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I’m not sure what sounds I make, but he’s fortunate I don’t tear his hair out, since I don’t even realize how hard I’m pulling until he shoves my hand away and crawls over me.

His eyes search mine as he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, just staring down at me. I feel another tear leak out of my eye, and his hand comes up, wiping it away before I can.

When he kisses me this time, it’s softer, gentler, less hurried, as though he’s slowing time down for the two of us.

I’m not sure how long we kiss, but I know it’s the deepest, most soul-crushing kiss there’s ever been.

I’ve never kissed anyone goodbye before.

By the time we end the kiss, his touch is so gentle that it’s almost feather-soft and worshipful. His lips ghost down my neck instead of devouring it, and I hear the distinct sound of a condom wrapper being torn open.

My eyes refuse to open, because keeping them shut is the only thing holding back the heavy, hot tears I’ve managed to trap. I don’t know why I can’t stop almost crying.

This is too intense.

It’s not supposed to be this way.

He was just supposed to be a fun memory.

His lips seal over mine again, and he slowly pushes inside me at the same time, spreading me inch by deliberate inch.

We move like we’ve done this countless times, as though our bodies are so in tune with each other that we know exactly what the other needs without words.

My nails dig into his back as the slow rhythm combined with his calculated movements continuously builds that crest. I whimper against his lips when I start to get desperate, digging my heels into his ass to spur him on.

He refuses.

Instead, he continues to take me slow, kissing me sometimes, kissing my neck at others.

One of his hands roams from my side to my thigh, lifting it higher to change his angle. After just a few minutes of that, I break the kiss because it’s too intense.

It’s the most intense orgasm I’ve ever felt before in my life.

It hits every nerve.

It feels like untainted bliss.

And for a brief second, I forget what this even is, opening my eyes in time to see him staring down at me, lips parted as he just watches, still driving in and out of me, drawing out my own orgasm.

Then a look of anguished pleasure creases his own features in an empowering way that will forever be seared into my mind.

He drops down, his hips stilling, as his forehead presses to mine and he pants for air. My arms slip around his neck, hugging him to me, as he coils his around my waist, holding me tightly.

I don’t know how long we stay like that until he finally pulls back to go clean up.

We don’t say a word.

He turns his back and heads into the bathroom, and I twist on the bed, pulling his sheet over me. My eyes flutter shut, and they don’t open again until I feel the bed dipping.

His arms come around my middle as he slides in behind me, and he pulls my back to his front.

If I was a fool, I’d wish we had slept in the same bed every night. My heart is stupidly falling apart without that added confusion.

My eyes flutter shut again as he kisses the top of my head, seemingly content to hold me to him. I’m too relaxed to move. I don’t want it to end just yet.

As soon as I get up, it’ll all be over.

When my eyes finally open again, it’s because there’s a heavy pounding at the door.

I startle, jolting upright in the bed, feeling his side still a little bit warm, but it’s clear he’s been missing for a bit.

That pounding resumes, and I realize someone is knocking at the front door.

Cursing, I hurriedly pull on my clothes, and I run my fingers through my hair, eyes scanning the house for him.

I’m a little surprised to find Reese on the front porch, giving me a tight smile.

“Sorry. Kai came to help me load the luggage and lock down the cabin for the rest of winter. He said you were here, and we can’t wait any longer or we’ll risk missing our flight. You can stay if you—”

She stops talking when I turn and walk over to the small table next to the door. Or maybe I simply stop hearing what she’s saying.

There’s a yellow flag with a dead raccoon on it. It’s the flag the Wilders are supposed to fly when they’re at home, even though Kai never does that. It’s a Wild Ones rule, and he doesn’t really play by many rules.

He only does it on occasion when it’s convenient.

I lift the piece of paper on it, my eyes scanning it as I read.


Tags: C.M. Owens The Wild Ones Romance