Wilder (The Wild Ones Book 3)

by C. M. Owens

  This is a life-changing situation for me.

  Too many questions rattle through my mind as self-doubt tries to creep in, but the nagging thoughts keep getting silenced by the soul-searing kiss.

  By the time our mouths break apart, I’m half-dazed and wholly stupid. I find myself leaning forward, but he cups my cheek, eyes on mine.

  “How long are you staying?” he asks.

  In my dreamy, half-mindless, desperate-for-more-of-that-kiss state, my super intelligent response is, “What?”

  “It’s going to be different this time,” he tells me, lips brushing mine so softly.

  “Different how?” I ask, unable to help myself.

  He pulls back just enough to keep my eyes from blurring, and his gaze stays on my mouth like he’s transfixed.

  “I’m not going to keep my hands off you. I’m going to have you all to myself. We’re going to be in the same bed every single night. I’m not going to waste a single second that you’re here,” he tells me, gaze bouncing back up to mine. “How long are you staying?”

  Why is it so nerve-wracking to tell the truth?

  Why am I internally freaking out?

  It just sounds too ridiculous to tell him I’m moving in.

  “That depends,” I tell him, licking my lips as I swallow thickly.

  “On your business?” he guesses.

  I shake my head slowly, and I steel my nerves as I grasp for the courage to answer as honestly as I can without sounding like a freak.

  “On you.”

  Well, that’s not the answer I meant to give, but it’s like coaxing the words out at this point. I’m almost dizzy with the anxiety building inside me.

  What if he rejects me? I’m in love, but Lilah just said he missed me. She knew I loved him, but she didn’t really mention him reciprocating…

  “If it depends on me, then you’ll be in Tomahawk for a long damn time,” he says on a sigh, his forehead dropping to gently press against mine as his eyes shut. “Don’t fuck with my head right now. I really can’t take it.”

  Some of that nervousness recedes once more with those words, and I feel myself smiling before I can help it.

  “That’s good, because Reese is shipping the rest of my things when she gets home. It’d make me feel stupid if I had to move it all right back out because this was too weird for you,” I tell him.

  He pulls his head back abruptly, brow furrowing as he searches my eyes.

  “Speak a little plainer, Piper. What the hell does that mean?” he asks me, almost sounding…

  Is that anger?

  Why is he angry?

  My smile falls immediately, and I swallow a fresh nervous lump in my throat.

  “I’m pulling a Liam and chasing a Wild One. I plan on staying in Tomahawk for as long as you want me here, minus the occasional business trip.”

  That’s about as plain and blunt as I can put it.

  He goes rigid against me, and I prepare myself for the likely crash before the burn.

  “You’re moving here?”

  “Well, I’m moving into Gran’s cabin, but yes,” I babble, only getting a silent stare in return. “I like the town, and I like the people. The quirk and charm is nice and stuff,” I ramble on, trying not to sound like I’m some sort of obsessed stalker, now that I think about it.

  “You’re moving to Tomahawk?” he asks again.

  Since I can’t seem to get any more words out, I just give an overly enthusiastic nod.

  His lips crash to mine during one of the nods, and relief swarms me once again. Holy freaking emotional rollercoaster. It’s hard as hell to tell someone you’re in love with them. Someone should have warned me about that.

  I still haven’t even gotten that far yet. At this rate, it could take longer than a day.

  I decide to simply enjoy the fact he’s kissing me like he’s pleased, his hands running over me…instead of his feet running out the door.

  He breaks the kiss abruptly, one of his hands tangled in my hair, the other cupping my cheek as he stares at me once more.

  “You’re staying?” he asks once again, as though he needs affirmed.

  “Why is that so hard to believe?” I ask, refusing to look away from his intense gaze.

  “Because it’s been a shit month. It’s damn hard to believe that you’re even here right now, let along telling me exactly what I want to hear. If this is a dream, I’m going to hack down a lot of fucking trees when I wake up,” he tells me, making zero sense on that last part.

