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“I didn’t do much better.” He couldn’t because I was hiding. Being a coward was easier than confronting all these feelings that have consumed my mind, body, and soul.
“Truce?” I concede, even if some of this is on me as well.
“Yeah, sweetheart, truce.” Wylde’s hand slides from the back of my head down to my lower back, and even through my scrub top I can feel the heat pouring from his hand, searing my body.
SIXTEEN
Wylde
We were walkingto the parking garage when Celeste asked if she could go home and change. It didn’t bother me that she was in her work uniform. Fuck, Celeste’s body was made for it. Either way, I wasn’t going to tell her no she couldn’t change. It was a simple fifteen-minute ride to her place. I park my Bugatti Chiron next to her Audi A5 in the older but well-kept up apartment complex. It’s Vegas. The only way people will pay the obscene amount is if the living situation still looks top notch, even if it’s dated and needs some remodeling.
“You sure it’s a good idea to leave that unattended?” Is what she greets me with at the front of our vehicles. My hand slides to her lower back.
“It’s just a car, sweetheart.” Celeste arches her brow as if I should be more concerned than I am with my car in the open parking lot.
“Okay, if you say so.” I just shake my head, letting her know with unspoken words that it doesn’t bother me that the car cost might stand out along the other vehicles. It’s just a car, expensive nonetheless, but that’s what car insurance is for.
“I do. Any idea on what you’re in the mood for dinner wise?” I ask. I can feel how tight her muscles are beneath the palm of my hand, realizing we never did talk about why she was upset back at the hotel.
“Not at all. I’m not picky, though Chinese sounds delicious. Egg drop soup, the crispy beef, and lobster pho at The District is to die for. A mix of Chinese and Vietnamese food, chef’s kiss.” Celeste is animated about what she likes, a quality I can enjoy.
“Well, it sounds like we have a plan.” We finish walking to her apartment. It’s not that far away from where our vehicles are parked. There are plenty of lights leading the way, seemingly safe.
“This is it,” Celeste says, pointing to her apartment, keys hanging loosely in her hand. I take them from her and unlock the door, then stand back and watch as she walks inside.
“Your pet?” I ask after she presses two fingers to her lips and places them on the framed portrait of a dog. It’s a picture of the two of them, Celeste smiling, carefree, and the dog doing a version of his own with his tongue hanging out to the side.
“Yeah, though Creedence is gone now. He was my very first pet. I still miss him.” I can hear the melancholy in her voice. I don’t bother apologizing; it’s like telling people you’ll be there for them after a funeral for a loved one, when they know damned well they all seem to disappear when you need them the most.
“I’ll only be fifteen minutes, max twenty. Make yourself at home. There are drinks in the fridge, and the remote is on the coffee table.” My hand touches hers, squeezing it in mine then pulling her body closer to me. I wrap my arms around her and feel her relax in my arms, taking my strength freely.
“Take your time. I’ve got nothing but time for you, sweetheart.” My lips go to hers, gently, even if I’d love nothing more to take this hard, deeper. That’s not what she needs right now. Being soft, letting her soak in what she needs is exactly what I’ll give her.
“Alright,” Celeste responds, still soft against me, until she’s ready to leave me. I stay where I am, waiting, letting her take whatever time she needs.
“You okay, Celeste?” I ask, standing still.
“I will be. I’ll be back.” I watch as she walks down the hallway, a sway to her hips, making me feel like I’m resisting the siren’s call when a ship has been gone for far too long and searching for a light. It takes everything in me not to follow her, not to press my front to her back, cup her breasts, her hands reaching out for the wall as I kick those long legs apart, legs that I’ve been dreaming of being between, whether it be my mouth, my hands, or my cock. Fuck, if I keep up this way of thinking, I’ll end up doing just that.
I move to the couch and take in the atmosphere of her place, how she’s turned something that’s bland in the apartment builder-grade style into her own. The vintage vibe mellows you out. The olive-green couch that I sit down on is more comfortable than I thought it would be. I locate the remote on the long rectangular coffee table, porous stone on the top, dark wood on the bottom, holding a shit ton of magazines, and turn on the TV. I quickly find a football game. It’s not the team I usually watch, but it’s enough to keep my mind preoccupied from thinking about Celeste stripping out of her clothes, taking a shower if she is, water coasting down her naked body, or the thought of what she’s sliding on what I’m bound to eventually see.
