Wilder Love

by Rose, Emery

  His tongue barely touches my clit when I come apart, my hands fisting the sheets.

  When I come down from my orgasm high, Shane is watching me with a bemused expression.

  My eyes travel down his bare chest and down to that V and the happy trail that leads to… boardshorts?

  “Why are you still dressed?”

  He laughs and scrubs a hand over his face. Then he laughs even harder for no apparent reason. I cross my arms over my chest and wait for him to pull himself together.

  “It’s because I look like a double-wide, isn’t it?” I raise my brows in accusation. “I’m taking trailer trash to a whole new level.”

  “You’re insane,” he says, his gaze raking over my body in appreciation. “I love this body.”

  “Prove it.”

  Finally, finally, he takes off his boardshorts and climbs between my legs, kneeling over me. Worry creases his brows. “Maybe you should be on top—”

  I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down on top of me. “Just do your job and nobody will get hurt.”

  “You’re insatiable,” he says, guiding himself into my entrance. But just the tip.

  I growl in frustration. “You’re infuriating. If you’re not up to the job, I’ll find—”

  He shuts me up with a dirty kiss and buries himself inside me to the hilt. Now we’re talking.

  The baby must be happy that I’m happy because our little bean is having a field day in there. “I’m pretty sure he’s swimming the fly.”

  “I’m the father. What do you expect? I have strong swimmers.”

  I snort, and he hits a spot that makes me cry out. All he has to do is touch me and I detonate. It’s ridiculous. The orgasm rocks my whole body, and I feel like I’m riding a killer wave. It’s such a rush and I barely hear Shane telling me he loves me before he shudders and collapses on top of me, bracing his arm at my side to hold up most of his weight. He’s always worried he’ll hurt me or the baby which he won’t.

  He rains kisses on me and I close my eyes and breathe him in. I love this man so much. With every cell in my body. My heart is so full that some days I feel like it might burst. And those damn emotions. Or hormones. My eyes are welling up again. But Shane and I… we have been to hell and back and I’d like to think we deserve this slice of heaven.

  My eyes wander to the photos on the wall in our bedroom. The one that always draws my eye is Shane surfing a gigantic wave at Teahupo’o—the wave looks like a wall of blue-green glass and Shane looks so small in comparison. I hadn’t been able to get close enough to do the photo justice, but it’s a memory I’ll never ever forget.

  Tahiti was the first stop on our travels. The day he’d ridden that wave, my heart had been in my throat. It had taken every ounce of my self-restraint to bite back the words on the tip of my tongue. Please don’t do it. Don’t risk your life for a cheap thrill. I can’t live without you.

  But he had done it, and it had been the ride of his life.

  Traveling with Shane for those six months taught me how to live. He found his smile again. The magic and his capacity for joy came back, and every day had been a new adventure. We followed the sun and chased the waves, traveling to the most beautiful beaches in the world. We didn’t simply exist, we lived. Fully and without restraint. We loved, madly and deeply. We surfed. It really was like a religious experience. Shane prefers to think of surfing as a spiritual thing. It’s not just a sport, it’s a life choice. I felt it deep in my soul.

  Six months ago, we got married in Bali on a beach at sunset. It was beautiful. A perfect day surrounded by our small circle of nearest and dearest. Luckily, Bastian managed to fly under the radar and nobody cottoned on to the fact that he was there until the ceremony was over. Then we flew back to Costa del Rey with Dylan, and we bought our cool little coral-pink beach house. We painted the walls. Hung photos. Planted a garden. We started a business—Firefly Surfboards. It’s doing well. Shane is perfecting his craft and works closely with surfers like Cody and Travis to shape boards based on his knowledge of how they surf. It’s a real collaboration between a surfer and board shaper, and Shane loves his work. It makes him happy which is all I ever wanted for him. Money isn’t everything, but Shane is still weird about taking my money—as in, he flatly refuses to take it—so I invested my money from modeling in a trust fund for our future children. I’m still taking photos and they grace the walls of our home and the business. I’m also getting better at graphic design, and I do all the branding and social media for Firefly.