  It’s the most random threat I’ve ever heard.

  “If it’s a dream, then I’ll still be booking a flight and driving to Tomahawk tomorrow,” I assure him, which only gets me kissed again.

  This time, though, that desperation is there. His hands move over me like he doesn’t know what to touch first.

  We kiss until I’m wrapped around him and gyrating my hips, searching for friction, because kissing just isn’t enough anymore.

  Our lips break apart, and he pants for air as his forehead presses to mine again.

  “What’s under the fucking robe?” he groans.

  I note that his hand his most of the way up the side of my bare thigh, touching my bare ass.

  “Ideally, my fool-proof seduction gimmick,” I deadpan.

  He reaches between us, ripping the tie open on the robe, and he leans back as he shoves the robe off my shoulders, revealing the yellow dead raccoon flag that I stitched into a makeshift dress.

  It’s not flattering to the form, but it was sort of a symbolic thing more than anything. I was going to be wearing it as I told him I was moving to Tomahawk…back when I thought I’d be brazen enough to pull that off.

  His lips curve in a slow grin, and he lifts me off the counter.

  After dropping me to my feet rather abruptly, much to my surprise, he spins me, and his hand shoves at my back, forcing me to bend over the counter.

  His body presses against mine from behind, his hand reaching between us to start undoing his jeans. His knuckles brush my ass, and I track his progress by sound and touch, as my heart beats loudly in my ears.

  It doesn’t take much for him to turn me on. Maybe because I’ve spent a month fantasizing about scenarios similar to this and now it’s coming true.

  His lips brush my ear, and his voice is gruff when he says, “I’ve spent a lot of time feeling like shit for not realizing all the times you wanted me to touch you,” he says quietly as he pulls my hair to the side, his fingers skating across the back of my neck.

  My breaths grow shallow and shaky, because this is even better than my fantasies, and we haven’t even done anything yet. I forgot what sort of reactions he can elicit with minimal touch and just the exciting build-up of anticipation.

  Well, I didn’t forget it; I just assumed I was romanticizing our bottled-up chemistry to the extreme.

  Nope.

  It’s just extreme.

  “Then you go and tell me you’ll stay for as long as I want you,” he murmurs, the sound of his jeans clapping the floor resonating behind me. Another chill wracks my body. “I hope you make good on that promise.”

  He pulls a condom up that I see from the corner of my eye, and he tears open the wrapper using his teeth.

  “I-I will,” I stammer, unable to really think much, let alone form words and stuff.

  Once he’s finished that task, I feel his knuckles brush my ass through the flag material again, and I tremble once more.

  His arm circles my waist, and his lips get so close to my ear I can feel the heated tickle of his breath when he speaks again.

  “I don’t think you know what you’ve signed on for yet, but I’m going to make it fucking worth it,” he says as his lips brush my ear.

  The flag dress gets shoved up on my hips, and he gently kicks my legs wider apart in a quick, almost startling way that ratchets up all that anticipation that much more.

  His fingers drag down my pelvis until they tease me where my body really doesn’t dese
rve to be teased, skating just close enough to pry a whimper out of me.

  He groans as his forehead presses against the crown of my head, his grip tightening and loosening over and over, as he slowly pulls his hand down.

  “You really fucking want me,” he notes.

  I blush, because it’s embarrassing how ready I am just from the kissing and mostly innocent petting.

  I feel the tip of him bump against me. It’s the only warning I get before he thrusts in and buries himself deep inside me. He glides in so easily, stretching me, feeling like everything I wanted to feel just from one single stroke.

  It’d be really embarrassing if I had a premature orgasm after all that build-up.

  I’m not sure what sound I make, because my body is too busy enjoying the feel of his and drinking in the guttural sound he makes. He shudders behind me, his grip tightening again on my hip as he keeps his head pressed to mine.

  “You’re mine now,” he says like it’s both a sweet warning and a delicate promise.

