I woke her up the next morning with my lips trailing down her sweet body. She moaned and arched before pulling away from me and turning on her side. I laughed. Did she think she could escape me? “Not a breakfast girl?” I lifted her arm and arched it above her head, entwining our fingers while I trailed my lips down the underside. “Not a morning person,” she mumbled into her pillow, her strawberry hair a mass of tangles across my white sheets. I blew soft breaths along the underside of her arm, over her ribcage to her breast where her soft pink nipple pebbled from the cool air. “Well, I’m definitely a morning person, and if you stay here much, you will be too.” I leaned in and snagged her nipple between my teeth. “Lane,” she moaned and turned, capturing my face between her palms. “It’s Wild, baby.” I captured her lips with my own and crawled on top of her, caging her in with my arms, threading my fingers through her mass of waves. “Wild,” she emphasized my name with a roll of her eyes.
