Page 59 of Made for Wilde
Maybe I should leave town. Transfer to a different beauty school. Start fresh somewhere Koda isn’t. Somewhere I don’t have to worry about running into him at the grocery store or at the Piney Creek Diner.
But the thought of never seeing him again makes my stomach drop.
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the apartment. I don’t know how to exist in a world where I know what it feels like to be held by him, to be wanted by him, and have to pretend none of it matters.
A sharp knock at the door startles me so badly I nearly jump out of my skin.
I move to the door, peering through the peephole. My breath catches in my throat.
Koda.
He stands in the hallway with one hand braced against the doorframe like he’s holding himself up. His jaw is clenched tight, and his eyes are fixed on my door with an intensity that makes my knees weak even through the distorted glass.
For a moment, I just stare at him, unable to believe he’s really here. Then a second knock, more insistent this time, jolts me into action.
“Charlotte?” Koda calls out. “Open up. It’s me.”
I undo the chain with trembling fingers and pull the door open.
“Koda,” I whisper, his name a question and an answer all at once.
Koda’s eyes meet mine for a split second before dropping to take in what I’m wearing. His gaze travels slowly down my body—lingering on the outline of my breasts beneath the thin tank, the strip of exposed skin at my waist, the length of my bare legs.
When his eyes return to mine, they’re darker than I’ve ever seen them, pupils blown wide with desire.
His jaw clenches tighter, and a muscle jumps beneath the skin. The look on his face is primal, possessive, hungry in a way that makes me tingle.
“I tried to stay away.” His voice is a low growl that I feel in my bones. “I can’t.”
I take a step back, not in retreat but in invitation. Koda follows, moving into my apartment with the controlled power of a predator. The door closes behind him with a soft click. For a heartbeat, we just stare at each other, the air between us charged with electricity.
Then he moves.
His mouth slams against mine, and I melt against him, my arms winding around his neck, my body molding to his like it was made to fit there. One large hand slides around the back of my neck, the other gripping my waist as he pulls me against the solid wall of his chest.
The kiss deepens, his tongue sliding against mine, his beard rough against my skin. He tastes like coffee and desire and something uniquely him that I’ve been craving all week.
I press closer, needing more, needing everything. His hands tighten on me, one sliding down to grip my ass, lifting me slightly so our bodies align perfectly.
It feels like coming home. Like finding something I didn’t know I’d lost until it was back in my arms.
Koda’s hands are everywhere, urgent and demanding as he backs me toward my bedroom. My fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine.
It’s been five days since I last touched him, five days of aching and wanting, and now that he’s here, I can’t get enough fast enough. His shirt falls to the floor in the hallway, his belt by the bathroom door, his boots kicked off somewhere in between.
“I need you so bad, baby,” he growls against my neck. “So fucking bad.”
My back hits my bedroom door, and Koda presses against me, his hard length grinding against my stomach through his jeans. His hands slide under my tank top, rough palms skimming up my sides to cup my breasts. When his thumbs brush over my nipples, I gasp, arching into his touch.
“I’ve been going crazy this whole week.” His voice is rough against my ear as he yanks my tank top over my head and tosses it aside. “All I could think about was getting back inside you.”
The raw desire in his words makes me shiver.
I reach for his jeans, popping the button and dragging the zipper down. My hand slides inside to wrap around his thick length.
Koda hisses through his teeth.
He picks me up as if I weigh nothing and carries me to the bed.
