The Wilde Series

MERRICK

I knew coming here was stupid. Why the fuck did I let my heart convince my brain that this was a good idea? I should have just left well enough alone.

I sigh into the quiet of the farmhouse living room. Azzy is asleep against my chest, tucked into me so close that I can feel her heart beating against mine.

After crying herself dry, she passed out, exhausted, in my arms on the barn floor. Then for some unknown reason, when I carried her into the house, I stupidly lay beside her.

I should have left the second I had her settled, but how could I? She’s damn near perfect.

I take a moment to study her, running my eyes along every curve, dip, and detail of her face.

Dark lashes brush along high cheekbones, leading a path down to her pierced nose dressed with a tiny silver hoop. Her lips twitch, enticing my gaze down to her pillowy mouth.

Flashes of those lips touching every inch of my body play through my mind like a movie reel.

Every kiss, every nip of teeth on my skin, every goddamn lick and suck. The memories stir a dormant lust in me I haven’t felt with any woman since her.

It’s not that I haven’t had my share of fun in the years we’ve been apart—I have. I’ve done it all. One-nighters, week-long sex binges, online dating for the sole goal of fucking. You name it; I’ve tried it.

It’s just that nothing ever compared to the illustrious Azalea Wilde. Not even… Fuck. Rachel.

What am I doing? And what the hell is wrong with me? I have someone in my life. A good, kind, stable someone. She’s sweet and soft-spoken, loving, and predictable. Everything Azzy isn’t.

And I like her. At least, I think I do. It’s just that, at this moment, I’m not so sure that’s true. How can it be when Azalea makes me feel more alive than Rachel ever has?

Being here, in this house, seeing Azzy, it’s fucking with my brain, twisting up my emotions in ways I don’t understand.

I mean, who the hell forgets about the woman he’s been dating for months? Worse still, Rachel was a friend long before we even started seeing each other, and I haven’t thought of her once since seeing Azalea earlier.

I’m a grade-A asshole. I should be curled up on my couch with Rachel in my arms, not Azzy. What I’m doing right here could fuck up a reliable future with a girl-next-door type of woman. I’m more of an idiot than I thought.

I mean, come on. Settling down with a textbook perfect girl, starting a family, making a home, those are all the right moves, all the safe moves. Until today, I thought that’s what I wanted, but now I’m not so sure.

***

The click of a door closing startles me awake. Rose’s and Poppy’s voices carry from the entrance to the living room.

Shit. I still have Azalea snuggled against me, snoring softly with her thigh thrown over my waist and her hand on my chest.

Every curse word in the book runs through my head as I sink into the cushions, silently praying neither of them comes in here and sees us like this.

I release my held breath, relieved when I hear two sets of footsteps head up the stairs.

Guilt settles in my stomach, and I feel a little sick. What the hell am I doing? Why didn’t I leave sooner? I’m fucking seeing someone. This doesn’t feel right.

I’m not the type of man that screws around. I may have been an arrogant prick in my younger years, but even then, I was always loyal to the one who had my heart.

My dad fucked around on my mom for years. I witnessed her withdraw into addiction and watched as she drank herself to death because of what he did. I ended up in foster care because of that bastard.

I don’t want to be that guy. Fuck, no one has ever tempted me to be that guy, but now Azzy is home, and I’m all tied up in knots.

She was my first everything—first kiss, first fuck, first love. All of it. When she left, I felt like a part of me went with her.

I waited. For months I clung to my phone like a lifeline, hoping every text, every call, was Azalea. Every damn day I kept that phone with me.

When she never called, something in me broke. For an entire month, I partied every night, getting wasted, screwing different women every chance I got, doing everything I could to erase her memory from my mind.

Only, it never worked.

Thoughts of Azzy always crept back in to haunt me, breaking me down into a junkie chasing his next high any way he could get it—until I met Rachel.

She took her time pursuing me, nurturing our friendship in a way that patched my broken spots.

Slowly, she put me on a better path, helping me get clean and train as a police officer. Eventually, my heartache eased, and I decided that one day, I might be able to love her the way I loved Azalea.

Yet here I am, with a pounding heart and an inappropriately timed hard-on, walking right back under Azalea’s spell like a lovesick fool without a single damn thought about who he might hurt.

What kind of asshole does that?

I have to get out of here. Right now.

Sucking a deep breath in and holding it, I gently shift Azalea’s leg from my body. Fuck, I hope she doesn’t wake up. I can’t face her right now. Not when my self-control is at an all-time low.

When she doesn’t move, I exhale, relieved to be free of her tangled limbs.

Since I can’t climb over her without straddling her body like some creep, I slide my legs over the back of the couch, thanking the stars they are as long as an NBA player’s.

I make a break for the door, closing my eyes in victory when the crisp night air fills my lungs, erasing the sweet scent of Azalea from my senses. When I feel like I have myself under control, I pat my back pockets for my keys.

Oh, no. No, no, no. Where the fuck are they? I spin around, searching the ground for any sign of them. Dammit. This must be karma’s payback for me being such a shit human tonight.

“Looking for these?” A sleep-rasped yet dangerously seductive voice freezes me in place, making my entire body shiver—and not from the cold.

When I look up, Azalea is standing on the porch’s top step, twirling my keys with her index finger. She leans against the railing, biting her lip to hide the shit-eating smirk teasing the corners of that mouth I love so much.

Azzy pushes off the railing, taking the steps slowly while her eyes rake over my body from the bottom up. My breath catches when she stops in front of me, standing so close her hips skim against my groin.

Fuck me, fuck this, just plain fuck.

A knowing smile lights up her pretty face as she grabs my wrists, standing on her tiptoes to rest her lips against that secret tingly spot on my neck that only she knows about.

She slides the keys into my suddenly sweaty palm with one hand, reaching around to slip her fingers into my back pocket with her other hand, pulling my phone out smoothly.

Whole-body chills sweep through me when Azalea whispers in my ear, “Keys are yours, phone is mine. Come collect it when you’re ready to face me like a real man instead of sneaking out in the middle of the night like a 3 a.m. booty call.”

She plants a featherlight kiss on my neck before spinning on her heel and hightailing it into the house without glancing back in my direction.

All I’m left with is a gaping mouth and a dick harder than a mountain made of diamonds.

Well, fuck me. Karma really is a bitch.