Page 65 of Made for Wilde

“Come for me, Charlotte.” I watch her face, mesmerized by the way pleasure transforms her features. “Let me feel you.”

She shatters around me, inner walls clenching tight as she cries out my name. The sound echoes through the trees, raw and unrestrained. It pushes me over the edge, my release hitting me like a freight train as I bury myself deep inside her one final time.

For a long moment, we stay locked together, breathless and trembling. Charlotte’s forehead rests against mine, her eyes closed as she comes down from the high. I hold her weight easily, reluctant to let her go just yet.

“Well.” Her voice is deliciously rough. “Good morning to you, too.”

I laugh, the sound rumbling between our pressed bodies. “Morning.”

“I think we just scared away all the wildlife within a five-mile radius.”

“Worth it.” I press a kiss to her temple, then slowly lower her feet to the ground, keeping a steadying arm around her waist.

She giggles, the sound light and unrestrained, a blush creeping across her cheeks. “You know what? I kind of liked that. Being out here like that.”

I raise an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across my face. “Did you now?”

“Maybe.” She bites her lip, eyes sparkling with mischief.

I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, my voice dropping to a teasing rumble. “Well, look at you. My little exhibitionist.”

Her blush deepens, but she doesn’t look away. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it just as much.”

“Never said I didn’t.” I capture her mouth in a quick, possessive kiss. “Just filing that information away for later.”

She tugs her shirt back down, though it’s wrinkled beyond repair, stained with sweat and evidence of our activities. Not that I’m complaining.

“Come on,” I say, taking her hand. “Let’s get something to eat. All that wood chopping worked up an appetite.”

“Among other things,” she murmurs with a smirk, following me toward the cabin door.

Inside, the kitchen is warm from the fire I started earlier. I head straight for the fridge while Charlotte settles onto one of the bar stools, watching me with those blue eyes that still make my chest tight.

“Eggs and bacon?” I pull out the carton and the package of bacon.

“Perfect.” She rests her chin in her hands, elbows on the counter.

I get to work, cracking eggs into a bowl, laying strips of bacon in the cast iron skillet. The familiar motions are soothing, domestic in a way I never thought I’d experience again. The bacon starts to sizzle, filling the kitchen with its rich aroma.

Charlotte shifts on her stool, and when I glance over, she’s pressing a hand to her stomach, her face slightly pale.

“You okay, baby?”

She nods quickly, maybe too quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... maybe go easy on the bacon? The smell is a little strong this morning.”

I frown, studying her more carefully. There’s a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead, and she’s gripping the edge of the counter like she needs the support.

“Charlotte—”

“I’m fine,” she insists, waving me off with a weak smile. “Probably just hungry. I didn’t eat much yesterday.”

I’m not convinced, but I don’t push. Instead, I crack the window to let some fresh air in and turn down the heat under the bacon. She takes a deep breath, some of the color returning to her cheeks.

“Better?” I ask.

“Much. Thank you.” She reaches for her water glass, taking a long sip.

I finish cooking, plating the eggs and keeping the bacon to a minimum. When I slide her plate across the counter, she stares at it for a moment before picking up her fork.