Left for Wild - Harloe Rae Page 0,37
the hard wall of his body. The noises he’s making remind me of the filthy fantasies I keep locked in a vault. The mixture of groaning and grunts has me digging my nails into his shoulders. I return the tantalizing favor when he spears a hand into my messy tresses and pulls until the warning of a sting blooms. I moan louder as he takes charge of our position, tilting my head to the angle of his choosing.
Even through our heavy clothes, I feel all of him. His muscles bunch and flex under my wandering fingers. I’m small next to his overwhelming power, but I don’t feel vulnerable. The way Halder touches me is more proof than I’ll ever need. The way he lavishes me with unyielding focus and tender caresses shows an innate level of care. He’s gentle and tender, but not in a placating way. This man has been cherishing me with each seemingly simple gesture. Now those signs of being admired are magnified.
I whine into his mouth when he nips at my swollen bottom lip. The tether binding us together is startling. I melt a bit more with each hit of his addictive desire. Maybe this sort of immediate magnitude should be alarming. The tingles coursing through me speak otherwise.
With a final rumble rising from his throat, Halder begins to release me from the daze he’s put me under. We break apart from what feels like an outside force. There’s a slow pulley reeling him away without choice. When my mouth leaves his, a shared rasp trips off our stung lips.
The smolder remains in his gaze, fanning the flames firmly rooted inside of my molten center. “That was the best damn blindside known to man.”
A gloating blush prickles my cheeks. Even with wisps of frosty air separating us, our fire doesn’t extinguish. “I couldn’t stop the urge if I tried.”
He squeezes my butt, which I realize is still in his unrelenting hold. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you.”
I bump my forehead against his. “Yesterday?”
“No, two years ago.”
Oh, sweet baby Jesus. My heart is off for the races at a full gallop. I’m dizzy from the lack of proper breath and draw in some much-needed oxygen. There’s no doubt about my smile being dopey. I allow the loopy grin to spread. “Pretty sure nothing else could make this moment better, but you managed to exceed the swoon. Damn, Halder. That was romance on steroids.”
“You get all the credit.”
Tap dancers do a jig in my stomach. I tuck some errant strands of tryst evidence behind my ear. “So, you really noticed me at the prison?”
“I already told you that.”
“Pretty sure you just lightly glossed over the topic right after we woke up.”
Halder drifts a palm along my lower back. “At every opportunity, I gawked as you were walking by. Without being too obvious, of course. Not that my attempt at being stealthy mattered.”
Confessions struggle for domination while clawing up my windpipe. I allow my gaze to skitter off his, fueling an extra boost of confidence. “I always thought you were super hot, Halder. Even in neon orange. Maybe that makes me sound desperate or that I have some weird fetish. But I never gave another inmate a second glance. Whenever I went to Streebston, there was a secret part inside of me that was desperate to see you. Very specifically.”
His grunt of disbelief puffs steam across my tilted jaw. “You’re just saying that.”
I shake my head, brushing our noses together. “I’m not.”
“Guess we both had a craving for forbidden fruit. And look where it got us.”
“At least we have each other.”
“I deserve to be stranded alone, but I can’t force myself to regret that you’re with me.”
The flush on my face makes a raging reappearance. I can’t scrounge up the negativity to loathe my situation. There’s not even an ounce of remorse for the choices that have been stolen from me. The abundance of yummy vibes I’m floating on is surely to blame. “That is really sweet. Thank you.”
A furrow concaves the space between his brows. “You’re welcome?”
I nibble along my swollen bottom lip. “And thanks for saving my life. Again. I’ll probably rely on you several more times before this nightmare comes to an end.”
He winces near the final words of my spiel. “Shit, Blakely. I’m so sorry you’re stuck out here. If there was a way—”
I press a finger over his protest. “It’s okay. Truly. There’s not much we can do. Just