about what he has planned for tonight, so instead I step past him out of the room.
He follows me down the stairs, and when we step outside, he directs me to Hawk’s Mercedes. I raise an eyebrow in surprise. “He’s letting you take his car?”
Wilder snorts as he unlocks the car before opening my door for me. “It came with a list of rules a mile long. If there’s so much as a smudged fingerprint left behind, he’s going to come for my testicles.”
“So, no fucking in the back seat then,” I tease, earning another agonized groan.
“Angel, I’m trying to be a gentleman here. Make up for some things. At least help me out a little.”
I glance at him over my shoulder, giving him a soft, genuine smile. “I guess I can try.”
“Thank you. Your compliance is noted and appreciated.” He leans in to whisper, “And will be rewarded later.”
I know he can see the heat flashing in my eyes and based on the strangled noise that escapes his throat, he doesn’t miss the way my thighs clench together before I practically drop into the passenger seat.
Closing my car door, he rounds the hood and climbs in behind the wheel. Starting the engine, we drive down the street.
“Where are we going?” I ask as he navigates through the city streets.
He glances over at me before reaching out to bop me on the nose with his finger. “Patience, Angel.”
Smothering my laugh, I roll my eyes as he focuses back on the road, and several minutes later, he pulls up to the curb. I glance around the quaint street filled with boutiques, most of which are closed at this hour, as he gets out and moves to open my door.
Once he’s helped me out of the car, he keeps my arm tucked in his as he leads me across the street. That’s when I notice the bookstore with its lights still on, the warm glow lighting up the pavement outside.
“You brought me to a bookstore?” I question as Wilder reaches forward to pull open the door.
“I brought you to a bookstore.”
Thoroughly confused, I follow him inside. He leads me past bookshelves toward the back of the room, where a buzz of chatter can be heard.
“What is this?” I ask when he steps past the final bookshelf, and the room opens up to allow for comfy seating. Armchairs, small sofas, and beanbags are interspersed, with a stool perched in the center at the front of the room. I notice a sign to one side announcing that they have readings performed by authors once a month, and I gasp when I see who tonight’s author is.
“Oh. My. God!” My jaw drops open as I turn to gape at Wilder. “You didn’t!”
He smirks, clearly pleased with my reaction. “Do you like it? We can leave and go grab dinner or something if you prefer.”
“Hell no!” I squeeze my arm tighter around his, terrified he might try to drag me out of the bookstore. He only laughs as he scans the room. A number of the seats are taken, but there are still plenty of unoccupied ones. Spotting a beanbag at the back corner against the wall, he walks me over to it and drops down. He spreads his legs, arching a brow in a clear indication for me to sit between them.
I do, wiggling around and ignoring his sharp intake of breath as I get comfy and his heat envelops my back. “I can’t believe you did this. How did you know I liked her books?”
His arms wrap around my waist and he nuzzles against my hair. “I pay attention.”