  When we found out we were having a baby four months ago, it made our life complete. Nobody will ever love this baby the way we already do. I always tell Shane that this baby will be so damn lucky to have him as a dad. He says the same goes for me. I hope so. I hope I can be a good mother. Nothing like my own. Dylan and I haven’t heard from her since he kicked her out last year. I suspect it’s because we stopped giving her money. It makes me sad that that’s the only reason she really kept in contact. But with Shane’s help, I’ve been letting it go. He said she never deserved us, and now that we’re about to become parents, I can’t understand how any mother could ever abandon their kids the way she did us.

  With another kiss, Shane pulls me off the bed and ushers me into the shower. We’re big on water conservation around here and nobody does a more thorough job of soaping every inch of my body than Shane does.

  He’s my endless summer. With his golden tan stretched over bone and sculpted muscles and his disheveled golden-brown hair falling into his eyes. I reach up to push it off his face and he gives me that chilled-out beautiful smile I love so much.

  “I love you, Firefly.”

  “I love you more.”

  Life. You never know what’s coming next. It doesn’t always go to plan but sometimes it turns out better than your wildest dreams. I’ve spent a decade loving Shane and I hope I get to spend many more decades loving him. Someday we’ll get to tell our children the story of Shane and Remy and it will be an epic story with a happy ending.

  Oh yeah, we have a cat too. Her name is Pearl. Like Pearl Jam. Or the pearl in the oyster. Whatever. She has a name and sometimes she even graces us with her presence. Shane doesn’t completely trust her, but Pearl always seeks him out first and likes to sleep on his head. I’m pretty sure I was a cat in my former life.

  * * *

  Shane

  Four Months Later

  When I enter the waiting room at Jackson Memorial, Dylan’s eyes fly open and his gaze snaps to the doorway. Even from a distance, I can smell the alcohol seeping from his pores. He looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks and his hair is sticking up all over the place. He stands up, scrubbing his hands over his face and attempts to smooth out the creases of his rumpled black shirt. It’s hopeless. He looks like he’s just rolled out of a dumpster.

  “Is Remy okay?” His concern is real and his eyes flit over my face, seeking answers. “You look like shit, man.”

  I snort. “When’s the last time you looked in the mirror?”

  He shakes his head and exhales loudly. Let’s just say he isn’t taking the news of Sienna’s engagement too well. “Is she okay?” he asks.

  I smile because I can’t help it. She’s amazing. Tired, but amazing. I’m pretty sure my hand is broken. She squeezed it so hard I could feel the bones disintegrating under her grip. She’s stronger than she looks. But it was a small price to pay and nothing compared to what she’s just gone through. “She’s doing great. It’s a boy.”

  Dylan’s face breaks into a huge-ass grin like I’ve never seen before. Dude is smiling. For real. “No shit. I have a nephew.” He shakes his head like he can’t quite believe it, his smile softer now. It’s a good look on him. “Can I see him?”

  I quirk an eyebrow at him. “After you take a shower. You smell like a distillery.”

  “Fair enough.”

  A flash of blonde hair streaks past and Scarlett skids to a halt in front of me. She hands Dylan a cup of coffee which he ta
kes from her but doesn’t acknowledge. Ignoring his rudeness, she looks at me expectantly. “Well?”

  I deliver the news she’s come to hear, and she does a little happy dance. Then she claps her hands and squeals in excitement, stomping her Doc Martens on the floor. Scarlett is not normally a squealer, but she and Remy have gotten really close and she’s been so excited about this baby you’d think she was Remy’s little sister, instead of Sienna’s.

  “You’re too fucking loud,” Dylan mutters, rubbing his temples with his tattooed fingers.

  She plants her hands on her hips and glares at him. “You should be thanking me.”

  “For what?”

