Page 21 of Lost in the Wild

Jaw tight, I shake my head.

“Military?” Evie guesses.

A taut nod. Hate talking about this stuff, but after this disaster of a date, I sure owe her an explanation. Even so, when I finally force myself to speak, my throat is so tight that the words barely get out.

“Served for eight years. Came home a while back, but I haven’t… haven’t been right since. That’s why I…”

“Why you moved up to the mountain,” Evie finishes for me, still rubbing my chest. It’s ridiculous how much it helps; how much it soothes me. What am I, a damn cat? “I understand. But Rowan…”

The breeze lifts her hair, dancing the red locks over her shoulders. Her scent swirls all around me, cleansing me from the inside out.

“You could still come back,” Evie says, tugging softly on a fistful of shirt. “It’s not just crowded bars or empty caves. Those aren’t the only options; it doesn’t have to be all or nothing. There’s a middle ground, you know?”

Can’t hear this right now. Can’t think about this when I’m so heart sore.

Because this was supposed to be a date. Our date.

My chance with Evie Daniels, and I blew it.

A rough sound escapes my throat when I cup her soft, freckled cheek. In another world, another timeline… I could have held her like this. Could have gripped her waist with my other hand like this, and tilted her head back like this, and pressed close until we shared the same air. When I draw in her oxygen, fresh and warm from her lungs, my head spins.

“Rowan,” Evie whispers, her skin so pale in the moonlight. Her small hand comes up to cover mine, holding it to her cheek. “Don’t give up on this, okay?”

Can’t answer that. Can’t do anything except lower my head, so damn glad that I don’t have some tangled thicket of a beard getting in the way right now. That mess of hair is in the trash where it belongs.

When our lips brush, my whole body flushes hot. My heart gives an almighty thud, and I tilt my head and kiss her deeper.

Home.

Kissing Evie feels like home.

More than my cave or my mountain or any apartment I’ve ever lived in. More than a military base or the childhood home that Tess and I used to chase each other round. More than anything.

That frigid despair spears deeper, deeper. Because this can’t last—I can’t keep her. None of this is for me, and that knowledge makes me want to beat my chest and howl up at the damn moon.

I don’t, though. Instead I walk Evie back, pressing her against the painted wall for a second time—except this time she lets me. This time she welcomes me, her arms looping around my neck and her hips pressing against mine. The stars are bright and the sounds from the bar are muffled, and every time I move, tiny rocks scrape beneath my boots.

“So perfect,” I mutter, kissing her hard. Kissing her rough. Kissing her with all the pent up hunger and frustration and bone-melting sorrow that Evie can’t be mine, not tonight and not ever. “You’re so fucking perfect, you know that?”

My words vibrate against her lips. Evie sucks in a breath and nips my bottom lip, then soothes the sting with her tongue.

“Right back atcha,” she says.

And I’m losing the thread. Time and space are slipping away, my thoughts cloudy with lust.

I kiss her again, wedging a thigh between her legs.

“If you were mine…”

Can’t finish the thought, not with Evie’s fingers weaving through my hair, tugging on the strands just like she teased me earlier. Was that only a few hours ago? Feels like a hundred years have passed since then.

“What?” Evie nudges her chin against mine. “If I were yours, what?”

Bliss sears my exhausted brain at the thought, lighting me up from the inside. These thoughts will hurt me more in the long run, but now that she’s asked, I can’t stop them spilling from my lips.

“I’d worship you.” The words are quiet, gruff, gritted out in this lonely alley as we cling together. “I’d fucking kiss the ground you walked on, Evie. Everything you wanted, I’d find a way to give it to you. Anything that hurt you, I’d crush it like a bug. And I’d take you to bed each night and remind you that you’re mine and no other’s, until your voice is hoarse from crying out and my back is striped from your fingernails.”

Evie’s gulp is audible. Her breath stutters in and out of her chest.

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