Page 85 of Stay Wild Darlin’

She let out a quiet moan.

“I need to hear it, darlin’,” I whispered. “Not just feel it. Not guess. I need the words.”

She blinked up at me, lips parted, flushed and warm and already coming undone from this. “You can have me,” she breathed. “However you want. However many times you want.”

I moved one hand to her hip, gripping tight. “I should probably warn you,” I murmured, leaning in closer, brushing my nose along hers, “this is gonna blur the line.”

“Dalton.” She laughed. “The line between boss and nanny blurred the second I saw you.”

I groaned, laughing low in my throat as I kissed her again—harder this time. Hungrier.

“We’re both adults . . . with strong feelings . . . and very clear sexual chemistry.”

I smirked, couldn’t help it. “Yeah, darlin’, I noticed.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “What I’m saying is—we can be adults. We can be professional and still enjoy each other, right?”

I tilted my head, brushing her hair back behind her ear. “You tellin’ me we can keep things clean around Cora and still get dirty after bedtime?”

She bit her lip, laughing under her breath. “Exactly that.”

I looked at her, and damn if I didn’t feel something settle deep in my chest.

“I’m in,” I said, brushing my knuckles down her side. “I’m warnin’ you now, if we’re enjoyin’ each other, I’m gonna do it fully. I don’t do half measures, Poppy.”

“I wouldn’t want you to,” she whispered.

“Trust me?”

She nodded without hesitation.

“Follow me.”

I laced my fingers through hers and led her outside, the quiet night wrapping around us like a secret. The porch creaked under our steps. Crickets hummed somewhere off in the dark and the baby monitor buzzed slightly.

She didn’t ask where we were going.

I pushed open the side door to the garage and flicked on the light. The air was cooler in here, still smelling faintly of leather, oil, and cedar shavings.

Once we were inside, I turned to her. “What’s your safe word?” I asked, holding her gaze.

“Spurs,” she said.

I nodded.

My heart was beating more slowly now. Not out of nerves. Out of focus.

I’d never done this. Ever.

I’d set it up once. Put in the anchor points, tucked the rope into a clean drawer, checked the light, measured the height. Everything.

Back then, Brooke and I were still circling each other, still finding our way back to each other in the dark, and I’d let myself think maybe one day I’d show her this side of me.

I never did.

That belonged to another time. Another version of me. The kind that still thought wanting something was enough to make it real.

But this? Her?