Page 84 of Stay Wild Darlin’

He liked it.

32

Dalton

It all went by in a blur.

The ride. The crowd. The chaos after the buzzer. Flashbulbs. Claps on the back.

By the time we got back home to Lindley, I was running on fumes and adrenaline, but it still felt damn good.

Poppy had already gotten Cora to bed. I passed her room on my way down the hall—she was out cold, her little butt in the air, pacifier clinging to the corner of her mouth. She didn’t care that her daddy had won another event. She wanted sleep and her hypoallergenic liquid gold.

I headed out to the garage, still in my jeans, boots kicked off by the door.

The check was still in my hand. $40,000. It wasn’t the real thing, but a good reminder of how hard I’d worked.

It was about proving to myself I could still do it. That I still had it. That all the time off, all the changes, all the early mornings and long nights with a baby and a past that threatened to drown me some days—none of it had taken this from me.

Not the ride.

Not the win.

Somewhere in the middle of all that noise, there was her and what happened with her . . . that wasn’t just sex.

It felt like something else. Something that got under my skin in a way that had nothing to do with rope or heat or how good she sounded when she said my name.

It hadn’t felt like something I could walk away from and forget.

Hell, the way she looked afterward—in my robe, holding my kid. I rubbed the back of my neck, that familiar ache settling into my shoulders, and let out a slow breath.

There was the win and then there was her.

I ran a hand down my face, exhaled hard through my nose, and said it out loud before I could stop myself.

“Fuck it.”

I turned around and walked straight inside.

The hallway floor creaked under my bare feet. Her door was cracked open, warm light spilling out. I didn’t knock. I pushed open the door and stepped in.

She was halfway through unpacking, her suitcase open on the bed. She looked up when she heard me.

“Come here, darlin’,” I said as I stepped toward her. “I missed you.”

I pressed my mouth to hers—because in the twelve hours I hadn’t kissed her, I missed her.

The adrenaline from the win had worn off, leaving that familiar ache behind—the one only she seemed to settle.

She was wearing a white tank again, the soft curve of her shoulder bare, and a pair of pink jeans that hugged her right. Yeah, I wanted to know if she was naked underneath again.

“I missed you,” she barely whispered.

I grabbed her by the ass, dragging her flush against me, and she let out a quiet giggle that had no business wrecking me the way it did.

Her fingers curled in my shirt like she didn’t want to let go. Hell, I didn’t want her to. I kissed her slow, deep—like she was mine and I was finally letting myself feel it.

When I pulled back, I kept my forehead pressed to hers. “I’m not gonna get enough of you,” I said, brushing my thumb over her cheek, down along her jaw. “Tell me I can have you again.”