Captured by Mr. Wild (The Men Series Book 4)
Captured by Mr. Wild: Chapter 16

I CAN FEEL THE smile spread over my face as I snuggle my head down into the soft coolness and take a deep breath in. The scent of sea salt and wood fills my nostrils, and I let out a sigh as my eyes open. I blink, looking around. I’m surrounded by white waves in a sea of green. I bolt upright and swing my head around, remembering where I am.

Blake’s bed.

It was dark last night, and I felt so weary suddenly—tiredness hitting me like a sledgehammer—that I hadn’t taken it in properly.

I’m in the middle of a bed covered in the softest white bedding I think I’ve had the pleasure of sleeping on, surrounded by green walls. The furniture is minimal, some dark wooden bedside tables and drawers. There looks to be a dressing room and an en suite off to one side, but it’s the walls that have my attention. Placed around the deep green in dark wood frames are different photographs of forest. Some taken from up high, looking down over morning mist, trees spreading far below. Others up close, showing intricate bark patterns and colorful leaves.

It’s like being in a jungle paradise.

Blake isn’t here. But I get the feeling he was until recently, like I can still sense him in the air. I glance down over my white lace bra. It’s dry. I’m dry. This is the first morning I can remember that I haven’t woken up drenched in sweat. That I haven’t woken up with my heart beating wildly in my chest as I feel like I might pass out from lack of oxygen.

It’s the first time I can remember I haven’t had the nightmares.

It must have been the wave sounds. I can’t believe Blake remembered that I had told him I fall asleep to them. They’re the only thing that soothes me enough so I can drift off. I swallow the dry lump in my throat. That’s all they do. They don’t stop the nightmare coming. They aren’t the reason I slept so well. There’s only one thing that could have been.

Blake.

I swing my legs out the side of the bed and accidentally knock the bedside table. It wobbles, and that’s when I notice the glass on top of it with what looks like freshly squeezed orange juice inside. I lift it up and sniff at it, as though it might have been put there by aliens in the night. I take a sip and conclude it’s just orange juice—incredibly mouth-watering, throat soothing, energy-enhancing orange juice. Just what I needed to wake up and prepare myself for coming face to face with Blake this morning.

Just what the hell do I say?

I can’t believe we had sex again yesterday. Despite knowing it’s a bad idea, I still did it. He thinks I’m the same girl I was ten years ago. I’m not. And I’ll be leaving soon. It’s all just a mess that could ruin a perfectly wonderful friendship. Yet, I can’t seem to resist. It’s like my body is a compass and he’s true north. It radiates toward him. Aching for him, screaming out for his touch.

The best thing I can do is to keep my distance. Maybe it would have been better if we hadn’t made up from our fight. It’s easier to resist him when I don’t see him. It’s just my body doing stupid things. It’s been a long time since anyone touched me in a way that made me feel safe and desired all at the same time. I’m probably just drunk with lust and hormones. That’s all.

I look around the room for something to put on over Blake’s tshirt, which only just covers my ass. I’m sure my work dress was here last night, but now it’s vanished. My eyes fall on to a dark gray robe hanging on the back of the door. I slip it around my shoulders and tie the belt. The scent of Blake surrounds me on its soft fabric. This was probably a bad idea.

The sound of “Pony” by Ginuwine is playing from somewhere as I enter the open living area. I almost drop the now empty glass of orange juice on the hardwood floor as I take in the sight in front of me.

Blake is wearing nothing but gray sweatpants, his back to me, muscles rippling as his hips roll side to side in time to the music. I stand rooted to the spot as he gyrates, humming softly to himself as he walks around the kitchen.

It is the hottest fucking thing I have ever seen in my life.

Every muscle in his back is in high definition, the ink of his tattoos dark against his smooth skin as he moves side to side. The man has rhythm. But then I know that from the way he can play my body like it’s tuned only for him.

I must make a sound—probably something akin to a stifled moan laced with sexual desire, judging by the way heat is flaring through my core—because Blake turns suddenly. When he sees me, he gives me a slow smile, before hooking a finger at me, beckoning me toward him.

I shake my head, my eyes wide as they drop down his torso and over his perfect washboard stomach. He grins at me and nods, repeating the beckoning motion. I don’t even realize my feet are moving, but somehow, I end up right in front of him. He grabs the knot of the dressing gown and pulls me against him, continuing gyrating his hips as he gives me the best come-fuck-me look I’ve ever seen.

All I can do is stare at him as he locks eyes with me and continues moving, mere inches from me, but not touching. He rolls his body down mine with a glint in his eye before he lifts me under the arms and places me down on the kitchen counter.

As the sexy chorus starts again, he grabs each of my knees with strong, capable hands and throws my legs apart so he can stand between them and lean into me, grinding against me.

The heat coming off him is intense. Or maybe it’s coming from me. I can’t even tell anymore. The lines between the two of us blur when he’s this close. I don’t know where he ends and I begin.

And I don’t care.

He leans into me further, placing his hands on either side of me on the tiled wall behind so his lips are barely grazing mine. Then he screws up his face as he sings along to the lyrics of the song in a high-pitched squeaky voice. It does exactly what I suspect he intended it to, and I throw my head back and laugh in delight.

