Out of Control (Untamed #2) (17 page)

I took a step toward him, but he stepped back. So I just kept moving until he was backed up against the wall, my body tightly pressing against his.

“I’m yours, Dare Wilde,” I said. “Completely yours. Don’t ever doubt that. There is nothing going on between Archer and me. We had dinner tonight because we’re good friends.”

“Without any benefits?” His eyes narrowed, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“You’re the only one on my benefits plan.” I pressed closer into him, feeling him hardening at the contact. “I promise.”

“Good.” He lowered his head to whisper against my mouth. “Because in order to enjoy all the wickedly delightful things I have planned for us, you’ll have to be mine. All mine.”

I was suddenly wet with want. “I am all yours.” Taking hold of his hand, I guided it up under my dress, slid it over my stomach and down into my panties, opening my legs to let him feel me.

He groaned as he began to stroke me, his fingers slipping deep inside me, drawing moans from my lips.

“See?” I panted, my breaths short and quick as my body tingled from his touch. “That’s all you. Just you. You made me like that.” I kissed him hard on the mouth, pulling his bottom lip between my teeth. “Now,” I said, staring into his deep, dark eyes, “I dare you to do something about it.”

Fifteen minutes later, I was trying really hard not to blush as we came back out of my room. We hadn’t made a sound, but by the looks on their faces Dalia and Dax knew. Dare glared at Dax and took a swipe at the shit-eating grin on his face, but Dax dodged it easily. He lunged at Dare, crashing into him and tackling him to the ground, pinning Dare on his back.

“Not so much the little brother anymore, am I?” Dax said, laughing. He shook his head. “You’ve gotten soft in your old age, you know that, Dare?”

Dare tried to throw him off but couldn’t, causing Dax to crow in triumph.

Dalia rolled her eyes, crossed her arms over her chest, and sank her weight into one hip. “Sometimes you two are such BOYS.”

“Okay, okay,” Dare said. “Get up.”

Dax started to climb off of him, but Dare swung his leg up, knocking Dax forward, and wrestled him onto the ground, his knees digging into Dax’s back.

“Hey!” Dax yelled. “I call foul. You gave up.”

Dare leaned his face next to Dax’s ear and said, “I don’t ever give up, little bro.
Ever
.”

“But you said it!”

“I said
get up
, not
give up
. Clean out your ears.” He smacked the back of Dax’s head and leaned a little harder on his back as Dax grunted in pain. “I can’t hear you saying
uncle
…”

“That’s because I’m not—
OW!
Okay, okay. Uncle, asshole.”

Dalia turned to me. “That is totally what Dax’s future kids will call Dare. He’ll be Uncle Asshole, I have no doubt.”

Dare gave one last lean into Dax. “They better not,” he said, and laughed. “And those future rug rats better not exist for a while. A
long
while.” Then he got up and helped Dax to his feet.

Watching the three of them laugh and play around together filled me with happiness. They so clearly cared about each other in a way that ran deeper than just the blood that flowed through their veins. All the advantages of my life and privileged existence was worthless compared to what Dare and his family had.

And while I didn’t totally understand this kind of family, I yearned for it.

It was like I’d spent a lifetime in withdrawal, and just a taste—a single glimpse—had me craving it like a drug.

nineteen

I
was a nervous wreck as I approached the gallery. I’d spent the morning and early afternoon with my stomach in knots—equal parts excited and nervous for Dare. This show was huge. It could be his big break.

I’d taken extra care getting ready because I wanted everything to be perfect for him, including me. My dress was a deep blue vintage number that floated around me in soft silkiness. My hair hung down my back, long and straight. As always, my makeup was minimal—just eyeliner, mascara, and a touch of lip gloss.

I looked good. I felt good. And I was ready to cheer Dare on as he stood in his well-deserved spotlight.

Now, as I smoothed my hair, the butterflies in my stomach awoke. Everything felt monumental today—every little piece of this day was filled with purpose and meaning.

Okay. I needed to calm the fuck down.

I took a deep breath and headed for the gallery door.

