Wilde Heart (Wilde Women Book 2)

by Halliday, Suzanne

  He stopped on a dime and whirled around so fast that she nearly ran him down in her haste to keep up with his long strides.

  “Whoa,” she grumbled with a startled frown, grabbing one of his arms to help her steady. “Do you ever stop to consider that you aren’t alone on this planet?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he snapped.

  Rhi sighed. What a pair they made. She was jelly-kneed and barely able to string two words together in the aftermath of a shocking orgasm that was somehow still pulsing in her core. And Liam? If she was correct, he was dealing with a serious case of neargasm. What just happened between them in his suite was all about her. His refusal to make love to her pretty much left him with a hard-on she couldn’t ignore but that he didn’t act on. Hence the snapping at her.

  “You’re kind of cute when you’re flustered.”

  He blinked a couple of times—like he was searching for the definition of flustered in his mind—and instantly softened.

  “Sorry,” he murmured close to her ear as he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her to his side. “I’m not used to escorting a lady.”

  She heard the light teasing tone and the way he lingered on the word lady and had to hide a grin. What a piece of work this guy was.

  “I like this.”

  Rhiann turned her questioning gaze to his. What did he like?

  “This,” he told her with a squeeze. “You fit perfectly.”

  She blushed and put her hand on the one he had at her waist.

  “What?” he asked.

  They stood there, arm-in-arm under the towering marble columns in the elegant lobby of the venerable hotel and for Rhi, nothing had every felt so natural. Or so completely bewildering.

  Without another word, he guided her swiftly behind a large planter at the corner of two walls and moved her into a shadow. Anyone looking closely could still see them but, for the most part, he’d given them a private moment.

  Pressing her against the cold marble wall with his big body, he lifted her chin with two fingers and brushed his thumb back forth across her lips.

  “I get nervous when this smart mouth goes quiet.”

  Hot tears gathered in her eyes and Rhi wasn’t sure who was the most shocked at their appearance. She or him.

  “Okay,” he muttered, his breathing quickened. “What did I do?”

  Rhi didn’t avoid his penetrating gaze—she looked straight at him even with the glistening film of tears in her eyes.

  “It’s not you,” she whispered past the lump forming in her throat.

  The skepticism in his expression was so Liam. She was beginning to understand that despite all the trappings of wealth and the supremely arrogant way he went about things, where she was concerned, he was in a freefall.

  “Okay,” she smirked. “Maybe it is you. A little bit anyway.”

  “But? Please let there be a but . . .”

  Rhiann wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight. She saw his grey eyes flare briefly at the possessiveness in her embrace.

  “The whole day has been . . . too much. Sorry.”

  It all came crashing down on her at that moment. Rhi bowed her head and let her forehead drop onto his chest.

  “All the family stuff.” She shrugged as she looked up. “And what happened upstairs.” She was whispering like a conspirator in mid-plot.

  Leaning over her, Liam’s hands reached behind and lowered until he had her bottom completely in his grasp. Oh shit. Her panties were damp enough as it was. Did he have to make her so aware of how hard his cock was?

  Struggling to take a complete breath, she dug her fingers into his waist and stared helplessly at him.

  “What happened upstairs?” he purred silkily. “You mean when you were wet and aching?”

  Heat exploded in her belly and spread rapidly up across her chest until she didn’t doubt her face was beet red. Rhiann looked up at him and nodded, acknowledging that yes, she had been both those things.

  Liam snorted out a grunt. “The family may have been too much sweetness, but that? Too much? Not even close. Try for . . . not enough. Not nearly enough.”

  He kissed her then, with his hands holding her ass as he surged against her.

  “Better?” he husked close to her ear when he was finished laying waste to her mouth.

  No. It wasn’t better. Kissing only made things worse. How could she fly apart so easily with him? He’d destroyed her as a foolish teenager and yet she fell into his arms with such ease now. What was wrong with her? With him?