I laugh deep from in my belly.

I laugh all the way from my toes.

I laugh as though I’ve never felt pain or heartache in my life.

I can’t stop it and before I know it, tears are streaming down my cheeks. Nothing else exists in this moment except me and him, and the knowledge that he’s always been able to make me laugh better than anyone. He’s always been able to speak to my soul and make it sing.

Blake Anderson—earth’s very own little slice of heaven.

He grins as the song comes to an end, wiping the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs before pressing a soft kiss to my lips, which is over far too quick.

“Good morning.” He winks and then turns to fill the kettle up as the weather report plays on the radio.

“Morning.” My eyes drop to his tight ass as I loosen the neck of the dressing gown to cool myself down. I wipe at my eyes again as my laugh subsides and I take a deep breath.

“How did you sleep?” He smiles at me over his shoulder, his eyes glittering as he turns the radio on the worktop down.

“Good. Great. You?” I bite my lip as I smile back at him.

“Best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages.” He turns and takes the glass I’m still clutching from my hand. His fingers graze mine and send a frisson of electric current up my arm. “Suits you.” He lifts a brow as he places the glass in the sink.

“Oh. Sorry, I couldn’t replace my dress.” I fiddle with the belt of the robe.

“Don’t be sorry. I’d rather wake up to the sight of you in it. And I hung your dress up. It’s in my closet.”

“Oh.” My brows shoot up. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Anything for you, Dai—” He clears his throat and turns to a drawer to pull something out. “Oatmeal good?”

“Pardon?” I frown as I realize I was looking at the V shape running down into his pants along with furrowing my brow at the fact he almost called me Daisy again.

He smirks. “For breakfast. Or would you rather eat something else?” He cocks a brow at me and my cheeks heat as I realize it’s totally obvious where my gaze was seconds ago.

“Oatmeal sounds good.” I turn away, taking a steadying breath as I look around the room. I need a distraction. Something to stop me from thinking about Blake.

Naked.

Naked Blake.

On top of me.

Underneath me.

Behind me.

I shake my head and glance around. I never took this room in last night, either. It’s stunning. High, beamed ceilings in pale, stripped back, honey-colored wood. A great big open fireplace with a large sectional sofa in front of it. Everything is light and airy. But it feels inviting too. There are some giant potted plants providing color, and large, framed photographic prints on the walls. The ones in here are more neutral in color than the bedroom, mostly coastal shots, and sunrises.

I look back at Blake, who’s got his back to me at the cooker. The kitchen area is vast, a giant wood topped breakfast bar extends out with six stools along it, and the tall cabinets are painted in a whitewash. It’s got a sort of modern forest lodge feel about it.

“You did all this?” My eyes roam around again and over to the side of the room, which is all one large glass sliding door out onto the porch. I can see the lake, its surface glistening with the morning sun, and Betsy, laid out snoring in a patch of sunshine on the wooden deck.

“Yeah. My dad helped too. And my brother. Kind of a family project.”

I look back at Blake as he turns around. My hand flies to my mouth as I snort out a laugh. I thought I’d just about recovered from my laughing fit, but I can feel a rumble in my chest and wetness at the corners of my eyes again.

“I didn’t think you’d actually keep it.”

“Why not? I didn’t have one.” He grins at me, but all I can do is try to stop my shoulders from shaking as I look at him.

If anyone can make a flame printed apron with You kill ‘em, We grill em’ on it look sexy, then it’s Blake Anderson.

“Fine. If it’s that bad.” He undoes the ties and pulls it off, tossing it on the counter with a wink.

Fuck.

That’s even worse. At least the apron distracted me. Now I’m face to face with the sight of Blake half naked again. The outline of his dick is glaringly obvious in his pants and, what’s more, I think he knows.

And doesn’t care.

“Come on. Sit.” He grins at me as he turns to pour a mug of tea and places a bowl of oatmeal down on the breakfast bar. The top of it is covered in dried berries and seeds. “You’re going to need your slow-burning carbs today for what I have in mind.” My mouth drops open and Blake lifts two fingers to my chin, closing it. “Now who’s the one with the dirty innuendo mind?” He smirks as I narrow my eyes at him.

“What exactly do you have in mind?” I slide off the counter and sit at the breakfast bar where he’s placed the bowl, waiting for him to join me. He pulls another stool close to mine, so he’s practically in my lap, and then relaxes down onto it.

“I want to show you something.” His eyes light up as he spoons a mouthful of oatmeal past his sinful lips.

“Yeah? What kind of something?” I break my gaze away and take a mouthful of mine. It’s delicious and creamy and I lick my lips letting out a small moan of appreciation.

Blake smirks as he watches me. “A black, hairy beast of a something.”

“You already showed me that. Twice.”

He smiles at me, cocking a brow wickedly in response to my joke. I drop my spoon into my bowl and laugh. I can’t ever remember feeling so light. So free. Not since… my shoulders drop, and I let out a sigh as I smile to myself.

Not since I was seventeen.

“This one you’ll really want to see. Trust me. You won’t forget it.”

I smile back at him as we eat.

He’s right.

I won’t forget.

Ever.