CHAPTER ONE

It was the kind of half-conscious awareness where dreams and reality were blurred. The room was completely dark aside from the distant city lights reflecting off the floor-to-ceiling windows. I lay there for a minute, my body feeling heavy, languid from sleep, and the delicious soreness that had helped put me to bed.

My skin prickled with awareness, and I turned my head, my gaze clashing with Wilder’s. He was propped up on one elbow, his hazel eyes fixed on me, unblinking and burning with an intensity that made my breath hitch.

“How long have you been awake?” I asked, my voice still thick with sleep.

“Long enough.” His fingers brushed against my cheek.

The touch was light, like he was afraid I might vanish if he pressed too hard. “You’re beautiful when you sleep.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing? Watching me sleep?”

“I love watching you.”

I laughed softly. “You sound like a stalker.”

“I am.” His lips curled into a faint smile. “But you’re the only woman worth watching.”

His words made my stomach twist in the maddening way only he could, warmth blooming under my skin at his attention. There was something unshakable about the way he looked at me, like I was the center of his world, the axis his entire existence spun around. It was suffocating, overwhelming… and impossible to resist. I glanced across the room and saw it was only a little after 1 AM.

With a sigh, I closed my eyes and dragged the comforter higher, aware of how bare I was beneath.

After a minute or two, I laughed. “You’re still staring,” I rasped, though the complaint lacked any real bite.

“I can’t help it.” His voice dipped lower, his fingers trailing down my arm, igniting a path of heat as they went.

I opened my eyes and smiled at him. One would think that I’d be used to this by now, but he still easily made my heart race with just a look. He leaned down, his soft lips brushing against mine. The kiss started soft, almost tender, but it didn’t stay that way long.

His hand moved to cradle the back of my neck, holding me in place with a fervor that left me breathless. Every stroke of his tongue was a reminder that I was his. He pulled back just enough to whisper against my lips, his breath warm and heavy. “I need you.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “ Again ? We just—”

He cut me off with a wolfish grin, the kind that always sent my pulse skittering. “Don’t act like you don’t want me just as badly.”

Before I could argue that while that was true, he’d already fucked me twice, his lips were on mine again.

His hands slid down my body, the bedding tangling around us as he shoved it away. The cool air hit my skin, quickly replaced by his warmth.

His mouth trailed down my neck, lingering on the sensitive spot just below my ear before moving lower. He kissed a slow path down my collarbone, his lips and tongue working in tandem to drive me insane. When he reached the curve of my stomach, my body was already trembling beneath him.

“Wilder,” I whispered, but whatever protest I might’ve had dissolved the moment his mouth found its way between my thighs.

His tongue was slow at first, deliberate, teasing, as he licked me from top to bottom.

The sound I made was more of a gasp than a moan, my back arching off the bed as his lips sealed around my clit. He was relentless, his tongue moving in rapid, precise strokes.

His beautiful eyes met mine, a predatory smile playing on his lips. He knew exactly what he was doing. The control he had over my body was exhilarating. He moved his head back and forth, covering my entire pussy with his magical mouth.

My hands flew to his hair, tangling in the dark strands as he worked me over like he had all the time in the world. He gripped my thighs, holding me firmly in place as he dragged me closer and closer to the edge.

“Wilder,” I moaned his name.

His face was etched with concentration, but there was a hint of wickedness in his gaze that sent shivers down my spine. “Let go, baby.”

With a loud cry, my body tensed and then relaxed as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me.

He continued his assault, drawing out the orgasm for as long as he could, pulling me apart piece by piec e until I was left panting and dazed. When he finally kissed his way back up my body, I felt the weight of him settle over me again. His lips met mine in a deep, possessive kiss that had me tasting myself. A deep moan slipped from my throat as he slid inside me, slow and deliberate, like he was staking his claim all over again. He was so long and thick, filling me completely. I never got enough of this.

He fucked me slowly, bringing our bodies closer together with each stroke. "I never get enough of you.” He thrust deeper and my hands flew to his sides, grasping him tightly.

