Page 20 of His Untamed Craving
Wyatt's answering look is one of pure, blazing certainty. "Then I'll join you."
The breath rushes from my lungs in a dizzying exhale. "You'll what?"
"I'll come with you," he repeats. "We'll be partners in every sense of the word. Traveling from spot to spot, chasing the rush and giving these people one hell of an up-close look at the action."
He lifts one hand to trace the curve of my cheek, holding my rapt stare. "And when we're not climbing mountains or running gnarly whitewater, we'll be here at Camp Silverpine, helping mold the next generation of thrill-seekers."
I'm rendered breathless, overwhelmed by the magnitude of what he's proposing. This is far bigger than any half-baked plan I could have ever concocted.
"Wyatt..." I breathe out his name in a reverent whisper. "This is... I don't even know what to say."
His answering smile is slow and devastating and so utterly him—a roguish twist of those rugged features that sends a molten rush of heat searing through my veins.
"Say yes," he rumbles, leaning closer. "Take a chance on this wildfire of ours and let's see just how bright it can burn together."
The words ignite something deep within me: a blazing inferno of desire and hope and sheer, unbridled longing. Without a moment's hesitation, I surge up and crush my mouth against his.
Wyatt rumbles his approval against my lips, one hand burying itself in the riot of my curls as he slants his mouth over mine with smoldering intensity. I whimper at the exquisite heat of it all, at the way his solid frame slots against mine with such seamless perfection.
We're so lost in our frenzied embrace that we don't hear the telltale sounds of an approaching group until a high-pitched peal of laughter pierces the air. Wyatt and I break apart, our ragged breaths intermingling in the scant space between us.
"Ew, gross! They're kissing!"
The indignant cry draws my gaze past Wyatt's powerful shoulders to find Zane grinning like a loon, one brawny arm looped around the small gaggle of campers now clustered at his side.
"You kids are just jealous," he calls out with a wink in our direction.
Wyatt chuckles, that rich, rumbling sound reverberating through me in delicious tremors. "You about ready to get out of here?" he murmurs, trailing his thumb over the seam of my lips.
I grin up at him, desire and exhilaration and sheer, unbridled possibility thrumming through my veins. "I know just the place," I murmur, arching one teasing brow.
Chapter 9
Wyatt
The roar of my truck's engine fades to a distant rumble as I kill the ignition. Glancing over at Daisy in the passenger seat, I drink in the sight of her—those wild raven curls tumbling over sun-kissed shoulders, full lips curved in a secret smile.
"Where are you taking me?" I can't quite keep the skepticism from my tone as I eye the secluded pullout area nestled deep in the heart of the mountains.
Rather than answering, Daisy simply winks and pushes open the door. I follow suit, the crisp alpine air filling my lungs as I round the front of the truck.
That's when I see a compact Mercedes Sprinter van parked off to the side, all sleek angles and vibrant shades of sunset orange and fiery crimson. I arch a brow at the unexpected splash of color amidst our rugged, forested surroundings.
Daisy flashes me a sly grin. "You like it? I had my brother Mateo help trick it out after I finally saved up enough for the van itself."
"You've got to be kidding me," I deadpan. "This is where we're...?"
Daisy's full-bodied laugh cuts me off as she sashays over, those hips swaying in a way that has my blood heating in my veins. "Yep, this is home sweet home." She reaches out to trail a fingertip along the van's bright exterior in an almost reverent caress. "Meet Calypso."
Crossing my arms over my chest, I regard Daisy with an assessing look. "So let me get this straight... you want us to shack up in that glorified tin can while we chase my stunts around the world?"
Those full lips quirk in a saucy smirk. "What, you think it's too small to handle all this?" She gestures down at her lush curves in a slow, teasing sweep.
Christ.
I have to swallow hard around the sudden tightness in my throat as a rush of lust slams into me like a rogue wave. "Somehow, I think we'll manage to make it work," I growl, already closing the distance between us.
But Daisy spins away, whirling on her heels and sauntering toward the van's rear doors. With a deft tug, she swings them open to reveal a compact yet surprisingly sleek interior decked out in warm, earthy tones.
