Wild Man (Wild Men Book 1), page 11
Skylar keeps her eyes fastened on mine. “The last time we saw each other, your dad was…”
I nod, cutting her off from having to continue. “He passed away two months later. This summer marks ten years. It’s just me and my mom now.”
Her hand goes to her mouth, and her eyes fill with tears. “Oh, God. Colton, I’m so sorry. I knew he was sick, but you didn’t say how bad it was.”
“The doctors weren’t sure. They had us still hoping for a miracle. You know, sometimes miracles happen. But not always.”
“No.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “Not always.”
Before I realize what’s happening, she’s shifted forward on the couch so our knees are touching. She puts her soft hand over mine and laces our fingers together.
“I wish I’d been there for you. I’m such an asshole.” Her tone is tinged with self-hatred. “Trust me when I say that if there was any way I could have been there for you, I would have, Colton.”
Not sure exactly what she means, I squeeze her hand in mine. “I called you. When I realized you’d purposely given me the wrong number and address, I probably should have taken the hint. But I don’t give up easily.”
Her lips part. “You tried to find me?”
“After my letter to you was returned to me, and my phone call wouldn’t go through, I called every Rosewood listed in Connecticut. It wasn’t that hard; your name’s not Smith.”
She gives a hint of a smile.
“I couldn’t even get your actual damn address. I know social media wasn’t that big then, but still—you and your brothers leave no trace, do you?”
Skylar inhales sharply. “My mom. After my father hit her that last time, she had to take out a restraining order on him. And she was scared. Honestly, we were all scared. She changed her last name. All of our last names.”
The subtle increase in tightness of her grip on my hand is the only hint of her tension. Her facial expression is blank and her eyes look flat.
“So Rosewood isn’t your original last name.” I say it calmly, afraid I’m going to startle her.
“No. It’s not. My mom keeps her number unlisted to this day. We were pretty impossible to trace. I worry sometimes when I’m on TV…”
She trails off, but I finish her thought. “That he’ll see you? Your dad?”
“I always knew it was a risk to be on television,” she says in a frustrated tone. “I was a reporter first and foremost, and I never had on-air designs. I thought I’d just write stories, you know? But then my boss said he thought I’d be good at it, and when the opening came, I took it. It’s been ten years since my father…” Long pause. “Since he was in my life, but I talked it over with my family first to be sure. They agreed I should go for it.”
Her eyes meet mine. Beneath that tough façade is a fear I never realized she was busy hiding.
“I didn’t know he was abusive,” I say quietly. “I knew he left, but you never said he…”
Her voice turns hard. “He can’t touch me now. I’m not that worried for myself. I worry for my mother.”
I swallow. “I want to kill him.”
“You’re such a caveman.” But her tone is affectionate.
“I do. He better stay a thousand miles away from you and your mom.”
Skylar abruptly stiffens. “Oh. I just remembered…”
“What’s wrong?”
She flicks a hand in the direction of the hallway. “My clothes. They’re still in the bathroom. My shoes are drying out, and they should be okay soon, but can I throw my clothes in your dryer?”
I stand up immediately. “Shit. I’m sorry. I completely forgot.”
Skylar follows me down the hallway. She scoots into the bathroom ahead of me and grabs her clothes into her arms. I usher her into the laundry room around the corner, trying not to peek at the lily-white lace panties she hurriedly tosses into the washing machine first, followed by her snow white bra and then her pantsuit. I hand her the detergent container off the utility shelf, and she pours what looks like enough for a load ten times that large.
I grin. “Not used to doing laundry, Sparky?”
I’m met with a cold stare. “Of course I am. I grew up poor, remember? We didn’t have maids running around after us like you did.”
My jaw tightens. “I was only joking. For someone who’s used to doing laundry, you sure used a lot of detergent for that tiny load of wash.”
Her cheeks turn color until they nearly match her blazing hair. “I slipped,” she says in a choked voice.
She slams the lid down on the washing machine and presses start.
I step closer to her, blocking her way out of the room. “What do you mean—you slipped? Are you not feeling well after your fall?”
“No. I feel fine.” She surprises me by crowding into my space, forcing me to make a decision: either step back, or take everything she’s giving me.
I choose the latter.
I stand my ground, and when her breasts brush my chest, my hands are suddenly on her hips. I don’t even remember putting them there. But my hands belong on Skylar Rosewood’s hips. And they deserve to tighten their grip like they’re doing right now.
Skylar lets out a small sigh, a sound of arousal that she clearly tries to hold back, considering the panicked look that comes over her face when we lock eyes.
“Do I turn you on, Skylar?” My voice comes out harsher than I mean for it to. “Is that why you slipped? You were distracted?”
Her lips form a tight scowl, and she abruptly shoves me backward, just enough so she can step around me and leave the laundry room. “You always were a cocky jackass,” she throws over her shoulder as she hustles down the hallway and grabs her bag off the living room couch.
I catch her as she reaches the front foyer.
“Hey! You can’t leave yet—your clothes are still here.”
She continues for the door. “I’ll have a car service pick them up next week.”
Panic fills my lungs.
