To Love a Wilde by Kimberly Kaye Terry

God, you scared me to death,” she said, her hand splayed over her chest.
    He pushed away from the door and walked farther into the stall toward her. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to frighten you. I saw you leave the party.”
    When he said nothing more, she raised a brow. “And?”
    “And, I decided to follow you. Is that okay?” he asked, coming farther inside until he stood less than a foot away from her. He reached out a hand and ran it over the horse’s silky mane. Holt felt her tension as soon as he stood near her. She glanced away, back to the horse, continuing to run her hand over it.
    “Won’t your girlfriend miss you?” Although her face was in profile, when she asked the question he saw the blush that stained her pretty brown skin.
    “So … you did notice me,” he murmured, stopping when he was less than a foot away from her. “I wasn’t too sure of that. You seemed to have your fair amount of … attention,” he replied.
    She glanced his way and rolled her eyes, then turned back to the horse, slowly running her hands over its silky nuzzle. When it butted against her hand, she withdrew two more of the sugar cubes and fed them to the questing mouth. “Who wouldn’t, with the way you two were carrying on?”
    Holt laughed outright. “Carrying on? Surely that’s a bit strong, Yas,” he said, and purposely allowed his hand to brush against hers as she stroked the horse’s muzzle.
    He wasn’t sure if he should be angry or pleased when she snatched her hand away as though his touch burned her.
    She shrugged. “Nothing’s changed, I see.”
    “Meaning?” She still kept her face in profile, but he saw the tightening of her jaw and frowned.
    “Forget it.” She shook her head, blowing out a breath. “Doesn’t matter.”
    He stepped closer, placing two fingers beneath her chin, forcing her to look up at him.
    “No. It does matter. You matter … Now, what did you mean?”
    As he stared down into her upturned face, his frown intensified when he noted the way she quickly looked away from him, as though she couldn’t stand to look at him.
    “Yas …”
    She brushed his hand away, forcing him to drop it at his side.
    “Just forget it, Holt.”
    More curious than ever, instead of dropping it, he crowded her space even more, forcing her to look up at him.
    Yasmine knew she should just shut up, just let him think whatever he wanted to think. But irritation with him was riding high. He was just too damn confident. No man should look as good as he did, have a voice that deep and sexy, and ooze sex with just a few chosen words.
    She inhaled a deep breath. No man should smell like he did …
    He stepped closer, crowding her space even more. She turned her head to the side, avoiding … him.
    “Please …”
    She felt his thumb beneath her chin, lifting it and forcing her to look up at him.
    “You didn’t answer my question, Yas,” he murmured, his eyes trained directly on her lips.
    Her tongue snaked out to lick her bottom rim.
    “Meaning you’re the same hotshot lover, the same guy who had time for every other girl but me. The same guy who …” She broke off, wanting to bite out her own tongue.
    Damn him. Damn him for almost making her admit that he was the same man who had invaded her dreams in adolescence and hadn’t let up since.
    Yasmine was more than disgusted with herself. She thought she had it together. Thought she could handle coming home. Thought she could be the one to turn the tables on him.
    She was a certified nutcase. She had to be, in thinking she could ever teach Holt a lesson, make him see her as anything other than what he always had—that little chubby girl she had been so long ago, crushin’ on a boy who barely knew she existed.
    She drew in a deep breath, the air caught at the back of her throat when she felt his long, lean fingers thumb her chin upward, forcing her to look at him.
    She held the indrawn breath, her heart beating a harsh rhythm against her breast when she