“How can you possibly know what I need?”
He lifts my chin, searching my eyes. “I have no idea. Do you?”
He wipes away the last of my tears, and as I search those wild eyes, my breath steadies.
“And what do you need, Nico?” I ask. “From me… from anyone?”
“To win races. To be the best. Trophies, globes…” He shrugs.
“Why me, then?” I press, needing to understand.
“You’re—” He stops, looking away.
“A trophy?” I arch a brow.
“It sounded right when I said it before. It was sexy…”
“And true.”
“I guess it’s not fair to you…”
“At least you’re honest,” I say.
“As if it helps.”
“Nico,” I say, meeting his gaze. “In my world, honesty is the rarest thing.”
He holds my gaze, jaw flexing, thumb moving in slow circles on my hip. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?” he says quietly. “I make you feel too much.”
I shake my head. “You’re so sweet. You’re infuriating. I don’t know how to handle that.”
“And you—” He brushes a fingertip through my hair. “You’re the wildest thing I’ve ever claimed.”
I lift my head, meeting his eyes. “So what now, Nico? Tame me, or set me free?”
He holds my gaze, lips curving into a hungry grin that makes my pulse roar. “Neither. And still, I’m keeping you.”
I might oppose, tell him how impossible his claim is. Instead, I smile.
I kiss him gently, relishing his lips, the lingering taste of cheap wine, sweat still glistening on his skin. I hate that he owned me back then, hate that he made me beg.
But one thing is clear: he is the truest, purest thing that’s ever happened to me. And he’s wrong. He’s the wild thing here. The real question is whether I want to tame him… or let him go.
Chapter 3
The Cold Spot
Playlist:
Lindsey Stirling: Song of the Caged Bird
Naomi Scott: Speechless
