The Drift (Preacher Brothers 3)

She had been placed in my life in a fucked-up way, but this was all fate. This was fucking destiny. I assumed I fucked up any chance of ever being redeemed, that all my bullshit, all the illegal shit I’d done had crossed out any chance of ever being happy, of ever being with someone, of having the kind of thing Dom and Cullen did with their women.

But then here was Zoey, and shit, I was even luckier than them. She saved my life in more ways than one.

I wouldn’t let her go, even if it was the best option for her, for her life. She didn’t need to get involved with a family full of professional thieves. She didn’t need to have her life turned upside down because of me.

But she already had, and she stayed by my side.

The images of her on top of me played through my head. I’d never seen a woman more beautiful than Zoey and knew I’d never see one again as long as I lived.

“I’ve never felt this way about another living soul,” I said, those words softly muttered as I let my gaze roam over her face, taking in every part of her, engraining it in my memory.

“Me neither,” she whispered, and I closed my eyes, resting my forehead against hers and inhaling deeply. I didn’t want to breathe oxygen. I just wanted to breathe Zoey.

The air around us was so damn charged that I felt it move over my skin, lifting the short hairs on the back of my neck.

“Wilder,” she whispered, and I swore nothing had sounded so very good before.

“You sure you want this?” I asked, wanting her to be sure, because once we started, once she gave herself over to me, there really was no going back.

Fucking liar. There was never any chance of her escaping you from the very beginning.

“I think we both know the answer to that, Wilder.”

Yeah. Yeah, we really fucking did.

Zoey was feminine in every single way, from the fact that she was a foot shorter than my six-three height, to her lush curves that were the opposite of my brute force and hardness. Hell, she was fragile in comparison. And that was made abundantly clear as she sat on my lap, as I felt every gorgeous inch of her pressed to me.

No one will ever know how she feels except me.

She looked down at my mouth, and I could have groaned at the desire on her face, so prominent and all for me.

The air was so hot, so charged between us, and we didn’t speak for long seconds. That was because nothing needed to be said. We spoke with our touches, our gazes. I heard everything she wanted and needed just by listening to the way she breathed.

She was meant for me. I was meant for her. It was as simple as that.

And all I could do, all I was able to do, was breathe in Zoey’s scent. There was nothing more addicting to me than that. Not the thrill of a job, and not the rush of getting away with a crime. Not even taking those celebratory shots after we knew we got away with a big heist.

Nothing compared to her.

I was so high from the feelings she conjured up in me, by the look in her eyes, by the fact that she was going to give herself over to me.

My cock was hard, the fucker pressing against my pants, demanding to be out and buried between her lush thighs, to feel how wet and hot she was, how tightly she’d strangle my cock.

And the way she looked at me, her expression telling me without her having to say one damn word that she wanted that so fucking badly too, was my undoing.

I knew I wouldn’t let her go when I first woke up and saw her stepping out of the bathroom. I knew she’d be mine as the minutes turned into hours turned into days. But now, once I had her, connecting with her in the most physical way two people could… there was really no going back.

Chapter Nineteen

Zoey

He was hard… everywhere. And I felt that desire between my thighs so strongly I couldn’t catch my breath. If I wasn’t sitting on Wilder’s lap right now, his strong arms keeping me close, I could have passed out from the high alone.

I wasn’t going to think about the repercussions of being with Wilder, that giving myself over, surrendering fully, would absolutely throw a wrench into what the future held.

This was crossing lines.

This probably wasn’t “right,” given my situation. But I didn’t care, because it felt too good.

I stared into his eyes, the lights low, the air around us electrically charged. I couldn’t breathe, the oxygen being sucked out of the room, so I felt lightheaded, deprived. But that depravation was being made up tenfold by the pleasure I felt.