She’s going to leave again.
“At least give me your number. The right number this time,” I say firmly.
Her eyes flash with an unnamed emotion but one that looks suspiciously like guilt. “I don’t get why you want to stay in touch with me, Colton. All we ever do is fight.”
“That’s not all we’ve ever done, Skylar,” I say in a low tone.
She pauses, her hand on the doorknob. But I see the way her fingers shake as they cling to that doorknob like it’s going to save her from dealing with me.
“Why are you running away from me again?” I try to keep my voice as gentle as I can.
She lets go of the doorknob and turns to face me fully. “Because you scare me.”
The honesty of her answer startles me.
For the next ten seconds, the only sounds in my house are the two of us breathing. Skylar’s is fast and uneven, like she’s just revealed the deepest secret in her heart. Mine is slow and steady, belying how much her revelation means to me and how much she scares me, too.
“Is that why you gave me the wrong contact information ten years ago?” I lift her chin lightly with my thumb so she can’t avoid my gaze. “Because you were scared?”
She doesn’t answer me. Not in words. Instead, she starts trembling. Her entire body shakes, and she wraps her arms around herself like she can stop it somehow. Well, hugging is something I know how to do. I comforted my mother for three months after Dad died, and I know terror and grief when I see it. I take a step closer and pull Skylar into my chest. I kiss her hair and murmur nonsensical words of soothing. And I hold her until she stops shaking.
“I’m sorry.” She pulls back from me. “That time in my life is loaded with crap. I thought I’d embarrassed myself enough for one day already. But God apparently disagreed.”
I put my hand on her cheek and lean my head closer. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Skylar. But I hope you know I’d never hurt you.”
“I know you wouldn’t purposely hurt me,” she says in such a strong tone I know she means it. “That’s not what scares me. It’s this…” She leans her cheek further into my hand.
“This mind-blowing chemistry we’ve always had?” I whisper. “Is that what you mean?”
A slight nod from her is enough to propel me forward.
My mouth is on hers before I can stop myself. I intend for it to be a quick kiss of comfort, to reassure her that she can trust me and that everything will be okay.
But Skylar’s lips part immediately, and she lets out a moan. And that’s all I need.
All the years of wondering about her, of wishing I’d done things differently, of cursing myself for not texting her number directly into my phone so I’d be sure to have it right—I pour all of it into the kiss. I kiss her like I may never get a tomorrow. Because that’s how I feel every time I touch Skylar Rosewood. Like right now, this moment, is all that counts, and the entire rest of the damn world fades away. She’s a salvation for me, a sweetness in a world tinged with sorrow and pain. When my father was breathing his last breaths, Skylar Rosewood was the one person who felt truly alive to me.
I back her up against the foyer wall and cup her face in my hands. She’s gripping my shirt tightly, demanding I come closer. I happily oblige, sliding one hand down her body until I can slip it underneath the sweatshirt and touch her bare breasts.
“Oh, God.” She lets her head fall back against the wall. “Colton, promise me something.”
I kiss the side of her mouth. “Promise you what?” I’ll promise her anything except to never see her again. Because that—I’ve already decided—is not an option. Skylar Rosewood and I deserve a second chance to see what this staggering sexual desire is between us and what it means.
“Promise me you won’t stop this time.” Her emerald eyes are hot with lust.
I swallow. “I promise. I have protection in my bedside table.”
She puts her hand over my jeans zipper and cups my hardness. “So take me upstairs.”
But instead, I lift my sweatshirt that she’s wearing up and over her head. “Not just yet, sweetheart. First I want to do this—” I dip my head until I can take one of her perfect, pale pink nipples into my mouth. She’s hot and sweet. And vocal.
“Christ, Colton—you’re gonna make me come before my pants are even off.” She pulls at my hair as I continue to suck on her nipple. “Seriously, I’m going to end up ripping your hair out of your fucking head if you don’t stop.”
I chuckle into her breast. “That dirty mouth is one of my favorite parts of you, you know that?”
She goes silent and stiff.
I lift my head up. “Sky?”
A slight shake of her head. “Nothing’s wrong.”
I look straight into her eyes. “Bullshit nothing’s wrong. You just completely shut me out.”
“I just don’t like that part of myself; that’s all. I’ve been trying to curb my cursing. I even tried washing my mouth out with soap.” She groans in frustration. “Nothing’s working. I can’t stop saying bad words.”
I take her hands in mine and swing her arms out to the side. “Look at you. You’re perfect. Dirty mouth and all. Dirty’s good in certain situations you know. Like in the bedroom.”
She smiles, but it’s filled with sadness. “Yeah, I get it. It’s just…my father had a terrible mouth. And he used it on my mother and me. The females in the family.”
I run my hand down my face. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“So I don’t want to talk to anyone I care about the way he did I guess. And I do it all the time. I mean I’ve called you a jackass twice already today.”
“That turned me on.” I wink at her.
She makes a face.
“It did.” I turn serious. “But if you really want to stop swearing, I’ll help you.”
Her face lights up. “Really?”
“Of course.”
She puts her arms around my waist and rests her cheek against my chest. “Thank you.”