I couldn’t respond. I could barely think, lost in the way he filled me, the way his hands cradled my face.

He groaned, his forehead pressing against mine.

His words were a soft mantra, spoken with raw, unguarded emotion. “I love you. Fuck, I love you so much.”

A warmth bloomed in my chest, wrapping around the intensity of the moment. His eyes locked with mine, and the world outside us ceased to exist.

“Tell me you love me, Mint,” he murmured, his tone soft.

A shiver ran through me as I moaned his name, my body arching to meet his. Words escaped me, caught between the pleasure and the unrelenting pull of him.

His movements quickened, each thrust sending me spiraling further into the space we shared, a place that felt infinite and safe all at once.

“Say it.”

“I love you,” I managed, barely.

“Again,” he urged his hands tangling in my hair, grounding me as he moved faster, deeper.

“I love you,” I choked out, every nerve attuned to him, responding to the way he claimed me. His name spilled from my lips in a series of soft cries, my mind a haze of pleasure and connection.

The moment built between us, a crescendo of raw emotion and physicality. The sound of our bodies moving together filled the room, punctuated by my gasps and his low groans. I clung to him, my nails digging into his back as I spiraled closer to the edge.

His movements became harsher, each thrust a silent declaration of how deeply he needed me.

“Wilder,” I gasped, my voice breaking as the pleasure crested, a tidal wave that left me trembling beneath him as I came, my pussy clenching around his dick. He followed moments later, his release a warm pulse that sent aftershocks through my body.

He kissed me again, tender, and almost reverent like he was worshiping the very air I breathed.

He found my hands and laced our fingers together without breaking away.

We’d been doing this for years, yet every time felt just as intense and consuming—whether it was rough, gentle, or somewhere in between. Wilder had a way of making it feel like the first time, every time. I wasn’t sure if it was normal to sleep together as often as we did, but it worked for us. He was definitely a giver before he took for himself.

We stayed like that for a few minutes longer before he withdrew slowly. I immediately felt the loss.

I beamed at him and stretched. “Thanks for that.”

He laughed. “I feel like I just got a slap on the ass and told good game.”

“Same thing, really,” I joked, slowly sitting up.

“What are you doing?”

I ran my hands through my hair, forcing back a yawn. “Bathroom.”

“Let me have you for five more minutes.”

He didn’t give me much of a choice, already pulling me into his arms.

The phone buzzed on his side of the bed, the soft vibration breaking the silence in the room. I dozed back off at some point and vaguely remembered Wilder slipping out to grab a glass of water.

The same buzz came two more times and that was enough to fully get my attention. It was damn near 3 AM. That wasn’t the time for casual conversation, so who the hell was blowing him up?

I rolled over and grabbed the phone just as the preview for his group chat that he usually muted when we were together. It was only a few words, but that was enough to make my stomach drop. I told myself not to look. These were Wilder’s private messages—his life outside of us. Instinct, or maybe just raw curiosity, got the better of me. I quickly entered his pin, unlocking his cell and going right to the thread.

Thorne:

Got her in my sights. This will be fun.

Attached to that lovely text was an image, a bombshell of a woman in thin lingerie that left nothing to the imagination.

I hesitated, my pulse picking up speed as I listened for any sign that indicated Wilder was about to walk back into the room. I tried reasoning with myself that he was in a group chat with his friends, men I had come to think of as my brothers like he did. They were all gorgeous in their own way and single.

Talking about women was completely normal, but the tone of the messages was fucking gross and violating. I doubted these women had consented to be talked about like meat at an auction.

I continued to scroll, now invested.

Lucian:

Make it longer this time. Don’t want to lose the bonus.

Hunter:

Got another bid that’ll make this even more entertaining.

An image accompanied this one too, and she was just as gorgeous as the others.

“Who the fuck is KJ?” Their initials popped up a few times in the thread. They never actually responded directly, they just gave a thumbs up and hearted a few of the messages. Wilder’s entire group of friends were in the chat and that was the only name I didn’t know.

