Free Running Wilde by Tonya Burrows Page A

he’d hated seeing it. Not because he envied his twin’s happiness, but because the wedding festivities and all the love in the air had left him feeling restless, lonely, and horny, and the only woman who had caught his eye wasn’t interested.
    After getting a good tongue lashing from Eva for being an ass, he’d spent the rest of the evening in the hotel bar, drinking until he didn’t feel anything anymore. Then when the room started to wobble, he’d wandered out to the beach for some air—and there she’d been.
    Sinful blue dress and all, sitting underneath a palm tree as the breeze lightly rustled the fronds, making them dance in the moonlight. At first he’d thought he was hallucinating, the overdose of alcohol in his system making him see what he wanted to see.
    “Lark?” He’d said her name more to make sure she was real and not a figment of his imagination.
    She’d looked over at him, then drawn her knees up and rested her head on them. “Go away.”
    He’d planned on it, but his feet had carried him forward over the sand, and he’d lowered himself down beside her instead. “You okay?”
    “If by ‘okay’ you mean ‘a blind idiot’, then yes, I’m okay.”
    Oh hell. Drama. He hadn’t wanted to get in the middle of it. Shouldn’t have gotten in the middle of it—but he’d been drunk and his mouth had worked before his brain told him to leave. “I don’t think you’re an idiot.”
    “Ha. You don’t know me. And if you say you’d like to get to know me, I’ll punch you.”
    He’d grinned. “I won’t say it then, but that doesn’t make it any less true.”
    With a sigh, she’d lifted her head, stared out over the ocean. “You’re cute, I’ll give you that.”
    Cute? He hadn’t been considered cute since he was in diapers, and maybe not even then. Most people saw him the same way they saw pit bulls—a dangerous creature to avoid and, if forced to interact, take extra precautions around.
    He’d scowled at her. “Are you one of those people who think pit bulls are misunderstood?”
    She’d glanced over, eyebrows raised in question, and heat had crawled up the back of his neck. This convo was exactly the reason he never got this drunk—the filter between his brain and his mouth shut off, and all kinds of stupidity came pouring out. “Forget I said that.”
    “Yes,” she’d said and a smile had softened her lips. “I am. Pit bulls are beautiful animals and don’t deserve their reputation.”
    “That’s why you think I’m cute.”
    Her smile had spread into a grin. “Aw. Did I bruise your ego? I’m sorry. You’re the biggest, baddest badass this side of the Mississippi, and you’re absolutely, positively not cute. That better?”
    He’d brooded over the bottle of beer he’d brought out with him. “Now you’re just fucking with me.”
    Something had changed in that instant. He’d been drunk, but he would’ve had to have been dead to miss the spark and flare of lust igniting in the space between them.
    She’d shifted toward him. “Earlier, in the elevator, you were looking for someone to spend the night with. You wanted sex.”
    He’d lifted a shoulder in response. No sense in denying it. “You turned me down.”
    “What if I’ve reconsidered?”
    He’d shaken his head, lifted his bottle, and taken a swig to cool his suddenly dry throat. “Wouldn’t matter. You said you’re engaged, and I don’t fuck around with other men’s women.”
    “Guess what?” She’d leaned in until her lips hovered inches above his, and her hand wandered up his leg to his cock. “As of an hour ago, I’m not engaged anymore. And I could really use a night of meaningless sex.” She’d squeezed him, and he’d hissed out a breath. “What about you?”
    Sober, he would have had a difficult time turning her down. Drunk, he hadn’t stood a chance, and as he’d dropped his mouth to hers, he’d realized he wasn’t the only one who had gotten a little sloppy tonight. She had