  “What are we doing, Liam?” she asked with a worried frown. “This is like playing with fire, and you know it.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as his usual scowl softened when he looked at her.

  “I’m winning you back, of course,” he crowed.

  “How exactly do you win back something you didn’t want in the first place?”

  He smirked, not at all affected by the snark in her tone.

  “Oh, I always wanted you, milaya. It just took me a while to understand how much.”

  “And what? You’ve decided and now expect me to fall in line? Don’t I get a say in any of this?”

  She wasn’t actually sure why she was bitching at him. She just was.

  Liam chuckled and tapped her on the chin. “You had a say, sweetness. About twenty minutes ago. Don’t you remember? I believe your wet pussy made a comment. Quite a memorable one,” he growled.

  Well! There really wasn’t anything she could say to that, now was there?

  A sly smile replaced the Ashforth scowl as he murmured, “Come on. They’ve brought the car around. Time to chauffeur you home before I forget why I’m waiting to fuck you and simply toss your sexy ass on the floor right here.”

  If this day got any fucking better, he’d have to revisit his long-held disdain for holidays. Even though Rhiann didn’t have an authentically submissive bone anywhere in her body, she was undeniably clay in his hands. Two gloriously uninterrupted hours with her this morning, even though it had ended on a note of tension, and the unexpected erotic interlude of the past hour had taken what was normally a dismal day and turned it into one of the best he’d had in forever.

  Business deals, reading the competition, going in for the kill, the thrill of acquisition—all of that shit paled next to the blunt realization that he’d never needed anyone or anything like he did Rhiann.

  They drove along through the darkness in calm silence with the satellite radio humming in the background. The blue glow from the dashboard display gave the interior of the car a softness that wrapped around Liam’s nerve endings.

  He liked being around Rhiann. Having her safely buckled into the seat beside him just felt right. Knowing she was close enough to touch was enormously satisfying.

  And then it hit him. He, Liam Ashforth . . . was driving in a car with a beautiful woman. There were so many eyebrow-raising parts of that statement it was almost funny.

  He rarely drove anymore. Part rich man perk and part necessity, he left the traffic headaches and car distractions to others. When he did get behind the wheel, it was usually for pleasure. Like driving a Jeep around Maui or the massive SUV he preferred whenever he visited the mountains.

  But driving round trip from New York to Philly? Completely out of character. So, there was that.

  And he didn’t drive around with beautiful women—like, ever. Some society cougar knob-bobbing on his cock in the back of a limo was one thing. But spending actual time with a female? Didn’t happen. He was too damn busy for such crap.

  Before the previous thought even fully formed, his conscience was screaming Bullshit! Shifting slightly to alleviate the sudden tension in his limbs, he gripped the steering wheel and glanced sideways at his quiet passenger.

  Too busy for such crap? Well, he certainly wasn’t too busy to drop every pressing thing on his schedule so he could haunt the Passion offices in the hopes that he’d see or bump into a certain mouthy brunette.
He might be too busy for the couple of billion females on the planet but for this one? He’d drop everything.

  So, Liam thought. Let’s review. He was driving. And by driving, he meant dealing with the headache that is I-95 on a high volume transportation day.

  Then—he had a woman by his side. And of her own free will! Snorting silently, he chewed on the fact that he wasn’t exactly a sparkling conversationalist or a welcome companion. Or maybe he was and his long-held belief that he lacked social graces was all in his head. Wouldn’t be the first time a ghost from the past tripped him up.

  As for the ridiculous narrative that he never found anyone worth hanging out with? Where in the hell did he come up with this crap? After all, Liam liked Roman. They were more than boss and employee. They were also friends—and equals—despite the paycheck exchanging hands.

  Plus, he got along well with the guys at his health club. The locker room was a level playing field that didn’t rely on manners or position or the size of one’s . . . bank account. So, pretending he was too busy or had never found anyone worth developing a relationship with, whether as a friend, neighbor, or lover, was asinine.