I clicked out of it, my hands trembling. The way they spoke was not coming across as men simply chasing ass or sharing inside jokes. Scrolling through his other text messages, I found… nothing. I bit my lip, the pang of suspicion growing stronger as I tapped into his recently deleted tab hoping if there was anything at all, it would be spam.

One quick scan proved that was not the case.

Right away, I could feel in my gut these weren’t meant for my eyes to see. I hesitated, fingers hovering over the first message. I knew I was about to cross a line, that I was on the edge of something that could ruin everything, including me. But ignorance wasn’t fucking bliss if my boyfriend was passing around community dick. I braced myself and opened the very first thread.

The texts were brief but suggestive, each one laced with an intimacy that sent a wave of nausea through me.

I scrolled until I saw a single photo that sent our entire relationship up in flames.

Amber fucking Hughes.

Her full lips were curled into a smug smile, posed in a way that showed every inch of her naked body. Perfectly manicured nails were on her chest, touching the delicate golden chain of the necklace she always wore.

She was beautiful and she knew it. Anger surged through me, hot and thick the longer I stared at her.

This bitch .

Of all people why did it have to be her? The spoiled, vindictive princess of Jared Hughes—a man I was semi-convinced was a sociopath. Amber had inherited his arrogance and then some, making my and my sister’s life hell from high school through college.

Beneath the picture was a text.

Amber:

Still up for our little rendezvous?

Wilder’s response made my head spin.

Wilder:

Depends on if you’re ready to behave. Don’t waste my time. I like obedience, not games.

My hands shook as I backed out of Amber’s messages. An insidious voice urged me to keep going, while every other fiber of my being was screaming to stop.

I’d already inserted the knife, why not keep twisting the blade?

The next thread had a name I didn’t recognize—Isla Martinez. I opened it and was met with another picture. She was stunning, with dark, flowing hair and eyes that challenged anyone who looked at her. She wore a slinky dress that hugged her curves, and her gaze was sultry, legs spread invitingly. Her text was no less suggestive than Amber’s.

Isla:

Waiting for you. Can’t wait to beg. You know how much I love when you make me wait.

I could practically hear the longing in her message, the familiarity, the way she spoke like she knew he’d come back to her, that she had a right to expect it. Then came his response, each word twisting the knife a little deeper just like I knew it would.

Wilder:

Patience, princess. I’ll get there when I’m ready. Don’t wear yourself out thinking about it. I like it better when you’re desperate.

The easy confidence was something I was familiar with but had never seen directed at anyone but me.

Isla:

Don’t make me wait too long. You know what happened last time.

Wilder:

Don’t get too needy. Last time was your lesson, remember? Maybe I need to remind you.

A fresh wave of nausea hit as I read his words, imagining the kind of history they must have had.

With a shaky breath, I forced myself to click out of their messages, the words already haunting me with a pain I couldn’t wish away. One more thread remained in the deleted folder, and as much as I didn’t want to know, I couldn’t stop myself from opening it.

Natalia Cruz.

Another woman I’d never heard of. I wasn’t sure if that made this better or worse when she was just as beautiful. A stunning blonde with striking green eyes, her beauty almost unreal. Her picture was a close-up shot of her flawless face, her lips parted slightly.

Natalia:

Can’t stop thinking about last time. Ready to make it even better?

I stared, numb, as I scrolled down to find his reply.

Wilder:

If you can handle it. Don’t disappoint me.

His phone was filled with conversations with women who were flawless, and stunning, like they’d stepped out of some forbidden dream.

“Motherfucker,” I breathed.

Just moments ago, we’d been fine. I’d been lying there, blissful, warm in his arms, trying to get the feeling back in my legs because he’d fucked me so hard.

And now…

Now, it was a miracle I still remembered to breathe. I set his phone back down carefully, as if handling it any other way would shatter whatever was left of my sanity. I slid out of bed, moving as quietly as possible, and started fumbling with my clothes.

