Read Something Wild: A Reckless and Real Prequel Novella for Free Online

trousers, who am I to judge?”
    He cocks a brow, apparently unfazed by my attempts to emasculate him. “Are you going to invite me in, Rowdy?”
    Stepping back, I swallow and motion inside the house. “Come on in.” He offers the bottle of wine, and I take it. “Thanks. I’ll go get a couple of glasses.”
    “Just”—I’m two steps toward the kitchen when he grabs my wrist and spins me around—“stop for a minute.”
    “Wha—”
    His mouth crushes against mine. With one hand, he grabs me by the waist and pulls me closer, while the other wraps around the side of my neck. The hand at my neck makes me feel so small—fragile, as if I’m something he wants to protect. The hand at my waist makes me feel powerful—as if I’m something he wants to possess.
    And PC or not, I want to be possessed by Samuel Bradshaw. I want to taste his kind of pleasure, to be bound and at his mercy. It’s not just what he’s told me. I’ve heard the rumors, the whispers. I don’t know that I’ve ever craved something like that before, and with any other man, I probably wouldn’t.
    When he breaks the kiss, our breathing is unsteady, louder, as if the air in the room grew heavier while our mouths touched and now it’s harder to breathe.
    “I’ll go pour the wine,” I say. I turn toward the kitchen before I can lose myself in his eyes. His steps sound behind me, but I focus on finding two wine glasses and the corkscrew, and try to think of a safe subject. It’s not like I’ve never had a booty call before, but this is awkward. Because it’s Sam? Or because I need to prove to myself that I can have the one thing I’ve denied wanting for four years?
    “Did you end up dancing with the governor’s daughter?” I ask.
    “I did.”
    “What do you think?” I pour the wine, watching the deep red liquid fill the glass. “Wife material? Think you’ll let her have your babies?” When I allow myself to turn, I nearly drop the glasses. He’s removed his tie and is wrapping it around his fist. Why didn’t I realize what nice hands he has? They’re big and strong, and . . . capable.
    Something flickers in his eyes and is gone again in a breath before his gaze darkens. “I’m not interested in marrying anyone. My father will come to terms with that.” Again, I think, Heartbroken, Sam is heartbroken , but as far as I know he wasn’t even seeing anyone, and I’m not sure where I’m getting that idea. Maybe it’s wishful thinking. Maybe I just want him to be the kind of guy who gives his heart to be broken. Maybe I want to be the one to put it back together again.

Sam
    “Think you’ll let her have your babies?” Tonight, her innocent question is salt in a fresh wound. I’m not the kind of man women see as the father of their children.
    Shit. A few days ago, my biggest problem was trying to figure out how I was going to tell my parents—my conservative, model-citizen, bank-owning parents, with political aspirations—that I fucked up, and that my life was now inextricably tied to a woman I wasn’t even sure I liked.
    I was scared out of my mind, but I pulled her into my arms—this woman I hardly know and might not even like—and stroked her hair and promised it would be okay. I’d take care of her. I’d make this right. I held her and turned my problem over and over in my head like a puzzle that needed solving. As soon as she told me, I acted. I got her out of her shitty apartment and into a nice little condo, and gave her a nest egg to hold her over until she could find a new job. But I still hadn’t figured out how to tell my parents that this soon-to-be-ex-stripper was the one I’d be bringing home for family dinners.
    Two days ago, she took that problem right out of my hands when she showed up at my place and told me it was over. She said it was for the best. And when I asked her to reconsider, she called me a selfish bastard. And maybe I am. Because I’d do anything to get her to change her mind.
    “Hey.”