  He was undeniably a smart guy, but he’d been fooling himself all these years about why he self-isolated and refrained from personal interactions. Whatever bullshit he’d been clinging to was obliterated by the way he responded to the pensive lady seated in his car.

  The truth exploded in his brain. For years, his MO had been that if he couldn’t have her, he didn’t want anything. So after sending her away, he down shifted to a state of emotional idle. His motivator, the only thing left driving him, was the need for retribution that had been building inside him since he was a kid. Liam was on a mission, and she had been the sacrifice. The thing he gave up to have what he’d worked so long and so hard for.

  Personal interactions weren’t where he did his best work, so he struggled with the how of doing that since he knew damn well if he wanted to gain her trust, he’d have to start sharing these things.

  Hearing a melancholy sigh from Rhiann’s side of the car, he focused on the energy in their small space and picked it apart. From time to time, her hands ran in a smoothing motion over the dress covering her thighs. Nerves? Reflex?

  In just the past couple of minutes, she’d reached up and fussed with her hair several times. A distraction? Maybe an unconscious habit.

  The sigh, however, told him that she was deep in thought. He was sure that more had happened with the Baron-Wilde clan today than just a heart to heart with her older sister. And while part of him wanted to know every thought in her head, he knew that she was dealing with the tumult of family dynamics—something he had no experience with. But for her, he’d give it a try.

  “Want to talk about it?” They’d been silent for most of an hour so Liam asked the question quietly. Respectfully. He wanted her to know she didn’t have to although he hoped she’d share some of what was swirling inside her.

  DID SHE WANT TO TALK about it? Good heavens! She had no idea. Did she?

  Rhiann found it incredibly easy to talk to Liam. He actually paid attention and she liked the quick way his mind worked. The man was a thinker, an unusual trait these days. Most of the guys she came in contact with through her career were endlessly self-promoting and as deep as a teaspoon of water. She hungered for more than an eye for trends and the ability to read pop culture.

  She was smart, funny, and creative—was aware of world events and could speak passionately about a variety of issues, which had nothing whatsoever to do with the world of fashion or what constituted the life of a young professional trying to make it in the Big Apple. All of the Wilde sisters were well rounded and intelligent. And like their vivacious mother and high-spirited grandmother, the sort of women who did not suffer fools gladly.

  Mr. Three-Piece Suit was anything but a fool. Maybe that was why she couldn’t stay distant. The insane physical attraction aside, they gave good conversation. Always had. He challenged her, and she spoke her mind to him. Had no problem balls-out arguing with him for the sake of, well . . . just for the sake of arguing.

  And he called her on her shit, most of the time. Rhi secretly liked that he did. Very much. Ordinarily her . . . grasp of the English language meant she ran verbal circles around the mere mortals she dealt with. But Smarty McSmartison? The one with the arrogant tilt to his jaw and those freaky steel blue eyes? Back down, he did not. It turned her on that he didn’t take her shit and at least tried to put Rhiann in her place.

  Had her mind just whispered that last thought? Yep. Sheesh. Did she imagine he could read her mind? Looking at his strong profile illuminated by the soft glowing console lights in the car, she silently snickered. Why, yes. Yes, she did.

  Holding back or making polite chitchat to fill the silence weren’t options. They’d been friends before. Good friends despite the way he downplayed that part in the end. Maybe sitting there as they were, cocooned in the dark, as the car sped along the highway was the perfect setting for a normal conversation. One that didn’t end with one or both of them either pissed off or half naked. Finding a middle ground would be nice.

  “Charlie’s coming home soon. For the wedding,” she told him matter-of-factly. “Mom and Dad were freaking out that the whole family would be together again. That part,” she sighed, “was all kinds of cute. They scored high marks in the Parental Adorabilis category.”

  Liam snorted out a chuckle. “Have you always made up words like that?”

  “What?” she giggled. “Adorabilis? No?”

  Now see? This was what she liked. They were so easy together. Well, she smirked. Easy when he wasn’t being all Master of BPG and whatnot. That was new . . . and irritating as hell.

