Born Wild

thing had turned into a gaping mouth threatening to swallow him whole. The sudden move nearly had Eve face- planting into the colorful rug, and he steadied her by placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I, uh—” He stopped short, trying and failing to catch his breath. She was looking up at him with big, wary eyes, two graceful fingers touching her kiss-wet lips, her other hand wrapped around the pearl pendant at her throat. Holy hell, you’ve got to get out of here, boy-o.

“I didn’t mean for that to—” He stopped again, shaking his head. “Goodnight, Eve.”

He turned on his heel, gritting his teeth against the pain caused by the humungous bite his ulcer took out of his stomach when her softly whispered “G-goodnight, Billy” followed him out the door.

Chapter Nine

Black Knight Inc.’s Onsite Gym

Sunday, 6:36 a.m.

What did it mean? What did it mean? What did it mean?

The phrase circling around in Eve’s head kept time with the pounding of her sneakers on the treadmill’s conveyer belt.

He’d said he wanted to let bygones be bygones, and then he’d kissed her…

Holy moly, did he ever! Her lips were still tender, the skin on her chin still slightly pink from the rasp of his ever-present beard stubble. And, oh, she’d forgotten what it felt like to be good and truly kissed. To be swept away by the sensation of lips and teeth and tongues and sweet- tasting breath.

Nobody, and she meant nobody, kissed like William Wesley Reichert. The man was a veritable prodigy, especially when he did that thing where he put both palms on either side of her face and gently sucked her tongue into his mouth…or when he caught her lower lip between both of his and softly stroked the sensitive pad with his tongue…or when he was in the conquering mood and plunged inside her mouth like Genghis Khan, just flippin’ ravaging her—which was what he’d done toward the end last night.

And, yes, she totally blamed him—and her early immersion in the wonder that was him—for the fact that the guys she’d dated and kissed since him hadn’t measured up to her expectations. I mean, once a girl got a taste of triple-chocolate truffles, plain ol’ graham crackers simply lost their appeal.

But what did it mean? Did it mean she’d been wrong about that look out in the Hummer? Did it mean he’d forgiven her and wanted to give it another try? Or was it, in fact, some sort of good-bye kiss, a way to mark the end of their tumultuous relationship, to bookend their time together, if you will?

Her phone sprang to life, dragging her from her restless thoughts, and she frowned down at the name on the screen. Her father wasn’t very good at taking a hint. But she wasn’t prepared to speak to him. Not yet, at least. Punching a button, she sent the call directly to voice mail just as a deep voice, spoken from directly behind her, had her hitting the emergency stop key on the treadmill.

“You still run like the wind.”

She glanced over her shoulder, grabbing the towel draped over one of the handrails in order to wipe away the drops of sweat on her brow and throat.

“You’re up early,” she wheezed as she stepped off the machine, wondering if her breathlessness came from exertion or the fact that Billy looked so dang good that her lungs had seized up.

Erm…probably the second. Because she ran seven miles a day, five days a week, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d lost her breath while doing it.

Chastising herself for being a complete man-hungry ninny when it came to Billy and his miles of tan, tattooed muscles, she wiped the towel over her face and forced herself to drag in a steadying breath. The smell of the bleach the towel had been washed in combined with the aromas of the gym’s astringent cleaning products and good, healthy, male sweat to ground her. Sort of. That is until her gaze once more landed on Billy.

Oh, good gracious. Today he was wearing baggy sweat pants slung low around his ultra-trim waist and a tight white tank top that emphasized the hulking muscles in his shoulders and just happened to showcase the colorful star tattoos cascading down his sculpted arms.

Her eyes were drawn to the red and blue ink, to the fierce points of each wickedly perfect beacon of patriotism. She wondered idly if the individual stars represented something. But the thought was fleeting, because she was distracted by the sea of testosterone surrounding Billy. The sea of testosterone that made her want to do something incredibly foolish like, oh, say, don snorkel gear and dive right in. Then again, before she could do that, she needed to figure out exactly what last night’s kiss meant. If she could just drum up the courage, that is.

Come on, Eve. Stop being a wuss. Oh God, her heart was pounding a mile a minute.

“I like to get in a workout before the chaos of the day begins,” Billy said in answer to her incredibly lame— insert eye roll here—you’re up early. Geez, whoever it was who’d recently complimented her for being articulate should obviously go in for a CT scan. Because when it came to Billy, her vocabulary shrank to double and most times single syllable words.

Like, for instance, right now? Well, right now, as she watched him push away from the doorjamb, the only word she could seem to come up with was yum.

Her eyes devoured him as he sauntered over to a weight bench. Lowering himself, he bent to tighten the laces on his worn sneakers. Which is when she realized not only was her stomach quivering from the mere sight of him, but her hands were also shaking with fear. And dangit, a large part of her wanted to turn tail and run. Just skedaddle right on out of the outbuilding that served as BKI’s home gymnasium and avoid any morning-after conversations. Because what if he told her that kiss meant nothing? Or worse, that it meant the end of everything…

But, no. That was the old Eve, the timid, little rabbit Eve. The new Eve? Well, the new Eve gnawed on her lip for a good two-second count before blurting, “You kissed me last night.”

Okay, and that came out sounding more like an accusation than a question. Curses.

Billy planted his forearms on his thighs, letting his head hang between his shoulders and his big, lovely hands dangle between his legs. He was silent for a seemingly interminable moment during which time she was afraid her pounding heart might just leap right out of her chest. Then, he lifted those lovely eyes of his to her face, and his expression was…what?

Embarrassed? Wry? Self-deprecating?

She couldn’t tell. Oh, why couldn’t she tell?

“Guess there’s no way to un-ring that bell, huh?” he muttered, lips twisting, and all the hope that’d been expanding in her chest burst. She was surprised a loud pop didn’t echo around the room.

The urge to run was more powerful than ever. But she held her ground, lifting her chin. “Would you…” She licked her lips and swallowed…her pride, perhaps? “Would you want to un-ring it?”

He made a face. “Maybe,” he said. Then, “Probably.”

Well, a girl couldn’t fault the guy for being honest.

“Oh,” she murmured, trying very hard to keep her shoulders from drooping and her lower lip from quivering.

“I went up to your room last night to attempt to give you a little comfort after your hellacious last couple of months and to tell you that I’m done holding grudges about the past. But the urge to kiss you overcame me, probably something to do with old habits or bad instincts, and I wrongly acted on it. I’m sorry about that. It won’t happen again.”

But what if she wanted it to happen again? She opened her mouth to admit as much—talk about swallowing her pride—when his expression stopped her cold. She knew a wall when she ran into