Wilder

As if he could read my thoughts, he turned and saw me. The tension between us was palpable, holding us together from dozens of feet away.

But he crossed the distance, and the tension didn’t dissipate, just grew until I thought my chest might burst.

“Leah.” He said my name like a prayer, a plea for something I didn’t know if I was capable of giving. And, after that exchange with his brother, I wasn’t sure I was even worthy of the tone, not when I’d accepted the card.

“Hey,” I answered, turning my back to the railing as he stood in front of me. “Look, I just had—”

“Wait,” he interrupted. “Can I go first? You got to talk last time.”

I nodded.

He stepped forward and caged me in his arms with one hand on either side of my body. “I told you that I know what I want, and that I’d let you think. But it’s not fair for you to make choices without knowing all the facts.”

“Okay,” I answered, my voice barely a whisper. God, did he have to smell so good? All saltwater and sand, and sandalwood and Paxton. They should bottle it and sell it. Scratch that. The female population would have been way too disadvantaged.

His eyes locked on mine, the moon reflecting in the blue depths, the intensity there as fierce as on the half-pipe, or when I’d seen him above me after I fell. “You said you took advantage of me, that you forced me into kissing you back because you’re my tutor, like that puts you in a position of power.”

“Maybe,” I answered, my cheeks heating.

“Well, I’m here on my own feet, chasing you, pursuing you. Not vice versa. I don’t know what’s happening between us, but I’m also not stupid enough to dismiss it without exploration.” One of his hands palmed my cheek, both soothing and electrifying me in one motion. “If we’d been alone on that beach when you kissed me, I wouldn’t have held back, wouldn’t have had to think about what you wouldn’t want in the public eye.”

He dragged his thumb across my lower lip, and I kissed it lightly, unable to stop myself.

He sucked in a breath. “I would have kissed you exactly as I’ve been fantasizing about since the first second I saw you standing on this balcony, all wide-eyed and beautiful.”

“Paxton,” I whispered, leaning in to him. His words melted me, made me want things like his mouth, his hands—things I couldn’t have, like his heart.

“I would have kissed you like this.” His mouth took mine, open and hungry, his tongue—sweet mercy, his tongue—slipping past my lips to stroke, explore, and savor, igniting a fire within me. I pressed at the same time he pulled, bringing our bodies flush against each other, and the fit was electrifying.

He tasted better than I imagined, all dark chocolate and mint.

His empty hand tunneled through my hair to the back of my head while mine wound around his neck, desperate to get closer, to take this one chance I had to not only taste but experience him. Over and over, he brought our mouths together, one moment gently sucking on my lower lip and the next sliding his tongue along mine. He’d caress my mouth gently, then plunge in possession, a blatant ownership that made my thighs clench, my stomach burn.

The man kissed like he rode—with a single-minded focus that made everything else in the world pale in comparison—and I could only go along for the ride.

He made me feel consumed yet empty, desperate yet sated all in one moment. Screw the sports documentary, he should make one on how to properly kiss a woman and save millions of clueless men.

My fingers dug into the muscles of his shoulders as his hands moved to my ass, squeezing and lifting me against his impossibly hard stomach with a groan. “Fuck, Leah. You have the most incredible ass,” he groaned against my mouth, sending bolts of pure, dizzying lust spiraling through me. “All soft curves and perfect in my hands.”

I whimpered when our mouths met again, the kiss taking on an edge that had me arching against him, exploring the ridges of his teeth with my tongue before he sucked it in. In that moment I was Paxton’s, and it was glorious.

He broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against mine as his breath came in hot blasts against my swollen lips. My breathing was just as ragged. He lowered me to the ground, my belly grazing his erection. He hissed and put a few precious inches between our bodies.

Paxton Wilder wanted me.

That fact was just as consuming as his kiss. Imagine sleeping with him. Or don’t. No. Not yet.

His hands were gentle on my face as he kissed me sweetly. “That’s how I wanted to kiss you, Firecracker. That’s how I plan on kissing you from now on if you tell me yes. I want this. I want you—us.”

Say yes! Yes! Yes! My sex-starved body screamed at me, demanding I acknowledge that basic need I’d slammed in a box and shoved under my bed two years ago.

But starting a relationship meant letting him see…everything, exposing myself in a way I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

“I need…” Time? To think? To jump him and test the thickness of the walls in my bedroom?

“Okay.” He answered the demand I hadn’t made. “I can give you that. I just wanted to make sure that was the kiss keeping you company in that head of yours. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He kissed me one last time and left me standing on the balcony, wondering what price I would pay for stealing whatever time I could with him. I knew he was a shooting star—too hot, too intense, too reckless for me.