Wicked & Wildflower (Pacific Shores, #2)

by Sarah A. Bailey

“I wanted you to kiss me Saturday night,” she murmurs against my lips. “I was so sure you would when you came back to the door, but you didn’t.” I capture her lip between my teeth again, dragging slowly as I let it go. “Because I knew once I kissed you, I wouldn’t be able to stop,”

“Potrei annegare in questa figa. Muori qui. È mio. Tutto mio.”

“Your body is my new religion, baby.” I wrap both arms around her legs, gripping her inner knees. “Now, spread those thighs and baptize me.”

“Quiero vivir, ahogarme y morir entre tus piernas, cariño.”

I am, however, irrevocably hers.

“I see the way you look at me, Wildflower, and I want you to know that I’m seeing you the exact same way.” That’s not possible, I think to myself. Because he’s like the spring— warm and bright. I’m like the winter, like the water we’re standing in now, frigid and cold.

“How am I looking at you?” I ask him anyway. He drops his forehead to mine, and I can feel his lips move against my skin when he says, “Like you can’t fight it anymore.”

“Dahlia.” He takes half a step into my room before stopping himself, and I realize it’s because I haven’t invited him in yet. “I’m desperate for you. I don’t just want you. I fucking crave you.”

“Would you beg?” “Beg?” He huffs a laugh. “I’d fucking crawl.”

Everett’s jaw drops, snapping shut as he slowly lifts a brow. “That’s what you want, Wildflower? Do you want me on my knees, pleading for another taste of that pussy?”

My breath hitches as I watch him slowly—so fucking slowly—slide down the length of my bedroom door until he hits his knees. “I’m entranced by you, Dahlia.” He falls forward, bracing his weight on his arms. “Allured.” He beg...

“Open up for me, baby.” “Fuck.” His jaw drops immediately. “Are you my good boy?”

“Fuck me,” he growls, head snapping down to meet my gaze again. “Dammit, Dahlia. Please. Let me touch you.” He sits up, stretching over my bed to get a closer look, though his knees remain on the floor. “I’m being such a good boy for you, baby. I deserve my reward.”

“Have I proven what a good boy I am, baby?”

“Estas tan mojada. Tan estrecha. Eres perfecta, cariño,” he rasps against my lips. “Todo lo que siempre he querido. Te necesito para siempre. Dime que eres mía. Por favor. Mía, cariño. Sé mía.”

“Mierda. Me estás matando.”

“But the shade of blue staring back at me right now?” I let out a breath. “That shade only exists inside your eyes. It’s my favorite one.”

“I love your lips because when they touch mine, I’m reminded of what it’s like to feel something. I love your mouth because it says such sweet things to me.” I smile. “Such filthy things.” She blushes. “I love your mind because it challenges me and intrigues me and makes me think about the world differently. I love the way your brain works. I love the way you speak and think and feel.”

Next, I cup her breasts in each hand. “I love these,” I say. “Because they’re beautiful and full and they make me hard as fuck.” She dips her head, hiding a bashful laugh. “But I also love them because they fed your daughter. They made her healthy and happy, and that’s important to me. I understand why you struggle with the way your body looks now, but I need you to know that I find every piece of you perfect, even the things you see as flaws. Whe...

I slowly move down her body, squatting to my knees so I’m face to face with her navel. I run my thumb across the puckered scar at her abdomen. She shudders at the touch. A few faint stretch marks run along the length of her torso. “I love this because it grew one of my favorite people.” I flutter my eyes up to her, and she’s staring down at me with tears in her gaze. “I admire so much about your body, Dahlia, but most of all, this.” I touch the scar again. “The strength and bravery it took to carry her, to birth her, all on your own. You deserved better. You deserved love and support. But even without it, you’re an incredible mother. She’s an incredible kid. I’m in utter awe of you every day. These scars only add to that.”

“I love these legs too. I love the way they feel wrapped around my face.” I smirk. “I love that they carried you into that dive bar— right into my life.” I press a kiss to her thigh. “When I look back on that night, I realize I think I’d been waiting for you all along. I just didn’t know it yet. I was going through the motions. Living, but not thriving. No direction. No purpose. Then, you walked in with that fucking guy, and my world flipped on its axis. You’re the only thing I’ve seen ever since.”

“I knew your name. Years ago, Darby talked about you all the time. Her wild and free older sister. Her best friend. She talked about how much you’d love Pacific Shores and all of us. How much she missed you.” I bring my hands to her hips, holding her tight against me. “I knew your fucking name, Dahlia. You were so goddamn close, and yet so far away from me. If I had asked more questions, asked to see a picture, would it have clicked?” I breathe against her soft, sweet skin. “Would I have seen your face and known instantly what you would become to me? Could I have been the one to save you from that house? Help you escape it?”

“What have I become to you?” she whispers, as if she’s afraid to ponder those questions too. I lift my head and find my whole world in that sapphire gaze. “My purpose.”

I’ll never be bored with Dahlia—listening to her speak, watching her laugh. Something about her feels etched into my bones, like I found something I didn’t know I was searching my entire life for.