My hands were trembling, my heart pounding so loud I was sure it would echo off the walls. I yanked my shirt over my head without bothering to search for my bra, my movements frantic.

I had to get the fuck out there. I couldn’t be near him. It was taking all I had to seriously hold myself in check. The door creaked open, and I froze. Wilder stood in the doorway, towering over me at his full 6'3" height, his broad, muscular frame filling the space. He was shirtless, dark sweatpants slung low on his hips, revealing his delicious V and his toned torso, a glass of water in his hand.

He looked at my flushed face and the hurried, frantic way I was pulling on my clothes, his brows knitting in confusion.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was calm yet laced with a hint of concern, like he couldn’t possibly fathom why I was acting this way.

I swallowed, forcing myself to look away from his piercing gaze, which always seemed to see more than I wanted him to. My eyes fell to the tattoo inked into the side of his chest, standing out against his fair skin, a raven perched atop a stopwatch with a skull shadowed beneath it.

I had seen it countless times, and traced the lines of it as I laid with him. Now it seemed darker, more ominous, like a reminder of secrets he kept buried.

I had no idea where my ability to speak went, why mouth chose then of all times not to work. Normally I never shut the fuck up. When I didn’t answer, he shut the door and took a step closer, observing me carefully.

“What happened, Mint?”

I finally lifted my gaze to his again. Whatever he saw on my face, had him looking from me to his cellphone. Asshole was always too damn quick-witted. I watched the moment it clicked—the realization settled over him like a shadow. He took a slow breath, his expression shifting to something unreadable. He did that well too, wore a mask of cool composure that never cracked.

“You looked at my phone,” he stated, his voice still calm. Too fucking lax for what I’d just seen.

Anger and hurt clawed their way up. “You’re not going to deny it? The pictures, the messages?”

He continued to study me, his silence louder than any words. He ran a hand through his dark hair. It was always cut in a clean, undercut style, usually swept back or slightly tousled. There was just enough length to allow him to rake his fingers through it, which was exactly what I’d been doing when his face was between my thighs.

He placed the water on his nightstand. “It’s not what you think.”

“Oh? Please do tell me what I think about the deleted text between you and that bitch-whore Amber Hughes.” Her name tasted like sour venom, each syllable twisting something painful in my chest.

“It was before you,” he admitted, his tone clipped.

Well, if that wasn’t the cherry on top of this shit sundae.

I almost gave him half a point for not lying, but then took it back because it fully dawned on me what he’d just revealed. My voice came out hoarse. “You... you fucked Amber before we got together?”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. His gaze stayed steady on mine. “Three times,” he replied, his tone cold and indifferent.

Don’t cry.

Don’t cry.

I clung to my anger, holding onto it like a lifeline, refusing to let the tears spill. I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. “And you didn’t think that was something you should have mentioned?”

“It was before you,” he repeated as if that made it better.

Somehow, that felt worse.

Everything about Amber, the snide comments, the looks she gave me any time we crossed paths, all of it suddenly made sense.

She’d always had this look, like she was keeping a secret, something she knew would destroy me. I thought back on their thread and the date they’d been sent.

“And while with me!” My fists clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms to keep from shaking. “I saw the texts, Wilder. Those were recent.”

“Mint.” He took another step towards me.

“This looks bad. I know, baby, but it isn’t what you’re thinking. I would never cheat on you. I’m a little insulted you’d go there.”

I silently started counting to ten.

I didn’t make it to five.

“Are you trying to gaslight me? You’r e a little insulted? I saw the text messages. I saw them with my goddamn eyes!”

“And I can promise you that what you saw and what the truth is, isn’t remotely the same. It’s…complicated,” he explained in such a calm manner I wanted to scream.

I let out a hollow, bitter laugh. “Oh, it’s complicated? What’s next, this isn’t what it looks like? Did you memorize the Dumbass Cheater’s Handbook for all the classic excuses?”

“I can’t say anything right now that will make this better other than that those texts were nothing more than work.”