The football drowns out everything around me. The humming of the fridge that I could hear when I sat down is now gone. The TV has my full attention even if I should be at least checking emails, returning texts or voicemails. That’s when my eyes close and my head tips back, and with no intention of falling asleep, that’s exactly what happens.
SEVENTEEN
Celeste
It didn’t takeme long to get ready, from start to finish. I was showered, lathered with tinted moisturizer, dressed, and done all within the time frame I gave Wylde. The outfit I selected wasn’t meant for an upscale dinner, more for comfort while still looking stylish, and honestly, the reason I didn’t want to wear my work scrubs out to dinner was simple, really. While yes, I’m in an air-conditioned building, you still sweat, and no one wants to be around a man like Wylde stinking of body odor.
There’s noise coming from the living room as I walk down the hall, having already closed my bedroom door. No way am I opening that scenario yet, even if my traitorous body has entirely too many dangerous thoughts, dreams, and wild fantasies, no pun intended. I look down at my outfit again. The white bodysuit paired with floral wide-leg pull-on pants and wedges really came together. The jewelry is probably what helped the most. Luckily enough, when I pulled my hair out of the ponytail it was in all day, it left me with a tousled look.
I stop short at the end of the hallway, expecting to find Wylde watching whatever I heard while I was getting ready. I’m assuming it’s sports because I heard whistles being blown. He’s not watching television, though. “And so he sleeps,” I whisper out quietly, gently taking off my shoes so as not to wake him. I’m sure it’s not every day he gets to be away from the hotel and casino. I veer towards the entry, grab my phone from the basket I dropped it in along with my keys, and pull up the app where I’m guaranteed thirty-minute delivery. It’s from the same place I suggested earlier. I order a bit of everything. The rumbling of my stomach reminds me that lunch was a long time ago. Even if I don’t know what Wylde would usually order, I figure if I get a few appetizers and a multitude of entrees, he’ll find something he likes. I don’t order out often, but it’s easier than cooking every single night even though I usually meal prep for the week, making it easier for late nights. It hasn’t happened lately seeing how my days have been forwards and backwards along with everything in between when it comes to work. God, I can’t wait for Sunday, when I can sleep in, veg on the couch, and not put anything on besides the pajamas I wear to bed. Once the order is placed, I move to the chair on the other side of the couch. There’s a basket where I keep all of the blankets I’ve been given, mostly from clients at Christmas time, some from my parents when they traveled to a certain area and knew it was right up my alley with the décor of my place.
I’m quietly draping the softest blanket I have across Wylde’s body. His head is tipped back along the back of the sofa, feet are sprawled out, hands hanging loosely on his thighs. God, this man is like an aphrodisiac that goes straight to your senses. It doesn’t seem to matter that the logical side of my brain is telling me that we haven’t known one another long enough, especially when it seems my heart and body are willing to dive in headfirst.
“Wylde.” His name tumbles off my lips as I feel him move so quickly, the blanket drops from my hands. He has me underneath him, body hovering above mine, faster than I could blink. “You were asleep. You didn’t have to wake up on my account.” A piece of his hair is hanging over his forehead, blocking one light brown eye from my view. I can’t help but brush it out of the way, keeping my hand locked in his hair.
“And miss this? No fucking way.” He shifts his body until my thighs are spread open, hands on either side of my face, and when he lowers himself, my breath catches in my throat. His body dips as he drags his hips along the way until I can feel his long, heavy thickness. It’s as if he wasn’t asleep, as if the slumber didn’t take him over or anything. One minute, he’s literally breathing so heavily he doesn’t hear my phone or my feet along the carpeted floor, and the next here he is, so close I can feel the heat coming off his body, smell the cologne he’s wearing. Wylde goes in for the kill. The one thing that makes me absolutely weak for this man is his lips against mine, the light abrasion of his beard, his tongue thrusting inside my mouth along with the motion of his hips. I’m a whimpering, pleading mess, cursing myself out internally for not wearing a dress like last time, my core aching for the pleasure it seems anything Wylder Hayes related can give to me.