  He cups my chin, turning my head as his lips find mine, and he starts a slow, agonizing rhythm.

  My hand slides over his that’s on my hip, and my fingers lace over the tops of his, digging in as well, needing something to grab onto. My other arm stretches behind me to loop around his neck so I can deepen the kiss.

  His hand drops from my chin, snaking around my waist until his fingers find the one spot that sends my body spiraling toward that edge with lightning-quick speed.

  His hips clap against my ass when he gets more aggressive, and he breaks the kiss, forcing me farther down on the counter.

  In the next instant, I’m crying out, because it’s all too much and it’s been too long, and it feels so much better than I remembered. I forgot how connected we are like this.

  It’s why he pulled back.

  It’s why I pulled back.

  It’s almost overwhelming now, whereas it was a smaller flame when I left.

  It’s explosive when the orgasm crashes through my body with very little mercy, wringing out each and every sensation it can dig up. My knees go out, but he keeps me up.

  His hips move faster, driving in and out of me as a few sexy grunts escape his restraint.

  My hand slaps the counter, trying to help with some of my weight, but it’s no use. He’s only dragging out all those sensations, leaving the ebbing tides cresting for longer and longer and—

  He stills inside me, staggering into me at the same time, as his own knees seem to give out. His hands drop to the counter, as his entire body shudders, and he seems to struggle to stay on his feet as he breathes into my neck in heavy pants.

  I grin to myself, my cheek pressed to the counter by this point, as I do all I can to regain my composure, to no avail.

  “Fuck,” he groans against my neck, only causing me to smile wider. “That’s what happens when you go and disappear for a month and then show up without warning,” he says like he’s griping. “I couldn’t hold it back for any longer.”

  “Do you hear me complaining?” I ask, my voice breathy and a little quiet, as I struggle to make my limp limbs reach their full potential.

  “I just need some recovery time, and we’re going to do that again. And again. And again,” he tells me, running his lips over my shoulder as he wraps his arms around my waist and hugs me to him.

  “I remember you saying something similar one time. You left me hanging and didn’t keep your word, if I recall correctly,” I remind him, still stupid-grinning like I can’t help myself.

  “That was when I was holding back. I’m not holding back anymore,” he assures me, pulling out of me abruptly.

  He turns me, and I stumble against him, still weak-kneed and starry-eyed.

  I never even knew he removed his shirt, but my hands run up his chest as I kiss his firm pec.

  He lifts me again, and I’m happy to wrap my legs around him, since I’m not convinced I can walk and stuff.

  He kisses me, discarding the condom as we go, and I shake my head at the die-hard bachelor who doesn’t have an ounce of shame. I’m so in love that it’s terrifying.

  I’m enamored with everything he does. At this point, I’m pretty sure I’d even find it charming if he pulled a Dutch-Oven on me.

  I continue to kiss his smiling mouth, feeling lighter as he carries me toward the bedroom. His forearms shelve my ass, my fingers tangle in his hair, and I crack one eye open to track our progress as we—

  A scream tears out of my throat as I break the kiss, eyes widening in horror.

  “What?” he asks, jerking like I’ve startled the shit out of him.

  “Wh-what happened in here?” I ask in shock, staring at the wall full of axes wedged in it.

  He follows my line of vision, not reacting even a little bit.

  “Oh that. Long story short, I had a tantrum,” he says as though it’s no big deal, as he lowers me to the bed.

  I can’t take my eyes off the butchered wall with chunks of wood lying haphazardly on the floor. You can see bits and pieces of the bathroom next door, and some axes are collapsed on the ground like they’ve fallen from the wall’s stab wounds.

  “How do you have so many axes?” I ask as he kisses his way down my neck.

  He sighs and lifts his head, but I’m still staring at the really confusing wall of axes. A tantrum?

  His hand comes up, cupping my chin, and he forces my head away until our gazes lock.

  “You’re wearing my flag to seduce me, and I’m all over you trying to seduce you right back,” he tells me flatly, arching an eyebrow as though I’m being chastised.

