Page 14 of Naughty & Nice

I’ve known him almost all my life, and I can count on one hand the number of times he’s second-guessed his actions.

He’s more of a dive-in-and-deal-with-the-consequences-later kind of guy.

The total opposite to me and Hendrix.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’ll be out in a second,” I call back.

I take a step, ready to remove myself from this situation, but Wilder isn’t having any of it.

His hand wraps around my hip, and he pushes me back against the wall.

“You need to stop this,” I demand, although it doesn’t come out as strong as I was hoping for.

“You’re lying,” he whispers, leaning in close enough for his nose to brush mine. “Every time you look at me, all you can picture is that night.”

My breathing becomes more and more erratic, and my body burns red hot.

Damn him.

“You don’t need to agree. I can read it in your body. It’s calling to me. You remember how good it felt. You want more.”

“No,” I argue, for all the good it’ll do.

His smirk turns wild, his eyes glittering with excitement.

“You’re a really shitty liar, Rebel. But do you know what I’m good at?”

I don’t respond. I can’t. I’m locked in his stare and totally under his spell again.

This is bad. Really fucking bad.

“Following through on promises. And I promise that before this trip is over, I’ll have you screaming my name.”

He disappears almost as suddenly as he arrived, leaving me slumped against the wall with my chest heaving and my head spinning.

Oh my god.

This is a disaster of epic proportions.

Grabbing my pajamas, I dart into the bathroom and have a very fast, very cold shower in the hope of banishing the lingering feelings Wilder dragged up with his little impromptu visit.

Sadly, it does very little, and I'm still a riot of emotions as I return to the kitchen, where Hendrix has finished putting everything away.

“Hey, have you seen Wilder?”

“N-no. He was on the couch.”

Hendrix shrugs. “He must have gone exploring,” he says nonchalantly. He’s more than aware of what his brother is like. Wilder wandering off isn’t anything out of the ordinary. “I’ve ordered dinner; it’s twenty minutes away.”

“Then I guess we know when he’s going to return,” I deadpan, accepting a glass of chilled white wine from Hendrix.

The second I step out of the kitchen, I release the breath I didn’t know I was holding.

I was hoping that this vacation would be the epitome of relaxation, but only an hour in and I’m tenser than I remember being in a long time.

I slow to a stop as I step into the open-plan living and dining area of the cabin, debating my options.

It might be ridiculous, but I don’t want to sit where Wilder is going to be sleeping. In the end, I opt for the chair that allows me to take in both the lights twinkling outside and the open fire that someone has already started.

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