  Turning in her seat, she adjusted the safety belt and directed her attention to him. Crossing her legs, she didn’t bother to push the hem of her dress down because the car was so dark. Putting a hand on the center console, close enough to his big body that her pinkie almost touched his arm, Rhi relaxed and enjoyed his company.

  “I’ll have you know that I won the sixth grade spelling bee all because I love words. Big words. Little words. Made up words. Words that roll off your tongue and others that fall apart in the saying. It’s all good.”

  She heard praise in his voice when he said, “It shows, you know. In your work.”

  The darkness obscured Rhi’s confused frown. “How?”

  “Well,” he answered smoothly. “I’ve read a couple of your reports and presentations. You have a very evocative way of putting things.”

  “That’s one way of putting it.” She laughed. “I do that, I think, because it seems like people don’t make use of their imaginations. So, you sort of have to take them by the hand and paint as precise a picture as you can. And do it with as few big words as possible.”

  The rumbling sound of Liam’s deep laughter filled the car. She liked hearing it. This was the guy she knew.

  “Like big words, do you?”

  Ah. He wanted to play. This was always so much fun. Game on, Ashforth, she thought.

  “Mmmm. It’s not size that matters.”

  “No?”

  Typical dude response. Rhi grinned.

  “Nah,” she drawled. “It’s the fit that counts.”

  The teasing in his voice was melting her insides.

  “Do tell, milaya.”

  Ohhh, she sure as hell would!

  She saw him glance at her face and chose the moment to wet her lips with a slow swipe of her tongue. His answering grin was easy to read.

  “Some words just fit,” she purred although Rhi hadn’t intended to sound so husky and turned on.

  “It’s a process,” she told him. “For me . . . I like to taste the word first.” She licked her lips and grinned. “Feel it roll off my tongue.”

  “Sounds like a good place to start.”

  Was he thinking about her tongue rolling around the head of his cock? If he wasn’t—she’d surely lost her touch.

&nb
sp; “Yeah,” she sighed. “It has to feel right. You can’t just jam any old word in. If fit is what counts . . . well, you have to do the work to make sure the, um . . . word, is worth the effort.”

  “Have experience with a lot of words, do you?”

  Oh, jeez. If only he knew. Now, however, would not be the time to get into that particular subject.

  She chuckled. “Oh, you’d be surprised.”

  Rhiann didn’t imagine that he’d let her non-answer go without trying another tactic. She wasn’t wrong.

  “Well, how about a favorite word? Is there . . . maybe, one in particular that you favor?”

  “Mmmm. Since you asked. . . . .I’m quite partial to fuck.”

  He hissed in surprise at her direct and provocative reply. She shocked him and knowing that wobbled Rhiann a bit. Well, he wanted to play and since this particular playground was where she excelled, he might as well shut up and sit down ‘cause she was in the moment.

  “Fuck may be the best thing ever known to mankind. It can be used as a verb, adverb, adjective, command, interjection, and a noun. And I find it can be added to almost any sentence, like, What the actual fucking fuck?”

  Liam groaned. She plowed on with a wide grin.

  “It’s offensive, profane, and all-around attention getter no matter how it’s used. Fuck also has a shit ton of metaphors. Used as a verb, to get fucked can mean being screwed over but mostly it’s used to describe the act of sexual penetration.”

  This time he cleared his throat.

  “I like using it as a noun. Calling someone a fucker can be most satisfying. And upping fucker to motherfucker has even greater meaning. So is using the word for emphasis—which is something I excel at. Fuck up, fuck with, fuck over, fuck around . . . all worthy expressions, don’t you think?”

  “You forgot the most important fuck,” he drawled.

  Rhiann had to laugh. Of course, she did! That was because she wanted him to say it.

  “Didn’t hear you say. . . . fuck me.”

  She wanted to clap her hands with childish glee and hoot with laughter but managed a quiet giggle before chidingly answering, “Nor will you, Mr. Ashforth!”