Sleeping with the Enemy (An Enemies to Lovers Collection)

I have to break the kiss. I have to move my face away from Wilder’s. I can feel the beard burn stinging my cheeks, jaw, and lips, and also, oddly enough, I can feel it in places where the stubble doesn’t even touch—places I would like it to touch, even if wanting such a thing should be totally off-limits.

“You don’t want to do this,” I pant. “I’m damaged. Really. I have baggage, and I hate most of mankind. I mean, men-kind. Not all mankind. Just the male species. And well, not really hate. I’m just very, very wary of them.”

“It’s just a kiss,” Wilder grunts, which is so typically caveman. He isn’t a Neanderthal, and he’s not trying to belittle my experience. He just doesn’t really know anything about it.

I decide that if Wilder is a Neanderthal, then I might not mind them after all. There’s a difference between a caveman and a straight-up arsehole, at least in my books.

“A kiss is never just a kiss. It always leads to touching, which leads to hugging, which leads to um…bumping, and then bumping leads to humping, either with clothes on or clothes off, and humping leads to attachments because it’s proven that it produces chemicals in the brain that are used for bonding. And I’m pretty sure those chemicals are also released with a kiss and all that other stuff. Attachment leads to relationships, which inevitably always end up in total disappointment, and in my experience, in cheating, betrayal, and lies, so I’m also very sure a kiss is never really just a kiss.”

Wilder strokes my hair and pushes a strand back away from my face. While still holding onto me, he steers me out of the cat litter room, down the hall, and into the kitchen. To my astonishment, he sets me down on the kitchen counter and walks away from me to the fridge.

“Ummm, I thought we would talk about this.” I know I’m the one who freaked out, but now I’m quite disappointed that Wilder is doing what I wanted him to do, which is stop.

Without answering me, he pulls out a can of whipped cream. I eye it like it’s a dang weapon while Wilder slowly shakes the can. “In my experience, these things are best talked about over dessert. I didn’t buy any dessert, but this is an old weakness of mine.”

“That sounds kinky as all bacon bits.”

Wilder keeps shaking the can and then uncaps it. “Open your mouth.”

“What?” I ask, somewhat confused.

“Open your mouth,” he repeats.

“No freaking way.”

“Okay then.” He shrugs.

He holds the can above his face and sprays a huge glob over his tongue. Then, he swallows and licks his lips, and holy crap in a wrap, I think that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I can’t help but want to participate now. I should note that certain parts of me are more excited than others, as in my woman clam. She’s very excited because somehow, the whipped cream licking was absolutely sexual.

“Alright, fine.” I stick out my tongue. “Squirt away.” That sounds sexual too, but Wilder doesn’t comment on it. He shakes the can and squirts a massive dollop of the cheap, fake whipped cream onto my outstretched tongue. I swallow too. It’s sweet, sugary, slightly nasty, but totally delicious.

“Do you want to tell me about what happened to you in the past? Because I swear, I’m not going to hurt you the way those assholes did. I’d like to stick this whipped cream can up their butt for hurting you, but that would be a waste of good whipped cream, and it is far too good of a punishment for them.”

“Hmm, no. I don’t want to talk about it. Just like I said. And like my friends said at dinner. I’ve had a few bad experiences, so I don’t trust people now. Maybe women cheat on their partners just as often, but I know I haven’t, and I wouldn’t. As I’ve been on the other end of it a few times, I don’t want to go through it ever again, so it’s just safer not to get started at all.”

“That’s a very lonely way to live your life, don’t you think?”

“I have the cats. And Connie. Speaking of, you must have fed them a lot of pieces of steak because if they’re not in here begging for whipped cream, and they weren’t using the litter when I was changing it, then they’re in stasis.”

“I did, sorry.”

“That’s okay. But you shouldn’t give them human food like that. Just for future reference.”

“Okay. Want more whipped cream?”

“No. It’s horrible.”

“That’s why it’s good.” Wilder takes another shot, and I watch him swallow and lick his lips again.

Straight up dang it, I’d like to lick that nasty cream off of him. Good lord, can’t any of my thoughts sound normal right now?