Page 122 of Wild

Does she think I’m going to propose or some shit?

What have I done?

I clear my throat again, pushing my worries aside and watching Mia as she looks around taking everything in.

“This is so beautiful, Hollis. I can’t believe you’d do something like this for me.”

When her blue eyes meet mine, they shimmer with barely contained emotions.

“I wanted our first official date to be something you’d never forget.”

Her eyes have strayed around once more, but drift back to me. A smile tugs her lips. “You never do anything small do you?”

“Baby, there’s nothing small about me.”

She rolls her eyes and I chuckle.

“Are you ready for dinner, Mr. Wilder?” The male staff member steps forward.

“Yes, now would be great, thanks.”

He nods and leaves.

Mia raises a brow. “Mr. Wilder? Hmm, I like the sound of that.”

I lower my voice to a gravelly growl. “You can call me Mr. Wilder any time you want. Preferably naked. Tied up. Completely exposed and bared to me.”

She twists in her seat and coughs, and I know I’m getting her worked up.

I love watching her get turned on, all the tells her body has. She’s not even aware of them. Like the way her eyes darken, and she licks her lips. She also tends to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear or at least play with a strand.

“How did you think to do this?” she asks.

I shrug. “I didn’t want to take you to a basic restaurant. I knew I had to get creative.”

“This is incredible. Truly.”

“I think you know by now I’d do anything for you.”

“Why?” she asks, her head tilted, and eyes puzzled. “Why me? Why is this different?”

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “It just is.”

She swallows and nods. “As much as I wish there was a real solid explanation for this, for us, you’re right. Some things are unexplainable. We’re one of them.”

I grab the bottle of wine, uncorking it, and fill each of our glasses. I’m not a wine guy, but tonight I am. I need something to take the edge off the nerves dancing just below my skin.

She picks up her glass, swirling the wine around before taking a small sip. I watch her movements. Everything about her is fascinating to me. She’s like an intricate work of art I could stare at all day and still not unlock all its secrets.

“Why are you staring at me?” she asks, holding her wine glass partially in front of her face to hide.

“Because I want to,” I answer honestly.

She blushes, hiding behind her hair.

“The dinner you requested, Mr. Wilder,” the man returns, setting our plates down.

“Thank you,” we both tell him.