SNEAK PEEK AT COLTON
CHAPTER 3
Skylar
Oh, God.
Could I make any more of an ass out of myself today?
I can’t believe Colton and I had to stop making out because of some childhood trauma with my father. I have no idea what possessed me to spit out that closely-held story. I’ve never told anyone that before. But Colton Wild is my kryptonite: he makes me say and do things I never would otherwise. And worse than that, he makes me want to tell him everything—to open up my heart and soul and bare every dirty secret I’ve ever kept.
Colton helps me put his sweatshirt back on. Then he leads me into his kitchen where he picks me up and sets me on the beautiful stone countertop. He gently shifts my knees apart so he can step in between my thighs, and then he reaches above my head for something.
When he brings his arm back down, he’s got two weird-looking shot glasses in his hand.
“What are those?” I say.
He hands me one of the glasses.
“Boulder.” I poke at the set of embossed mountain peaks attached to the glass, which is actually shaped like a mini beer mug. “Did you buy these when we were there?”
“My dad did. He wasn’t able to drink alcohol by then because of all the meds he was on. So we pretended; we did shots of OJ and other healthy drinks, like green juice, every morning.”
“That’s really sweet.” I touch his hand. “But what do these cute shot glasses have to do with my swearing?”
“Nothing.” He breaks into a boyish grin. “I just wanted to show them to you. Besides, the kitchen is the only place I could think of to bring you just now.”
Something about the way he says that last part makes my stomach lurch.
“Why are we in the kitchen?” I get out.
Colton’s eyes fill with such heat that I feel like my nipples are going to pop out of his sweatshirt.
“Living room, I’ll want to bend you over the couch. Bedroom, I’ll want to strip you on the bed. Anywhere with a wall, I’ll wrap your gorgeous legs around my waist and…” His gaze turns so liquid with lust that I bite my lip.
He clears his throat. “But in the kitchen? The appliances fill up all the wall space, and the counters are cold and hard. So is the table.”
“Lots of people like to fuck in kitchens.”
Our eyes meet.
“Do you?” he asks me.
I shake my head. “I don’t, personally. I like the same things you just described.”
Colton puts the shot glasses down on the counter and squeezes his eyes shut. Five beats of silence pass between us. When he reopens them, the lust is gone from his face, and I swallow down my disappointment.
“So.” His tone is even and calm. “What do others—people who care about you—think of your swearing? Do they disapprove of it like you do?”
“Well, other than a couple of coworkers who I hang out with once in a while, my brothers and my mom are my only real inner circle. Nothing’s changed there.”
“That’s cool. I remember how protective your brothers were of you.” Colton’s eyes sparkle. “They were good guys.”
“Still are. On both counts.”
I smile as I tell him how my brothers think my swearing gives a tough dimension to my sweet, innocent look. “Not that cursing is a necessary complement to self-defense, of course. But in my case, Ben and Nick felt that it…”
“Helped you stand up for yourself.” Colton puts his hands on my thighs. “That’s a good thing, right?”
I shrug. “I don’t normally use curse words abusively, so I suppose I’m not doing anything wrong. But with you, I just, I don’t know. I feel so…”
Colton assesses my expression. “Do I make you feel out of control, Skylar?”
Yes. So much. And I can’t handle it. I can’t handle him. He’s standing here between my legs, his mouth inches away, with his hot hands on my thighs. The heat from his skin is seeping through the sweatpants—his sweatpants that I’m wearing—and the sensory overload is enough to make me explode. Colton’s presence and energy are so big, so powerful, that I need to step back.
My mom’s relationship with a monster taught me a lot of things, including to take off if a man gets too close. She let my father fully into her life, and the decision nearly killed her. So I’ve made sure I’ll always be able to stand on my own, and I’ve learned that a good career is worth far more than a good man. Only one man has ever made me want to stop running, though, and he’s currently standing in between my legs.
But my pulse is out of control, and I work to catch my breath. Thanks to a lot of therapy, I’ve become adept at keeping my panic attacks under control, but there are times they will flare up more severely. Like right now.
I jump off the counter, forcing Colton to step back. I land on my feet and immediately grab my handbag and head for the door.
“I’m so sorry,” I say in a soft voice as I leave the kitchen. “I can’t stay.”
Colton’s hand catches my waist before I reach the hallway.
“Hey.” His breath tickles the back of my neck. “Don’t run just because you’re afraid. Please.”
I lean my back against his chest for a split second, and his strong arm comes around me, holding me to him.
“I have to go, Colton.” I force the words out at the same time that I break away from his embrace. “I’ll call a cab. And please don’t say you’ll drive me home because I’ll politely refuse the offer.”
I find my shoes, which are dry enough to put on.
Colton walks with me to the front door and then blocks it with his huge body. “I won’t drive you home. But I want your number, Sky. Your actual, honest-to-God, real cell phone number, where I can call you to say hi and text you dirty messages before you go to sleep.”
My cell phone’s already in my hand. And I don’t have any hesitations when I give the phone over to him.
He takes it from me solemnly and stares down at the blocked screen.