I felt my mind spin, and then my voice rose, loud enough that the entire penthouse could hear. Not that it mattered. He and his dipshit friends owned the whole top floor.

“Work?” I echoed, anger and disbelief mixing into something dark. “How the fuck does your job have anything to do with screwing other women, Wilder? Huh? Is it some kind of status thing? You get a promotion or extra stocks for every girl you line up?”

He continued to stare at me, his expression eerily blank.

“Don’t just stand there. Help me make this make sense because all I see is you with a backup harem.” I ran a hand over my face. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Stop,” he warned lowly.

Did this motherfucker just tell me to stop?

“You know what?” I pointed toward the glass doors leading to his balcony. “We should have this conversation outside. You can explain how ‘work’ makes you a total piece of shit while you enjoy the view. You might get so carried away; that you’ll slip.”

He grinned, the kind of dark, twisted smile that didn’t belong in a conversation like this. His eyes raked over me, and he tilted his head, that grin widening. “You’re gorgeous when you’re murderous.” His voice was close to a purr.

“What the…what the fuck is wrong with you?” I was completely thrown, every warning bell in my head going off at once. I needed to get the hell away from him before I ended up as a highlight on Snapped or a true crime podcast.

“You know what. It doesn’t matter. The before, during, after—it all blurs together. I’m done, Wilder.”

I snatched my phone and key fob from the dresser, my mind racing. My things were scattered everywhere in this penthouse. Clothes in his drawers, my birth control in the bathroom, my favorite shampoo in the shower. I couldn’t stay to gather them, not when I felt like I was about to either fall apart or make headlines as a murder statistic. I turned to make a break for the door, but he was suddenly right there, looming over me, backing me against the wall, and caging me in.

“Done?” he questioned lowly. “I told you on our first date this was forever. Till we’re sharing a grave and whatever life comes next.”

Yeah. That was a blazing red flag I ignored like a colorblind fool.

“Pretty sure you having a dirty dick makes that null and void, you fucking psycho,” I damn near hissed.

He laughed. "Psycho? I think you almost meant it this time."

I glared, tallying up yet another red flag I ignored. If I sat and took stock of all of them, I could plant a whole damn forest.

His grin widened. "I love that you see me for who I really am. That’s what makes you so perfect for me, Mint."

I stared at him, my chest heaving, at a complete loss for words. How the hell could anyone say something like that and sound so damn sure of it? Oh, right. Wilder Carson.

“Was perfect you,” I couldn’t help but correct.

“You think I’d give you up for anything or anyone? Have you forgotten how obsessed I am with you?” He leaned back slightly, and his expression became contemplative. “I thought I did a good job showing it. I’ll have to do better.”

His audacity broke something loose in me.

I shoved him, my hands hitting his chest with everything I had, my anger surging to the surface. He stepped back, not because I’d managed to move him, but because he let me. The maddening grin never left his lips, his body a wall of control, radiating calm.

“You’re insane,” I spat, my hands trembling from the effort not to swing on him.

“And you love it.” He watched me like a predator indulging his prey. I damn near speed-walked toward the door. I flung it open with more force than necessary, the sound echoing. Just as I stepped into the hall, his voice followed.

“You’re everything to me, Mint. We’re not done. We can never be done. You start where I end, remember?”

I swallowed but didn’t look back. As I passed through the sleek, modern living space, I muttered a curse under my breath, a specific one directed at Wilder’s asshole friends.

They were all there, sprawled out on the plush sectional at nearly two in the morning, texting each other, their faces lit by the glow of their screens. Lucian, Thorne, Hunter, Atlas. Romeo’s crazy ass was God knows where. They were all in that thread and not a single one of them looked up, didn’t say a word.

They sat there, fingers tapping away in their little group chat. The whole scene was all around weird and unsettling, like some twisted cult gathering. I fought the urge to flip them off on my way out. I was done with this place, and as much as it was already killing me, I was done with the man I loved more than anything.