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He runs his hands along my arms. “With me… You’re mine, sweetheart. Or did you forget that?”

A rush of excitement causes my heart to flutter, and I look around before peering back up at him. “I haven’t forgotten, Micah. I’ve been here waiting for you for so fucking long. You’ve been the one missing.”

He keeps me locked tightly against him, his finger curling around one of my ringlets. “I’m back, London, and I’m not fucking going anywhere. But we have to leave now. Will you come with me?”

I scoff and push away from him. “How many times have you said that to me? And you’ve been back for what… a week? And suddenly, now, during your fucking funeral, it’s imperative we leave immediately?”

Three. Three times, he has promised not to leave me again. At some point, expecting a different outcome is the precise definition of insanity.

It’s how he is; he will come and go at his whim, and no amount of begging on my part will change that. There is no taming him, and if I want him, I have to accept all the dark parts of him. Dominant, angry, loving, and wild. All the reasons why I fell in love with him to begin with.

So, the question is… can I do it again?

“Let’s get out here,” I whisper.

There’s a primal flicker in his eyes as he takes hold of my hand, swiftly leading me toward a nearby exit. “Come on. Follow me.”

My heels barely stay on as I trip over my feet, so he pulls me into his arms like he’s done so many times before. His fingers graze my bare ass cheeks as they hang out of my dress.

Wild. He’s wild, like a child raised in a jungle. There is no going back to the way he was. He will never play by society’s rules. He’ll own me like he owns the woods, and now that he owns half this town, no one can really stop him.

My blood runs cold as voices echo in the hall behind us. I wrap my arms around his neck and shift myself into a more sensible position.

“Micah, this is Maison’s wake. Maybe we shouldn’t just leave. People will talk about it if they see us together.”

He carries me like I’m nothing, even though I’m much heavier than I was before. He takes me to the back of the building and leads me through a side door that leads into the woods, where he has a car waiting—a silver Mercedes, of all things.

He sets me down, pressing me against the side of the car. “Maison would have hated this,” he says.

He’s probably not wrong.

He kisses me hard and fast and with such emotion that it takes my breath away.

I let out a moan, and he pulls his soft lips off mine and runs his fingers over my cheek. “I’m sorry,” he says, out of breath. “I fucking missed you so much.” His teeth scrape my lips as he bites them. “These fucking lips…” He runs his fingers down my bare chest, playing with the strap of my dress before tightening his fingers around it. “I missed your fucking skin.”

I arch a brow and can’t help but let out a weak smile. “My skin? Really, Micah?”

He smirks. “Yes, your fucking skin.”

Voices carry from the front of the building, and Micah reaches behind and opens the door, gently nudging me into the passenger side.

The blonde reporter walks around the corner. “I think they are back here. Grab the camera and hurry.”

Micah slams the door and jumps to the driver’s side right as she and her cameraman come into view.

He peels out right past all the reporters and skids onto the road, leaving them in a cloud of dust. He peers at me, leans over, and pulls my seatbelt across my chest, clipping it in for me. “That bitch used to chase me around when Olivia died, too,” he says. “I’ve gotten good at ditching her.”

I catch my breath and dare to look at him, worried if I blink, he will disappear. That his voice is nothing but a hallucination, a dream I’ve had for months.

Despite how fast he’s driving, Micah appears relaxed. In fact, everything about him is different. He’s lighter, in a way. Not physically because he’s still the strongest guy I know, but he has a calmness I’ve never seen in him before.

The complete opposite of me, as I’m still burdened by a heavy weight. I can’t help but wonder if he can perceive that or sense that I haven’t been able to truly put myself together despite my facade of hair, makeup, and strappy dresses.

With a soft touch, he runs his fingers along my bare thighs, guiding my legs up over him as he drives. He keeps his fingers on the skin he apparently misses so much. I close my eyes and let myself relax, loving the sensation of his body next to mine.

We pass through the sleepy town. He drives right through it in the dead of night, then turns on a long, windy road in the woods. The silence between us reminds me of how it used to be when we could just be together. A stillness in the dark that brought joy to my soul in an otherwise icy prison. My heart is racing, and I can tell he can sense my tension.

I shoot up. “Micah, my mom. I have to tell her I’ve left with you. She’ll freak out if she finds me missing.” I don’t have anything with me, not even my purse, which I left at the table.