Sleeping with the Enemy (An Enemies to Lovers Collection)

Honestly? Maybe I’ve never had actual good sex before. I know Wilder and I basically just met, and there haven’t been many days between the day he first walked into the house and now, but I have this feeling that it’s going to be amazing. And not just orgasm amazing but other forms of amazing too, like chest-mushing amazing. I feel like we’re going to have this crazy good connection, and it will be more than just physical because our chemistry is going to be off the freaking charts. That maybe he came along for a reason.

All these thoughts are kind of mind-blowing for me because I don’t get sappy, and I’m supposed to be on a male diet right now—as in cut out all males in order to be healthier and happier—but this feels different.

I’m slightly scaring myself, but I need to turn my brain off because I want to do this. I’m doing this. I’m doing Wilder. It’s happening. I need to stop overthinking because it just makes things weird.

Wilder has his eyes closed, pleasure apparent on his face. I realize I’m running my hand down his shaft and back up again, methodically and slowly, while I’ve been lost in all those rapid-fire thoughts. Wilder’s face is gorgeous pinched in pleasure; his eyes squeezed shut. For some reason, I look above his head to the wall behind the bed, and suddenly, my hand freezes.

In fact, all of me freezes.

I realize I’m still hovering above him, so close that he can probably feel both my heat and wetness. I can smell myself, and I can smell him, which is insanely hot.

When I haven’t moved in the past few seconds, Wilder’s eyes pop open. “Is something wrong? We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I’m good with stopping. Don’t even worry about—”

“No,” I whisper. “It’s not that.”

“Are you okay?”

Now Wilder’s worried, and I hate that. “I’m good. I just…” I don’t point, and I don’t move because I don’t want him to freak out. I don’t want there to be a major panic, such that someone gets hurt. “Maybe you should just shift down a little. A few feet.”

“Um, alright,” Wilder mutters, inching down below me so that I’m just about riding his face again. I swear the mere thought of it sends a bolt of heat straight to my stomach, and it’s so intense that I just about get the hiccups. “This is nice. I’m never going to complain about this—”

“Just hold that thought,” I say, scooching up his chest, over his neck, and then his face. His hands try and close over my hips, but I inch away. “I mean, really hold it.” I hit the pillows, brace myself on the headboard, and reach up.

“We don’t have to keep going. I really am good with just doing what we’ve done. It was incredible.” That’s true, but Wilder sounds confused about what the heck I’m doing above his head. He hasn’t turned to look yet.

“It’s not that. It’s Hector.”

“Hector?”

“Yeah, he’s on the wall.”

Wilder snorts. “You don’t have to make things up. I really am good. Nothing is going to be awkward, I promise. I would never rush you—”

“No, he’s really, seriously on the wall,” I insist firmly.

“What?” Wilder twists behind me. With a yelp, he leaps off the bed so sharply that I nearly get a rocket ride straight into the wall. “Holy beans and toast. He really is there. J Murphy and a pile of style, we were on the bed…I was underneath him. He could have…fallen onto my face or leaped on me.”

“I think he’s more into watching than creating a threesome.”

“Dear god,” Wilder says in a crazy high-pitched voice. “Now I’m thinking about kinky spider sex, and it’s horrifying. One. Hundred. Percent. Horrifying.”

“Okay, on that note…” I reach up and curl my hand over Hector, helping him into my palm. He crawls in willingly, and I draw him in against me. “Uh, I’ll be right back. I just have to go upstairs and put him back in his tank.” Wilder is standing at the foot of the bed. Things just went from really strange to really awkward. “I’m coming back,” I state flatly, my face heating up because I’m doing this all naked, and it’s just so bizarre. “If you want me to.”

“I want you to,” he confirms.

“I’m sorry all these random things are happening, making this extremely strange.”

“That’s okay. Strange is okay,” he mumbles feebly.

“Is it?”

“It’s going to be.”

“I’m coming back. Just give me five minutes.”

Spooky walks into the room while I’m standing there with Hector crawling around in my closed hands. It tickles, and I nearly laugh, but I think that would freak Wilder out even more, so I don’t. As I move to leave, Spooky meows at me.

“Maybe bribe the cats with tuna while I’m upstairs, or they’ll all be in here, and I’d rather not have all those sets of eyes watching me.”