Page 4 of Sins of Autumn

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.