I’ve always thought Pacific Shores was home to me, but now, I wonder if it’s just where I live. Because falling asleep beside her… That was the first time in my life I’ve felt that soul-deep belonging I think truly bears the meaning of the word. She feels like home.

I nod. “You’re her safe place, but I want to be yours.”

“Not everything,” she whispers. “Everyone has some ugly in them too.” “Then show me yours.” I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “I want to see it. I want to see all of you.” I know there’s nothing about her I’d ever find ugly, even her darkest parts. But as long as she’s convinced there are pieces of her that need to be hidden, I’m going to work to convince her to let me see them anyway.

“Why would you want to see my ugly sides?” she asks. I smile, running my thumb along the soft skin of her cheek. “Because showing me your ugly and watching me stay is the only way I’m gonna prove to you how real this is.”

“You’re that little thread of gold.” There’s some shuffling in the kitchen, and Lou laughs again. “Don’t forget that, okay? You’re meant to be. You’re a fucking cool kid, and I want you to remember that if anyone ever tries telling you otherwise, got it?”

“Se mia per sempre.”

“You deserved to know that you’re loved, Dahlia. Loved by me.”

“Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. The hard part is that you won’t let me.” Reaching up to softly cup my face, he continues, “My love isn’t fickle, Dahlia. I’m not afraid to fight for you. For us. Every second of every day, if that’s what it takes. I’m not afraid of imperfection or reality. I’m not afraid of your broken pieces.” He runs his thumb along my cheek. “I’m broken too, but together, we can be whole.” Everett smiles, emotion glistening behind his amber eyes. “You’re everything I’ve been searching for my entire life and never believed I’d find. I know you think you’re not worth fighting for, baby, but just give me the chance to show you you're wrong.”

“You’re my wildflower.” He lets out a breathless laugh. “You blew into town one day on a whim and planted yourself right inside my soul. You’re rooted in me now, baby. I don’t mind waiting to watch you bloom.”

“I’ve been waiting my whole life to love you, Dahlia. We’ve got nothing but time.”

“No, this is where I live. Where I grew up. Where my family is. That’s all true.” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “But you and your daughter are my home.” Dragging his hand down my neck, he grasps the necklace at the center of my throat. “You’re my compass, Wildflower. I’ll follow you forever, because that’s where I find home.”

“T–Ti ho…a–aspettato per tutta…mia vita.”

He reaches out, fingers dancing along the hollow of my throat and smearing the release spread across my skin. “You look so pretty with a pearl necklace.”

A little while later, as Dahlia’s breath—heavy with sleep—lands against my chest, I don't feel quite so hopeless. I run my fingers through her hair, and the darkness doesn’t feel quite so all-consuming. The exhaustion isn’t quite so heavy. In my arms, she’s my peace.

“So listen here, you waste of oxygen: you come around my future wife or my kid again, I won’t stop until they have to peel your flesh from the pavement.”

“Wouldn’t worry about that, sir.” I smile, watching Jason’s eyes blow wide. “I fucked all those daddy issues right out of her pretty head.” Knowing it’ll twist the knife further, I add, “The only man she’ll be calling daddy from now on is me.”

“Here’s my friendly piece of advice: don’t ever come back here, and don’t ever bother my family again, or I will actually kill you. If I were you, I’d take your sweet time heading back to Kansas and do what you can to cut all connections to Dane Andrews, because I’m going to end him too.”

“Your kid?” “Yes.” He smiles, cupping my jaw and brushing his thumb across my cheek. “My kid. My woman. For as long as you both will have me.”

“I…I guess I just want you both to know how cherished you are. We are so grateful you found our boys. That we get to have you—and Lou,” he pauses, smiling at me, “in our lives.” He blinks rapidly, as if attempting to fight off tears. “We always wanted a big family, a ton of kids. After Monica had some complications with the twins, she wasn’t able to get pregnant again, and we accepted that for what it was. When Leo came to us, we didn’t hesitate to make him ours. We thought…maybe it didn’t work out all those years ago for a bigger reason. Maybe we were meant to have more kids, they just hadn’t found us yet.” His bottom lip trembles beneath his smile. “I believe that now more than ever. Now that we have you.”

My world. It’s her.

Because she’s a love song. She’s not words. She’s music. She’s harmony. Fucking peace.

“Wherever we want. Next to the front door or in the grocery store. If I feel like dancing with my girls, I’m going to do exactly that, so you better get used to it.”

I’ve finally found everything I’ve been searching for.

“The night I got back from New York. Leo and I went to see August while you and Darby were asleep. I’d been thinking about it for a long while before that, though.” She shakes her head, tracing the dahlias that spread wide over my pec and up to my shoulder. “You’re my compass, wildflower,” I repeat the words I said to her weeks ago. “You’re where I find home.”

It’s a compass, needle pointing southwest, because that's the direction she was going when she came to find me. Nestled behind it are orange dahlias, a cluster of other wildflowers accented within them.

She tilts her head as she studies it further, a finger outlining the golden thread that wraps around the compass, weaving between the petals of the flowers. “What is this?” she asks. “Our invisible string. Our thread of gold. Our light. Nuestra luz.”