Becoming A Vincent (The Wild Ones 1)

I stalk up my steps, into my cabin, and crash to my very uncomfortable couch as I stare up at the ceiling. At least I have work that needs to be done.

I glance into my bedroom, and I grin when I see my brothers really did rebuild my bed to the proper size. It’s even made.

I go to the bed, sigh as I pull the covers back and find fake spiders all over the sheet.

They didn’t want to piss me off too badly, or those bastards would have been real. Then I would have had to burn the bed down. Possibly the cabin too.

After cleaning it off, I get to work.

Almost an hour passes, and I already have three out of four of my jobs done for the week. I’m on a roll, when there’s suddenly a pounding at my door. A very loud, very angry pounding.

“You assholes are not getting in! You promised on the graves you’d leave me alone!”

I grab my BB gun from beside the couch, pumping it once, preparing for battle.

“It’s me. Put the gun down and open the door.”

Benson.

I glance around, wondering if he can somehow see me through the solid door. My windows have curtains blocking out the sun, keeping the glare off my laptop.

Apparently he just knows me really well, since there’s literally no other way he could know what I’m doing.

Warily, I put the laptop aside, then creep to the door and unlock it. Before I can get it all the way open, he’s shouldering his way inside.

My breath leaves in a rush as he grabs my waist with one hand, and his other hand tangles in my hair, tugging my head back seconds before his mouth finds mine.

His tongue…I think I love his tongue, I decide, when it starts doing indescribably wonderful things to mine—teasing me, taunting me, fueling me.

I moan into his mouth as the kiss grows more aggressive, and my hands slip up to his shoulders as he presumably kicks the door shut.

He starts walking me backwards, still devouring my mouth, and I clutch him closer, drinking him in just as hungrily.

Maybe I read the situation wrong this morning, because this does not feel like a guy who regrets telling me he wanted me.

He lifts me, moving toward the bedroom, then pauses when he breaks the kiss.

I take the chance to breathe and look at his face. I’m so glad I can finally see his face, because those lips are perfect. I really love those lips.

“They fixed your bed,” he says, causing me to blink and try to get some senses back.

“Yeah,” I tell him, sounding breathy and girly at the same time.

He looks around warily. “Did you check under the sheets?”

“Fake spiders. They’re gone.”

He nods, still looking around.

“What about under the bed?”

“Nothing there.”

“You’re sure?”

I reach up and grab a handful of hair on the back of his head and drag his mouth back down to mine. He groans, and his hands go back to gripping me and walking me backwards.

My knees touch the bed, and he starts lowering me to it. We slide onto it together as he starts tearing at my shirt.

“Get naked,” I demand, and he grins against my lips.

“Not until you tell me why you snuck out.”

I gawk at him. “Are you kidding?” I ask incredulously, causing his eyebrows to go up.

At his oblivious stare, I realize he’s not kidding.

“You came out of the bathroom, took one look at me, and suddenly you looked as guilty as I felt for eavesdropping. Then you disappeared downstairs without saying a word. I figured it was like all the times before—after you woke up from being drunk, where you regret getting handsy, only this time you also confessed something you didn’t mean.”

He studies my eyes, then his gaze rakes over my face. “You’re painfully beautiful in the mornings,” he says randomly. “Especially when you’re on my bed, looking lost and expectant.”

He blows out a breath, his lips brushing mine again. “I don’t say the right things, or you’d have been in my bed even when I had a bad beard.”

I laugh, caught off guard by that confession.

He smirks. “So I figured I’d get everyone out of the damn house and show you exactly how good this could be between us. I didn’t want to risk saying the wrong thing.”

I grin like an idiot. Oh, now I get why Delaney likes this dating thing so much. I’ve never been much of a goofy grinner until this moment.

“Well, not saying anything at all was the wrong thing too.”

He snorts, then rolls his eyes. “So I’ve noticed.”

He pushes up off the bed, and I lean up on my elbows to watch him as he tugs off his untied boots. My heartbeat gets faster as he pulls his shirt over his head, and my eyes hungrily rake over his body.