The Dangerous Jacob Wilde

“Even worse.”

She slid her hands up his naked chest, loving the feel of his skin, the silkiness of the dark hair across his sternum, the strong beat of his heart.

“We had linoleum in the kitchen when I was growing up. Not green. Pink. We had pink everything. Walls. Rugs. Bathroom.” She smiled up at him. “But I got even. Every single thing in my apartment, walls to floors to furniture, is white.”

“Aha.”

“Aha, what?”

“Aha, that explains old man Chambers’s bedroom.”

“My bedroom,” she said softly.

“Damned right,” Jake said, his voice a little rough.

Addison locked her hands at the nape of his neck. She could feel the very edge of his scar under the tips of her fingers. She wanted to slip behind him, press her lips to the scar, but she knew better.

Jake hadn’t mentioned it again.

Still, she knew it was some kind of concession that he hadn’t put on his shirt when they finally left the bed, especially since he had not once removed the black patch from his eye.

He was hurting. Not outside. He was hurting inside and she hurt for him. It was a helpless feeling, not to be able to do anything to help.

“Such deep thoughts,” he said, brushing his mouth gently over hers.

Somehow, she managed a quick smile..

“Chartreuse linoleum will do that every time.”

“I agree. So, how about we eat something fast so we can get out of this room just as fast?”

“A brilliant plan, Captain. What would you like?”

He gave a soft, sexy laugh. She blushed again and he drew her even closer and kissed her.

“I’m serious, Jacob.”

“So am I,” he said, and kissed her again.

The kiss went on for a long, lovely time. Then Addison stepped out of his arms and opened the fridge.

“Let’s see—I have some cheese….”

“Excellent. I’ll make us those fried cheese sandwiches.” When she looked over her shoulder at him, he raised his eyebrows. “What?” he said innocently. “You’re not in the mood for fried cheese?”

“Tell me you made that up.”

“It’s an old Wilde recipe.”

“I bet your sisters would disagree.”

“Well, okay, it’s an old Wilde Bunch recipe.”

She laughed. “You, Caleb and Travis? The Wilde Bunch, huh?”

“That’s what the town called us.” Jake tucked his hands into the rear pockets of his jeans and admired the delightful shape of Addison’s backside as she bent to the bottom shelf. “Although, to be accurate, fried cheese is Trav’s specialty.”

“Thank goodness for small favors,” she said, pushing a couple of small containers aside.