Wild Thing (Naughty Things 3)

We breathe hard for a few minutes. Our hearts racing until they begin to slow, and then eventually her breaths and heartbeats match mine.

She sighs, reaches for my hands tucked underneath her breasts, and holds them tight.

“Don’t let go of me,” she says drowsily.

“I won’t,” I promise. “And I’ll take your deal.”

“Hmmmm,” she murmurs. And I can feel her smile. It’s like her whole body smiles. “Good. Then let’s sleep for a little bit.”

We do sleep. Several hours at least. Because when we wake up it’s very late and we’re both very hungry. We order take-out at an all-night Chinese delivery place, and eat out of cartons with chopsticks on the couch while we pretend to watch TV.

She’s wearing my t-shirt and no underwear, even though that’s all she brought. And every now and then she will position her legs and flash me with her pussy.

I don’t even think she’s doing it on purpose. She’s just… being Lyssa. The real Lyssa. Laughing, and confident. Pretty and grown-up. Nothing child-like about her now.

Nice to finally meet you, Lyssa. Wasn’t sure if you were ever gonna show up.

We don’t go back to bed until almost dawn and don’t wake again until well into the afternoon.

And lying here now, with her in bed next to me, listening as she talks about walking over to her apartment to pick up some clothes, I feel… lucky. Very lucky to have seen the real her.

The girl in the gold dress. The one who runs the world. The fearless, kicking, punching, fighting and foul-mouthed wild thing.

I think I love her.

“So what do you think?” she asks.

Well, maybe I wasn’t listening. “About what?”

“You wanna walk with me?”

“To your apartment?”

“Yup. We’re playing ‘you show me yours and I’ll show you mine.’”

That makes me kinda happy. Both parts. That she saw my place. Met the real me. And now I get to see hers. Meet even more of the real Lyssa.

“For sure,” I say. “We can walk through the park and hold hands.”

She giggles a little. Turning to face me and kiss me on the nose. “I like you, Mason.”

Oh, man. My heart is thumping and aching in the same moment when those words come out of her mouth.

It feels like the only thing I’ve ever wanted was her.

“You wanna come to Sweden with me?” I ask.

“What?”

“Sweden,” I say, reaching for her face so I can place a hand on her cheek. “To meet my mom.”

I don’t say, Before she dies. But that’s what I mean. This treatment is good. Great, really. But she’s been fighting for her life for a few years now and even though I still have hope, I don’t want my mom to leave this world without meeting Lyssa.

“I’d love to,” Lyssa says. “Yes. Definitely. For sure. When can we leave?”

I smile and kinda huff out a laugh. “Whenever you want.”

“Today?”

“Today?” I chuckle.

“We could, couldn’t we? I mean, what’s stopping us? I’ll get my passport and pack while we’re at my place.”

I know why she wants to leave today. Get as far away from her stepfather and this stupid wedding that is most definitely not happening now.

“Sure,” I say. “We should leave today.”

“Good!” She brightens. “I can’t wait. I haven’t been to Sweden in a long time.”

“I’ve only been there once and that was to drop my mom off for her preliminary tests about a month ago. I just got back the day before I met you, in fact.”

She frowns. “Why did you come back?”

“Well, for you.”

“Me?”

“Your stepfather called me while I was over there and offered me this job. It felt like… I dunno. Perfect timing or maybe… fate. I guess. Because I really needed the money.”

She scrunches up her eyebrows.

“What’s that look for?”

“He took advantage of you. He knew. I don’t know how, but he did.”

“Probably,” I say. “And I don’t know how either, but I don’t care. It all worked out because I met you.”

“Same,” she says.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO – LYSSA

We have three days. That’s it. In three days my stepfather will go back to the estate and take charge of things again. Then there will be caterers, and event planners, and a tent will go up on the back lawn, and there will be decorators, and florists, and cake makers, and all that other shit that goes with a wedding.

And a husband.

In less than a week Dickerson Worthington will be dressed in a tux, standing at the altar, expecting me to walk down it and say “I do” in front of everyone.

That can’t happen.

And I know Mason thinks I’m this tough girl. This fighter who wins all the battles.

But it’s not true. Not when it comes to my stepfather.

He will get his way. That’s what he does. What he’s always done.

It’s hard to imagine why I would give in to him. Even for me. And when I’m away, it’s fine. I’m fine. I have confidence, and I feel in control, and I am that wild girl Mason sees in me.