  “Picking up your drunk ass and bringing you to the hospital. And I just traipsed all over the hospital to get you that coffee, asshat.”

  “Why would I call you?” he asks, his brows furrowed.

  She rolls her eyes and huffs. “Seriously? You don’t remember?”

  I watch this little exchange and maybe if my wife hadn’t just given birth I’d be interested in finding out what’s going on with these two. But right now, I really don’t care to speculate on whatever might be going down with my brother-in-law and his ex-girlfriend’s little sister who also happens to be our surfboard artist. Actually, I’d really rather not know.

  They’re squabbling about something, but I tune them out and leave them to it so I can return to Remy and our baby. His name is Kai James Wilder and he’s perfect if I do say so myself. Remy looks over at the doorway as I enter and gives me a big, beautiful smile that knocks the air out of my lungs. For a minute, I just stop in my tracks and stare at her holding our baby who’s already latched onto her breast. Greedy little guy. Like father, like son. I chuckle under my breath, but my humor evaporates, and it hits me all over again how much I love her. How much we’ve gone through to be together. In the end, it was all worth it to get to this place. We have a lifetime of love and living ahead of us and I don’t want to miss a single minute of it.

  “Firefly,” I say, my voice choked with emotion when I lean over to kiss her forehead, making sure not to disturb Kai who looks like he’s in a state of Nirvana. Can’t blame him. “You’re my hero.”

  “And you’re mine. Always. And forever.”

  Life is good. So. Fucking. Good.

  Also by Emery Rose

  The Beautiful Series

  Beneath Your Beautiful

  Beautiful Lies

  Beautiful Rush

  Standalones

  Wilder Love

  Acknowledgments

  To my daughters who put up with my crazy on the daily. A big thank you for your unending patience and your unwavering support. You and my writing give my life meaning.

  A huge thank you to my beta readers—Aliana Milano, Petra Gleason, Monica Marti, Annie Dyer and Pernilla Burton—thank you so much for your time, your thoughts, and your encouragement, and for your attention to detail. This book is so much better for it.

  Ellie McLove, thank you for the editing and for putting up with my shifting deadlines. Najla Qamber, thank you for creating this gorgeous cover. You are such a joy to work with, thank you. Thank you, Jessica Ames for the interior design and the quick turnaround. To Ena and Amanda at Enticing Journey for arranging the promotions and being so organized.

  To all the book bloggers who took the time to read and review and share, thank you so much! I appreciate you and everything you do for the indie community. To the Rambling Roses, thank you so much for all your support.

  And finally, a huge thank you to the readers. I couldn’t do this without you and I’m so grateful to each and every one of you for reading my words. If you enjoyed reading Shane and Remy’s story, please consider taking a few seconds to leave a short review. They mean so much to indie authors.

  Thank you so very much.

  Emery Rose xoxo

  Preview of Beneath Your Beautiful

  Eden

  I brushed snow off my down jacket and laughed at the inflatable Santa hanging from the porch rafters as I opened the front door. Trevor, one of Luke’s housemates, was sitting on the sofa, feet propped on the coffee table, a slice of pizza in one hand and the remote in the other. “Hey, Trev.” I took off my beanie and let my blonde hair tumble down. “Studying hard for finals?” I joked.

  He tossed the pizza in the box and vaulted over the back of the sofa.

  “Impressive. Do you do that for all the girls?” I teased.

  He ran a hand through his mussed-up hair, his eyes darting around the room, looking at everything except me. “What are you doing here? It’s Thursday.”

  I laughed. “I’m not allowed to stop by on Thursdays? Is that a house rule?”

  “You usually have class all day.”

  True. I was playing hooky this afternoon. Luke’s text sealed the deal. Ditch your next class. I need you. Now. He’d never asked me to ditch class for sex. I was so thrilled he was finally letting out his inner rebel, I practically sprinted here. “Is he in his room?”

  “Uh, no…he’s out.”

  I furrowed my brow. “He said he’d be here.”

