Chapter 19 #2
Something flickered in his eyes, something quick and unreadable—but what caught me off guard the most was the way that harsh crease between his brows softened. “Asher, you aren’t causing anything. Out of anyone, I’m glad it was you one who caught this.”
Butterflies kicked up in my stomach.
God, get a grip, Torres.
“You say that now.” I let out a small laugh, the words leaving my mouth before I could think about them. And then, because I was a masochist, I added, “Maybe I should’ve stayed in Baton Rogue.”
It was meant to be a joke, an offhand jab at myself, nothing to be taken seriously. But to my surprise, Wilder’s expression darkened instantly.
That barely-there softness vanished completely, his frown deepening, something tense settling into the hard line of his shoulders. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s true. Don’t you think?” I asked.
The second the words left my mouth, Wilder moved.
No hesitation, no thought. Just pure instinct.
Without warning, his hand shot out, his fingers catching my face, clutching my cheeks between his calloused palms.
My brain short-circuited within seconds.
I had no idea how to breathe, my entire face growing hot. Not just from his touch, but from the slow, creeping heat spreading up from my neck, over my ears and straight to my cheeks.
For a split second, he just held me there, his thumb barely brushing against my cheekbone, his gaze locked onto mine like he didn’t even realize what he’d just done. Then, just as quickly as he’d grabbed me, his eyes widened—something startled and almost horrified flashing through them.
His fingers snapped apart, pulling away from me like he suddenly remembered who he was touching, realized this shouldn’t be happening.
Oh, hell no.
Before he could back away or completely disengage and pretend none of this was real, I snatched the seam of his button-down, my fingers tightening around the fabric to hold him right in place.
A small noise escaped him—surprise, if I had to guess, judging by the way his eyes went even wider, but he didn’t pull away again. He didn’t try to move at all.
It was stupid, having this moment right in the middle of trying to solve a crisis like someone potentially trying to poison the horses’ food supply, but I wasn’t going to let him run from this now.
“Weren’t we supposed to talk?” I murmured.
I felt him swallow, his throat bobbing visibly. “You... remember.”
The way he said it—low, softly spoken, like he didn’t quite believe it was real—sent a different kind of heat curling through me.
I tilted my head slightly, fingers tightening around his shirt just a fraction. “What, were you hoping I’d forget?”
Because if he said yes, if he told me he had actually been hoping I wouldn’t remember what I said that night, that might just make me drop dead.
A hole in the Earth would need to open up to swallow me whole to save me from that level of embarrassment.
He searched my face, his gaze sweeping over every inch of it like he was looking for something; some kind of confirmation to the question that was buzzing around the inside of his head.
His lips parted slightly, just enough for me to catch the way he darted his tongue out, wetting his bottom lip.
“I...” He trailed off.
He isn’t telling me no.
Oh, I was in trouble.
My boldness was starting to take over now, commanding the reins before the rational part of my brain could catch up and tell me to stop or slow down, to look at the big picture before I could get us both in trouble.
Right now, I hardly cared about the consequences. All I could focus on was the rapidly tightening bulge in my jeans.
Carefully, I walked him back into the alcove, my steps measured while keeping my eyes from wavering from his.
Wildly, he let me. Following my lead, his hands twitching at his sides as he tried to fight with himself on whether to reach for me or push me away. I couldn’t say I blamed him. We’d never been this close to crossing the line before.
The second his back hit the wall, he sucked in a short inhale, his chest expanding right against mine.
“Asher.” My name tumbled from his lips, his voice gravelly and strained, a soft plea for mercy.
The truth was he wasn’t going to get any. Not from me. Not when I had him trapped against this wall and right where I wanted him because I couldn’t help myself.
I’d gone so long carrying this desperate, one-sided crush.
Biting my tongue, swallowing it down every time my chest ached with something I wasn’t allowed to have.
Every stolen glance, every fleeting touch, every quiet moment where I wished things were different—I had locked it all away and told myself to be smart, be careful, to keep things professional.
Now, with his breath fanning against my cheek, his eyes wide and hazy with barely controlled lust, there wasn’t a damn thing in this world that could make me walk away from this.
I moved in closer, pressing my body flush against his, delighting in feeling the way he went rigid beneath my touch.
No matter how still he tried to hold himself or how much he fought not to give in to what was clear we both wanted, the telltale signs of his body reacting to me were a dead giveaway.
“What?” I murmured, my voice low and teasing.
Daring him; begging him to admit this wasn’t all in my head.
Wilder squeezed his eyes shut, his breath coming out in a slow, shaky exhale while whatever he was fighting was beginning to take over. A pained expression pinched his features.
“Goddamn it,” he muttered under his breath, so low it was almost a growl.
The second he snapped his eyes back open, he shoved me away from him. I stumbled backward, nearly knocking into one of the barrels before catching myself. Shock rocketed through me at the sudden, unflinching rejection.
I parted my lips, an apology already forming on my tongue as shame coursed through me now that I was no longer touching him. I was such a fool. I wasn’t supposed to get caught up in his musky scent or the warmth of his body pressed against mine.
I’d done what I was never supposed to do: cross that invisible boundary he’d set up between us an entire year ago.
Suddenly, though, I wasn’t standing anymore. Both of my feet had somehow left the goddamn ground before I realized what was happening, my body lifted like a sack of fucking potatoes and thrown over a broad shoulder like I weighed nothing at all.
A shocked noise ripped from my throat, something between an indignant squawk and a curse.
“You are really going to be the death of me, Torres,” he said, voice clearer this time.
A large hand pressed against the small of my back, firm and steady as it kept me pinned against him while he walked. His long strides were confident, sure of their destination, while I had no clue what the fuck was happening anymore.
Instead, all I could do was grip the back of his shirt, my fingers twisting around the fabric, when we disappeared around the corner and headed straight for the small, abandoned office.
My heart stuttered in my chest, a blooming realization dawning.
He wasn’t rejecting me.
No, he was getting us somewhere private. Away from potentially prying eyes and passing interruptions.
Oh my god.
The moment we reached the office, he nudged the door open with his foot and stepped inside. I was set down right inside the doorway with barely enough time to catch my breath before he kicked the door shut behind him.
The sharp click of the lock sliding into place echoed through the small room, louder than it should have been. There was no walking away from this now.
Moving with slow, deliberate intent, Wilder reached over the empty desk to wrap his fist around the pull cord of the blinds above it. Without a word, he drew them down, the soft rustling plastic sealing off the last slivers of light from the hallway outside.
Trapped in this small, enclosed space where the only thing left between us was this suffocating thick tension, whatever the hell this was about to turn into, I was ready for it.
When he finally turned back to me, there was no hesitation behind him reaching for me once again and finally pulling me in to press his lips to mine.