  “We just had sex. Why did you throw a bunch of axes into your wall during a tantrum?” I ask him very seriously.

  That’s hardcore—

  “Because,” he starts, releasing a heavy breath as his body presses mine farther into the mattress, his weight settling onto me like he’s boxing me in to keep me from escaping, “you were already gone before I realized I was in love with you. By then, it was too late to do anything about it.”

  I think every single organ in my body turns to mush, aside from my heart that leaps into my throat and pounds like it wants out so it can have a front-row seat to this show.

  “I don’t like feeling helpless,” he adds, his voice softer, eyes holding mine as I melt a little more into the bed, my heart hurting now. “I hate missing people. I don’t get attached easily at all. I don’t even really like people all that much, if I’m honest. It wasn’t supposed to be that fucking easy to fall for a girl I knew wasn’t sticking around.”

  His lips are on mine before I can respond to that, as though he’s kissing me to shut me up on purpose, and he tugs down the top half of the flag, freeing my breasts.

  His hand comes up to cup one, his thumb teasing my nipple in a way that has my hips arching into him.

  I’m the one to break the kiss, idly worrying about how easy it is for him to get my body stirred to the point of desperate need.

  “You love me?” I ask him, grabbing both sides of his face when he tries to kiss me again.

  He arches an unimpressed eyebrow, as though I’m rude for interrupting his seduction.

  “Is that a problem?” he asks me.

  I can’t help but notice how he settles himself more firmly between my legs, caging me in more effectively. Does he really think that’s going to make me run after I admitted moved to Tomahawk to be with him?

  “I love you too, Kai Wilder,” I tell him as my stupid smile stretches so uncontrollably wide that it’s almost embarrassing.

  He goes rigid against me for a second, his first reaction to something surprising, it seems.

  I genuinely don’t even know why it’s surprising, considering I tried baking and I—the fashionista queen—am wearing his shapeless, unflattering flag like it’s the pinnacle of all fashion.

  He pulls my hands away from his face very slowly, and with a smooth, measured movement, he lowers his head until our lips just barely touch. His hand gent
ly moves into my hair, and I’m the one to initiate the next kiss.

  It’s slower this time when we make love, because that’s exactly what it is.

  We’ll talk later. Tonight, I just want to enjoy my first real love, because I had no idea it could feel this good.

  From now on, I’ll just wear this flag when I want to seduce him. At least I finally found a secret weapon to use against him.

  He’s mine now.

  It’s more fun to be with him when I’m not dreading the days that flit by too quickly. I guess we have plenty of time to talk about the future.

  Wild Ones Tip #237

  Wild Ones are crazy by nature, but they’re competitive by choice. Stand back. This could get ugly.

  Chapter 24

  PIPER

  ********

  “I thought Killian was the axe king,” Reese says like she’s confused, deliberately not looking in Hale’s direction.

  She even brought her pregnant assistant along to help thwart any chance of being caught alone. She’s paying Sally to essentially be her shadow and never leave her side during her visit, so that Hale Vincent doesn’t get a chance to speak to her privately.

  I don’t know who this stranger is, but it’s not my sister. My sister doesn’t try to avoid boys who’ve dumped her. She likes to flaunt her stuff and make them regret it.

  She’s deliberately trying to look as unappealing as possible right now—no makeup, hair slapped up in a ball cap, prudish clothes that hide her figure, and the ugliest boots I’ve ever seen in my life.

  I’ve lived here a month now, and this is her first time to visit. It’s been…uncomfortable, tense, and awkward, to say the least.

  “He’s the axe-throwing king. Not the double-axe wood-splitting king,” Bill explains to her…sort of.

  To be honest, I’m a little confused why they’re all holding two axes. How can you chop wood with two different axes at the same time?

  When you ask a Wild One if they have any hobbies, you’d be surprised at how quickly they fire off a bunch of things you’ve never heard of. The list is daunting.