  “Let’s go for a beer. I’m buying.”

  “I’m still recovering from last night’s birthday celebration.”

  “Hair of the dog.”

  Hangover sex would be a better cure, but I kept that to myself. “I’ll wait in his room.” I breezed past him. “Catch you later.”

  Trevor’s hand wrapped around my arm, and he tugged me back.

  “You don’t want to go up there.”

  I looked up the stairs, dread gnawing at my stomach. “Why not?” I whispered.

  “Just…don’t do it.”

  I shook off his arm and quietly climbed the stairs. As I crept down the hallway, voices came from Luke’s bedroom. His door was open a crack, and I stood outside it, straining my ears to hear.

  “When are you going to tell her?” After three years of listening to Lexie’s voice in the dark while we talked late into the night, I knew it well.

  “Soon,” Luke said. “I just need more time. I couldn’t tell her on her birthday. And with finals coming up…”

  “This is making me crazy,” Lexie said. “I feel so guilty. Every time I look at her, I feel like she knows.”

  I didn’t know. I had no idea.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  “Don’t cry, Lex. I’ll talk to her. It’s just…hard.”

  Oh God. When? How? I wracked my brain, trying to figure out how any of this was possible.

  “Do you still love her?” she asked, sniffling.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, holding my breath as I waited for the answer. “I still care about her.”

  He still cared about me? That was the best he could muster? In our senior year of high school, he’d begged me to come to Penn State with him. Like the fool I was, I had followed him to college, telling myself art was just a hobby. I could do it without the fancy degree. Not that my dad would have paid for art school. Still, I could have at least tried to get in, and I would have figured out a way to pay for it myself. But no, I had tossed the art school brochures into the trash.

  All because Luke was my first love.

  “Luke…I…there’s something I need to tell you.”

  “What’s that?” His voice was muffled. Was his face buried in her hair? Was he holding her? Kissing her? My hands balled into fists, my nails digging into my palms. I struggled to get air into my lungs. My heart hurt so much, I could barely breathe.

  “Promise you won’t get mad,” she pleaded. “It was an accident. I don’t even know how it happened. But…I’m pregnant.”

  I leaned against the wall for support. Pregnant? She didn’t know how it happened? Bile rose up in my throat. I swallowed the bitterness and squared my shoulders.

  Rage flooded my veins.

  I pushed the door open, slamming it against the wall. Planting my hands on my hips, I took in the whole scene. Luke was spooning her, and she was facing the door, a smug smile o
n her face. She was triumphant, and not the least bit surprised to see me. Lexie must have sent that text from Luke’s phone. She was the winner, and she was thrilled at her victory.

  Luke’s face was frozen in shock, his brown eyes wide, his mouth hanging open as if I’d caught him mid-sentence. The short layers of his golden-brown hair were ruffled like Lexie had been running her fingers through it. I diverted my gaze. I couldn’t bear to look at the boy I’d loved for five years. Five years.

  “Did I interrupt?” I asked, surprised by how calm I sounded.

  Luke rolled onto his back and covered his face with his hands. Coward. If their clothes strewn across the floor was any indication, he was naked under those covers. And now it became painfully clear why our sex life had dwindled over the past few months. He was getting it from someone else—my best friend.

  “Eden…it’s not what you think.” He sounded so lame, I laughed harshly. “I can explain.”

  “Save it for someone who cares.”

  I loved you. How could you do this to me? And Lexie, that backstabber, had been my roommate since freshman year. I took her home with me for the holidays because she said her parents didn’t care about her. I let her borrow my clothes. My friends became her friends, and now, my boyfriend was her boyfriend.

  My heart was shattering into so many pieces, I didn’t know how I’d put them back together. But I refused to give Lexie the satisfaction of seeing me break down. Time for action, not tears. I flung open Luke’s closet and reached inside for a baseball bat. I chose the Combat Maxum, a bat for power hitters, and came out swinging. Lexie cowered, hugging herself for protection.