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I slip my sandals off and place my towel on top of them. Wilder tugs the shirt over his head as my eyes land on his toned back. I drink in his golden skin and the way his muscles constrict as he bunches his discarded T-shirt into a ball and drops it beside him. I look away and grab the hem of my white sundress, slowly pulling it up and exposing the white cotton underwear beneath. Wilder's too busy unbuttoning his shorts to pay attention to my undergarments. I probably should have chosen something slightly more risqué to wear but knowing Wilder, he's seen it all. And seducing Wilder isn't on the bucket list. I am my own. I wear what I want.
The moment I reach for the clasp on my bra, I hear a splash in the water. Guess Wilder wasn't waiting around for me to finish undressing. I remove my bra and carefully step out of my underwear, wrapping both of them up in my dress.
I stand perfectly still for a moment in the waning sunlight. A month ago, I never would have taken off all my clothes and jumped into the lake. Cash Allred's girlfriend would never. But I'm not Cash's girlfriend anymore.
I am my own.
Grinning, I run towards the end of the dock and jump off the warm wood, pulling my knees up to my chest while screaming, "Cannonball!"
My body makes contact with the cool lake water and I close my eyes tight. When my head finally resurfaces, I search for Wilder. He's floating a few feet from me.
"You're scaring the fish, Blondie."
I tread water, my skin prickling from the adrenaline. "I don't think I care."
"You used to care," he counters, "about everything."
"I spent a lot of time pretending to be someone I wasn't," I admit. "I didn't realize until now that I've spent the past couple of weeks finally being myself again. No wonder Cash dumped me. I was always trying to fit into his world. I stopped being Ingrid Winthrop and started being—"
"Ingrid With-A-Thorn-Shoved-Up-Her-Ass?" Wilder finishes.
I slap my arm on top of the water and splash him. "Shut up!"
Wilder disappears beneath the water as air bubbles float to the surface in his wake. I feel around for the bottom of the lake, but we're too far out. I can't reach it.
A hand curls around my ankle, yanking me under. I hold my breath, my arms searching for Wilder. I feel his bicep first, then his shoulder. Then, we're both drifting to the surface.
"I can't reach the bottom," I tell him as he pushes the wet hair off his forehead.
"Come on," he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me along with him. We swim several feet closer to the shore. "Can you stand here?"
My toes graze the sandy bottom. "Yeah."
He lets my hand go as I stand on both feet, the water rocking us back and forth.
We stare at each other as the sun peeks over the horizon, the sky navy and violet and periwinkle now.
His hazel eyes glow gold as the last rays of sunlight flicker against his face. He's handsome. So handsome. But he's not Cash. He's not steady or stable. He's... wild. Just like his name. He's frustrating and difficult and hard to handle.
I'm not sure who moves first, but my arms slide around his neck as his fingers caress my back and he draws me closer to him. I can feel him—all of him—against my chest and stomach and thighs as I push off the grainy lakebed and kiss him.
Chapter 16
The Trailer Trash
The water kisses my toes as Wilder's palm cups one of my butt cheeks in his hand. I'm not sure when we waded out of the water and collapsed onto the sand, but his lips are moving against mine, and his you know what is digging into my stomach and the sky is full of twinkling stars overhead.
We should rinse the tiny grains of sand off our bodies and go home. Pretend this never happened. Rewind. Go back to the second before I pushed off the lakebed and kissed him. But kissing Wilder is like stepping into a warm, steamy shower after a long day in the snow. Muggy, hot, and relaxing. I'm a little intoxicated right now by the taste of his tongue as it tangles with mine and the feel of his hands as they roam my body.
My fingers slip down his stomach and inch closer to the part of him that's rock-hard against my abdomen. Before I reach it, his hand wraps around my wrist and he inhales sharply.
"What?" I ask him as my brow creases and I wiggle on top of him, trying to pull my hand out of his grasp.
"We should, uh, we should go slow, Blondie."
I smile. "We have been building up to this exact moment since freshmen year. I'm done going slow, and you're not allowed to ignore me after this. Not like you did when we kissed."
"I... I'm still not sure if this is something we should be doing," Wilder wars with himself.
