Wild
Copyright © 2013 by Adriane Leigh
Cover Photo by Scott Hoover Photography
Cover Design by Cover It Designs
Formatting by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
For Amy, my SmutSister, personal assistant/bitch, dedicated reader, and the official Mrs. Wild.
Sunday morning and I felt like ass. Complete and total bullshit ass. Worst hangover of my entire fucking existence.
I stepped through the doors of my small cottage on the beach and headed straight for the bathroom. I needed to get the awful taste of alcohol out of my mouth. I hadn’t gotten so fall-down drunk since I was in high school. The graduation party Jenny Gordon had when we drank vodka and juice and I made out with her brother. Every time I closed my eyes that night, I saw stars. Actual stars spinning behind my eyelids.
I stepped into the bathroom and assessed myself in the mirror: my cheeks, hollow; my hair, a wild mess of strawberry, tangled around my shoulders; my eyes, dark circles underneath with a smudge of mascara rimming the eyelashes. I looked like hell and I felt like hell, and the actual worst part—it wasn’t just me there to witness it. Here I was, stumbling in at six a.m., fresh from crawling out of someone else’s bed.
What a shit storm I’d created last night.
His wild dark hair and sexy grin slammed into my brain. He’d driven me to distraction at the bar last night. I’d only been in town a few weeks, and I’d stopped in for just one drink. I was keeping to myself, but couldn’t help notice his beautiful face and body, which were made for sin, as he threw darts with a few other guys. His laugh was full and hearty and echoed across the room, garnering everyone’s attention. The women fawned over him and the guys hung out with him; he was the most popular guy in the place, commanding the attention of all. And even when I was trying to divert my eyes, I couldn’t help but sneak glances.
So I’d had another drink and pretended not to watch that devilishly handsome grin light his face.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked. My breath caught in my throat when I turned to look at him. He looked at me with a sexy sparkle in his endlessly deep, arctic-blue eyes. His full lips turned up in a seductive grin. He was so much fucking trouble, I could see it pouring off him. If I hadn’t suspected it before when he was flirting with all the girls in the place, it was obvious now that I was in his space.
But, unfortunately for me, I so liked being there.
“Thanks.” I nodded my head and turned back to my drink because there was nothing else I could say. He slid onto the bar stool beside me and nodded to the bartender.
“Haven’t seen you before, passing through?” His deep voice reverberated across the space between us and slammed straight between my thighs. He had the sexiest voice I’d ever heard. How was it possible for one man to be so sexy? To be so blessed with the entire package? A sharp stubbled jaw line, the fullest lips, which had me wondering what they’d feel like trailing across my body, stunning eyes that sparkled mischievously when he spoke. It was obvious he left intelligent women everywhere struggling to find words.
“Something like that. Thanks.” I smiled as the bartender set our drinks down.
I don’t remember much from that point on.
Well, that’s not true; I remember bits and pieces, the most delicious parts.
His hands ran up under my shirt as he pinned me against the door of his truck.
His lips on my neck, teeth nipping at the flesh.
Stumbling up the steps to his house, his body slamming me against the front door, hands locked above my head as one of his palms trailed up my thigh and under my skirt to hook my leg around his hip. A thumb hooking in the delicate lace of my panties before his fingers breached the fabric and ran up my soaking wet slit.
My
body writhing against his as he sucked on my earlobe, his fingers working in and out of me before my first orgasm bloomed low in my belly and shot across every nerve I had.
He opened the door and we stumbled into his house, just making it to the foyer before he kicked the door closed and laid me down on the floor, his hard body hovering over mine, caging me in.
The sound of a zipper as he pushed his jeans down his powerful thighs.
His rough hands trailing up my legs and over my ribcage before pulling my dress over my shoulders.
Fingers hooking in my pushup bra and pulling the fabric down to reveal the hardened peaks of my nipples. Teeth dragging across the sensitive flesh as he slid between my thighs and teased his throbbing arousal through my slick folds.
The low growl that escaped his throat as my nails dug into the hard muscle of his back and dragged across his skin when he pushed into me.
My second orgasm in as many minutes as he ground his hips between my thighs and fucked me so hard the only words that escaped my lips were, “Oh, God.”
Oh, I remembered plenty.
But the most mortifying aspect of my walk of shame this morning was the realization that I still hadn’t caught his name.
I stepped into the hardware store of the small Maine town and headed for the heating aisle. The old man behind the counter gave me a friendly nod as I grabbed a furnace filter and cleaning supplies. I’d arrived in town a few weeks ago and had finally found a place to stay. A small cottage, just short of being condemned, but in a perfect location, on the wild and rocky Maine coast. The sound of crashing waves filled my ears, a backdrop to my new life in the small rugged coastal town of Rock Island.
When I’d arrived, I’d asked around about rentals and finally had come across something that was in my meager price range and was available through the off-season. Up here, most places weren’t winterized, especially those with ocean frontage, which this was. The small, weatherworn cabin was situated on a wooded, rocky outcropping that jutted into the angry Atlantic. Most had dreams of living on a white sandy beach, but from the start, I’d imagined living on a rocky shoreline with rolling waves pounding the grey rocks. The tides rolling in and out, the smells of the ocean infiltrating my senses: these were the things I’d dreamed about. Many people complained that they smelled like salt year ‘round—their houses, clothes, even their cars took a beating—but I loved the idea. It served as a reminder that I lived in this wild and beautiful place.
“Sure you got the right size?” an achingly familiar voice murmured in my ear and snapped me out of my thoughts. I choked on the lump that’d lodged in my throat as I turned to find the sexy stranger from a few nights ago at my side.
“Yes, thanks.” I turned away from him, his broad shoulders and cocky smile burned into my brain.
