Page 68 of The Summer of Wild

"Then my work here is done," he teases me.

I curl into him, shivering. He grabs the comforter at the edge of my bed and tosses it over me. He snuggles against me and draws little circles on my back with his fingertips. I want to ask him if this is normal. If he does this with all the girls who welcome them into their beds. But I know the answer won't change anything.

He wants me.

He wants me here and now. So, I push all those dangerous thoughts aside and sigh.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks me.

I bite my lower lip. "I was thinking about how weird this is."

"Is it weird?"

I shift and lay my head on my arm to look up at him. "It doesn't feel weird. I just... I never thought we'd be here. It never crossed my mind. Did it ever cross yours?"

Wilder's eyebrows knit together. "I thought about it a few times but I never imagined it would actually happen."

"You thought about it?" My eyes widen in surprise.

"You're not the worst thing to look at," he admits. "Especially in a bikini."

"Thank you," I smile as I stretch beside him.

"For?"

"The mind-blowing orgasm," I guffaw as I sit up and stare down at him.

He sheepishly grins. "You should feel honored. I don't normally do that."

I can't hide the smile that spreads across my face. "Are you saying I'm special?"

His fingers find my back and he runs them along my cool skin. "You know you are."

I'm not sure what's going on with my heart, but it's going haywire beneath my ribcage. "Take your pants off."

"What?" He scrunches his face.

"I said," I laugh as I reach for the button of his jeans, "take off your pants. Unless you don't want a blow job. I am a little out of practice."

Wilder shakes his head as he unzips his jeans and shimmies them down his legs. I climb off the bed and yank them down to his ankles as he works on getting the black boxer briefs over his rock-hard dick.

I inhale sharply as his massive cock lays against his stomach. It was gorgeous in the setting sun last night. But this morning, in the daylight, it's even more glorious. Thick, long, the tip red and wet. I need it. I need it in my mouth.

"Stop drooling," he quips.

"It's," I sigh as I move closer and run my fingers over it, "beautiful."

"Don't call it beautiful," he chides me.

"Then what," I flash my eyebrows at him as I begin stroking it in my hand, "should I call it?"

"Um," he grins as he tucks his arms behind his head, "magnificent."

"Stunning."

"Exquisite."

"Delightful."

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