Page 94 of California Wild

He groaned into her mouth, a sound so raw, so wrecked, she swore she felt it in her spine. Her back arched, slick skin pressed to tile, every nerve in her body lighting up as he ground against her—slow once, then harder, again. His restraint was gone. Whatever thread he’d been holding onto? Snapped.

And she wanted that. Wanted all of it.

He was speaking in touches now. In the way his lips moved down her neck, in the way his teeth scraped the slope of her shoulder. Her fingers clawed at him, tugging, anchoring, needing him closer, deeper, now.

“Tell me this is real,” he growled, the words rough against her skin, his voice low and wrecked.

“This is real,” she breathed, barely able to form the words, her chest heaving. “God, Jesse—”

That was all it took.

He surged into her, pinning her between the wall and the hard, desperate thrust of his hips, burying himself with one brutal, perfect motion that tore a gasp from her throat.

She shattered.

Every part of her—mind, body, soul—gave out all at once.

“Fuck,” he groaned, head bowed, arms locked around her like she was the only thing tethering him to reality. Like he needed her to survive this. His rhythm was relentless, his breath coming in harsh, broken bursts against her neck. Each thrust drove her higher, until she could barely breathe, until she couldn’t think, until all she knew was him.

The water couldn’t cool them.

Nothing could.

Her nails raked down his back. His teeth caught her bottom lip. Her moan was swallowed by his kiss, and still he didn’t let up. Didn’t stop. Didn’t falter.

Because Jesse Navarro had never learned how to be soft with her.

Only this.

Only ruin.

Only the kind of claiming that left bruises and breathless gasps and skin too raw to forget.

“I missed you,” he choked out against her jaw. “God, Hayley. I fucking—”

His words dissolved into a groan, his rhythm faltering, his body tensing.

She was already there, already falling, everything inside her coiled so tight she couldn’t hold it. She came with a cry against his shoulder, legs trembling, body pulsing around him—and he followed, hips jerking, a deep, guttural moan tearing from his chest as he buried his face in her neck.

“Fuck, Hayley.” His voice was a snarl, hot and broken against her ear. “You think I forgot? You think I don’t dream about this?”

She couldn’t answer—not with words. Not with the way his teeth scraped across her throat, then sank into the soft curve where her neck met her shoulder, hard enough to sting, hard enough to make her gasp loud and sharp. She’d feel that later. It would burn when she touched it. And she’d remember.

His hand gripped her jaw, turning her to face him, forcing her to look straight into the fire.

His eyes weren’t just dark.

They were wild.

Unleashed.

All hunger and heat and something that went deeper than want. Something feral. Obsessive. His.

“Say it,” he breathed. “Say you’re mine.”

Her breath hitched, thighs tightening around his waist as he drove into her again, harder, deeper. Her body wasn’t hers anymore. It never had been. Not with Jesse. He ruined her. Branded her. Made her need in ways no one else ever had.

And in that moment, everything in her broke open.

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