Going Wild (The Wild Ones 2)

His forehead drops to mine as he releases a shaky breath, and my legs wrap around his waist as he visibly strains with effort. I feel stretched and surrounded, completely under his control as he curls around me, drawing back just a little and thrusting forward again.

He releases a tortured sound, and I grin as my nails rake across his back lightly.

Without useless words, he starts moving inside me, and my eyes roll back in my head as he kisses a trail from my neck to my lips before searing me with a mind-numbing kiss, all while his hips roll and put some really incredible pressure on my clit.

It’s not the frenzied, uncontrollable sex I expected. It’s slow, sensual, almost as though he’s worshiping my body with his. Each movement is calculated, drawing out maximum pleasure as he slowly sends me closer and closer to that edge.

My mind is mush. Absolute garbled mush.

One of his hands slides down my leg, lifting it higher around his waist as he starts fucking me from a new, even more mind-mushing angle.

He breaks the kiss, his head coming back as he stares directly into my eyes. It’s almost a tangible crackle of something between us in that moment. An artist would capture the souls in our eyes at this exact second in time, paint two people far too different to be so lost to each other.

The hues and shadows would bring to life the romance, hiding our obsessive tendencies so it’s even more romantic. There’d be a realness to it, while also an edge of fantasy.

His hand goes to my hair as his hips start thrusting more insistently, his rhythm growing speed and force. The added pressure along with him so deep inside me is all I can take.

I cry out, my eyes screwing shut as that heat and pressure coasts over me with tingles and sensation, my release so powerful it drains every ounce of energy I have. Everything on me wants to shudder, even as he starts fucking me harder, drawing it out as he chases his own.

My eyes lazily open, just in time to see his jaw clenched, his eyes full of fire, and his body strung as tight as possible before he suddenly stills, then thrusts in again.

Every muscle in his arms relaxes as he struggles to say upright, and his eyes roll back in his head before he drops exaggeratedly to my body, causing me to do that damn giggling thing again.

He starts kissing my cheek, slowly moving to my lips, and I run my hands through his hair, drawing him closer until our lips collide in a lazy kiss.

“So much better than I thought it could be,” he murmurs against my lips.

My heart is doing the fluttery thing it tends to do around him.

It’s doing that thing where it’s trying to latch on once more.

Then again, I’m not sure if it ever let him go. What now?

He pulls out of me, and I watch as he staggers to the bathroom. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll be ready to go again,” he calls over his shoulder.

Then…I giggle again.

For fuck’s sake.

“Then I need a shower so I can stop smearing dried mud all over your fancy bed,” I say with a respectable, non-giggly tone.

“I have more sheets,” he calls from the bathroom.

Just as I enter, he’s about to walk out, and he grabs ahold of both sides of the doorframe, blocking me as he towers over me and smiles down at me like the wicked wolf.

I might as well get that boob tattoo. He’s going to be the death of me.

Trying to seem impervious to the super strength sex appeal, I duck by him, head to the shower, and…squeal like an idiot when he’s suddenly lifting me off the ground, his front pressed to my back. I start laughing when he carries me into the shower and turns on a spray of ice-cold water.

I’m still laughing lightly when it starts to warm up and his mouth comes down on mine, kissing me stupid even as we both smile like idiots.

It turns into a really dirty shower. Yeah, I’m still lame like that.

Chapter 17

Wild Ones Tip #491

Sometimes people think our crazy is contagious.

Just know the effects aren’t usually permanent.

LIAM

My arm stretches out, reaching and reaching for Kylie…until I touch the edge of my massive bed and realize she’s not anywhere on the cold side of the mattress.

Darting awake, I look around, seeing her boots gone.

Pushing the covers off, I start looking through the house, calling out her name. Of course she’s gone.

Groaning, I run a hand through my hair.

I really thought after last night, she was mine. Which is stupid, because I knew it wouldn’t possibly be that easy before I ever moved out here.

There’s no note, and she doesn’t have a number to call.