Page 9 of An Unfinished Memory

“Excuse me, sir.” Jennings was a few yards away, his concerned gaze on me. “The lady?—”

“Can take care of herself,” Wilder snapped.

My belly flipped. Wilder knew how much I hated when manly men stepped in thinking the little lady vet needed a hand with the big ol’ animal. This wasn’t the same scenario, and I appreciated Jennings watching out for me, but I couldn’t deny how well Wilder knew me.

“It’s fine.” I kept stomping in the direction of my truck. A light curtain of rain fell between us and where Jennings was standing. “He’ll eventually vote himself out of the game and give up. He always does.”

Sympathy crept into Jennings’s gaze, and he gave me a nod. He walked away.

“Low blow,” Wilder said under his breath.

“Accurate, though.”

“I’m not the one who left.”

The reminder was a serrated blade right to the left aorta. I knew why I left. Didn’t mean I had wanted to.

The rain turned into a downpour, dousing my indignation. I choked on a gasp, sputtering at the sudden deluge. I pushed my hair out of my eyes, looking for my pickup.

“Here.” Wilder wrapped an arm around me and pulled me halfway down the block. We splashed over the sidewalk. When we reached his pickup, he yanked the back door open and shoved me inside.

I accepted the refugeonlybecause the rain was so strong. I thought he’d get in the front passenger side, since going around to the driver’s side would only soak him, but he pushed inside next to me.

I scrambled across the back seat. His big, warm body was tempting no matter how wet he was. Wasn’t he going to give me a ride to my pickup?

He turned to knock water off his cowboy hat outside the cab, then shut us in and tossed his hat onto the frontseat. The smoky-whiskey-with-hints-of-vanilla smell of him clogged the cabin.

I groaned, not looking forward to a soggy mad dash to my vehicle but also knowing being locked in the pickup with Wilder wasn’t good for my determination to move on after the divorce. “This rain needs to let up.”

He twisted to face me, so close the heat radiating off him wrapped around me. “Got somewhere to be?”

“Get this—not with you.”

“Sutton, goddammit. I came to?—”

“Exactly, Wilder. We’re divor?—”

He smashed his mouth onto mine. I froze, but only for a moment. Maybe it was the chill of being soaked from the rain. Or the spike of lust I had coincidentally just as Wilder showed up. Or the emptiness that had haunted every corner of me since I walked out on him.

Regardless of the reason, Wilder was an excellent kisser, and his mouth became my only sustenance. I twined my arms around his neck and greedily licked between his lips. The familiar salty dill flavor from his favorite sunflower seeds hit my taste buds. I drank him in, and he met my tongue stroke for stroke.

He leaned me back, his blistering hands brushing up the hem of my dress.

Nothing had ever felt so right. It’d been too damn long since I’d had a non-self-performed orgasm. It’d been just as long since I’d been in Wilder’s competent, strong embrace, and I didn’t want to leave.

I widened my legs. He was half hanging off the seat, his long length cramped in the back, but he still cradled perfectly between my thighs.

He reached between us and rimmed his fingersaround the edge of my underwear. “You’re wet for me, Sutton,” he murmured against my lips.

I was wet all over, but he wasn’t talking about the rain. I whimpered my reply and rolled my hips into his hand. The roughened tips of his fingers skimmed over my pussy, and I moaned. He was so close to my clit, and I was millimeters away from sheer ecstasy.

There should have been more alarm bells going off in my head, but Wilder overrode them all. His fingers were a breath away from being in me. I didn’t care. The rain pounded the outside of the pickup, enshrouding the cabin in privacy.

He dragged a finger through my wetness. “So fucking wet,” he groaned.

When the tip of his finger hit my clit, I bucked off the seat and into him.

“Do I drive you wild, Doc?”

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