Page 39 of One Wild Wish

I shook my head. “Single.”

Then they alternated fire.

“Are you on any dating websites?”

“None.”

“Has a woman ever slapped you?”

“Not that I recall.”

“Have you ever hit a woman?”

“What the fuck kind of question is that? And the answer is hell no.” I lowered my hands over my nuts just the same. These girls weren’t messing around.

At least Rachel’s friends cared. When Sophia had left me and my life imploded, my acquaintances had thinned, until none were left. They’d either tired of my sullen moods or weren’t genuine. It made me more self-sufficient, a state of being I craved. Or used to, at least. I was glad for Rachel, though. Happy she had people in her corner.

The next shot came from her. “Have you ever shoplifted?”

Not the question I expected. “Once. A pair of sunglasses on a dare.” That’s what happened when sixteen-year-old boys had beer and too much time on their hands.

Rachel’s third degree continued. “Do you do drugs?”

“Does getting high on you count?”

“Have you ever been in jail?”

“I’m in purgatory now, waiting on you.”

Ainsley snickered. “I like this guy.”

Rachel rolled her eyes.

It was time to start steering the conversation. I gripped the bar and leaned toward Gwen and Ainsley. “Why is Rachel fighting my advances?”

A smug smile slid across Gwen’s face. “You’re not exactly her type.”

Finally, we were getting somewhere. “What is her type?”

Ainsley held up her hand and ticked each finger. “Smart. Driven. Un-inked. Family man. Great job. She basically wants to date her dad.”

Rachel waved from her seat. “Remember me? The girl you’re gossiping about? I’m sitting right here.”

I ignored her, the intel too juicy to quit. Not that Ainsley’s descriptions surprised me. The way Rachel worked at life—her pens lined up, wardrobe appropriately conservative, careers tried and failed—she was forcing a square peg into a round hole. She needed to tap into whatever it was that drove her, fed her soul, or she’d chase her tail forever. Her “type” needed an overhaul, too. She’d reacted to me the other day, deeply. She just couldn’t admit it.

I slid my forearm on the bar, angling my back to Rachel. “I am clearly not her dad. So how do you suggest I get her over to my place?”

Gwen’s face lit up with amusement, then she studied me, narrowing her eyes as the moments passed. She opened her mouth to reply, but Rachel beat her to it. “I’m not after anything serious. If we hang out, you have to promise it’s casual.”

I spun to find her sitting taller, chin raised, confidence in her strong posture.

I’d pegged Rachel as a relationship girl, only dating to find Mr. Right. Either my instincts were off, or this was her testing the waters. Feeling me out before opening up. I still didn’t know if I could trust a woman fully, not after Sophia. Giving someone your heart only to find out she’d been using you was a hard pill to swallow. Rachel didn’t seem the type, but my character assessment had proven shitty once.

Still, I’d thought about her since Thursday, restlessly, imagining our kiss deepening, instead of her holding stiff. I’d stroked myself to the memories of our one wild night. I wanted to hear her ridiculous laugh, feel her thighs bracketing mine as we toured wine country on my bike. Sit with her under the sun, wine sipped, cheese nibbled, her hair tickling my neck.

I wanted us.

If that meant agreeing to a casual affair, so be it. The sex had been unreal, and once I jogged her memory and had her gripping my scalp and screaming my name, she’d have to admit our connection was deeper than a fling. If not, I’d at least get another taste.

I slapped the bar. “Done. We hang out, nothing serious, just two people having fun.” I shifted toward Rachel, her lips within biting distance. “That good with you, Sunshine?”

She crossed her legs. She made me wait for it. Finally, she said, “Deal.”

I grinned. “Excellent. Can I get you ladies anything for last call? Drinks are on me.”

“Something colorful in a martini glass,” Ainsley said.

“White wine,” Gwen replied.

“Red?” I asked Rachel, and she nodded.

I fixed Ainsley a cosmo and poured a glass of white for Gwen. I chose our only decent Cabernet and slid it in front of Rachel. Her fingers brushed mine, and my thighs tensed, electricity passing between us. She held my stare, neither of us moving, both breathing fast, until duty called. But my mind was an hour ahead, to us groping each other, our clothing littering the floor. Damn, did I want her.

The regulars filtered out, leaving only Mel helping me close up and the girls chatting. Rachel nursed her wine, heated glances shot my way. I had half a mind to kick everyone out, lock the doors, and bend her over a table. I settled on teasing the little minx.

I approached her from behind, collecting the pretzel bowl beside her and bending toward her ear. “You’re coming home with me tonight. I will undress you and lick your pussy and fuck you hard, and then you can decide if you want to sleep over or leave. But make no mistake, I will be inside you tonight.”

I bit the bottom of her ear, and her answering moan sent my dick pressing against my zipper, eager for more. The next twenty minutes couldn’t go fast enough.