“Ree!” Dalia and Dax were walking up the street from the other direction. I couldn’t believe how good it felt to see them—I’d never felt this with any of my friends, never really missed any of them before. Other than Archer. And even that felt different than the feeling I got with the twins.

When I was with Dare and his family, I
belonged
—not in the same way that they belonged to each other, but I felt like I was welcome, that I was wanted and valued just for being me. It was heady stuff. I was pretty sure I was falling in love with the Wildes.

“You look gorgeous,” Dalia said when they reached me. “That dress is amazing.”

“Thanks,” I said, actually blushing. Good god, who was I? “You both look fantastic.”

Dalia beamed at me while Dax didn’t even bother being coy about checking me out. I was just about to call him on it when the gallery door opened behind me.

“Eyes up, Dax,” Dare said as he slid his arms around me from behind. I leaned into him as he breathed me in. “You smell so good,” he said softly in my ear. “I could devour you right here. Right now.”

I turned my head so my lips were right next to his ear. “I dare you,” I whispered.

His hands fisted in my dress and his chest vibrated with deep laughter, this incredibly happy, entirely free sound I hadn’t heard in years. It melted my insides as I turned in his arms to look at him.

He reached up and touched my lips.

“You’re smiling,” he said. “I love it.”

Me too. I never wanted to stop.

When I finally walked into the gallery, the surroundings took my breath away. There were beautiful nudes everywhere, years of paintings Dare had done as well as the new ones he’d just finished. I could see a progression of my facial expressions he’d captured over the past weeks—from bittersweet to yearning to lustful to content. He’d portrayed the beginning of our re-relationship on canvas.

But the biggest surprise was the nudes of me from three years ago—paintings he must have done from his sketches. I was everywhere, nearly filling the entire room. Other models were scattered in between like passing moments in Dare’s life, but the installation was mostly focused on me.

I walked around the gallery, taking in one after another, my heart beating louder and faster with each painting. I hadn’t realized it when I’d first come across the ones on display at Montmartre, but those were me too. I could see it now. Every one had been painted from memory, most of the early ones hiding my face in one way or another. Almost like Dare hadn’t been able to look at me, even though he couldn’t help but paint me.

In the middle of it all, her bright smile shining, was
Real Ree.
The very first painting Dare had ever done of me. The one that had not been at the show at La Période Bleue three years ago. Back then, I’d thought that Dare hadn’t put it in the show because he hated me and had decided to destroy it, but it turned out he’d taken it with him when he left.

Oh, my god.

He’d taken ME with him.

I tore my gaze from his work and searched the room for Dare. He was all the way on the other side, standing with Dax and Dalia and one of the gallery owners, but his eyes were intent on me, watching me. I had a feeling he’d been watching me since I first walked in, wanting to gauge my reaction at this revelation. The evidence was up on the walls. He’d never stopped loving me. And it
was
love, I could see that so clearly, could feel it in my heart even though we’d never actually put that label on our feelings.

It felt real.

It made
me
feel real.

I loved him.

My god. I
loved
him so fucking much. And I couldn’t wait to tell him.

Tonight. After his show.

An incredible, albeit unfamiliar feeling bloomed within my chest, filling me with so much light I was sure my feet would lift off the ground at any moment.

I stared at Dare, tears in my eyes, and held up two fingers.
Two parts
.

He held up one finger.
One whole.

This was it.

This was the life I wanted.

This was where I belonged. With Dare. The man who had taught me to love.

A burst of strength flowed through my veins. I would fight for him no matter what happened. Because we needed to be together.

My life was my own. Dare was my future—not Harvard, not my parents, not my father’s political career. Dare.

My phone rang, and I reached into my clutch to pull it out.

Mother
.

Perfect fucking timing. She always knew how to shit on my parade. My heart pounded like I’d been caught in the act, which was stupid because she didn’t have a clue as to what was coming, in how many ways my life was going to veer off from her manicured path.

It was my path now.

Mine and Dare’s.

twenty

I
ignored her call and a minute later she called again.

And again.

And again.

And it was starting to really piss me off. So the next time she called, I answered. Just to tell her to—

“Reagan!” Shit. She sounded too happy again.
Something
was going on, and I had no clue what, which made me feel helpless. She was the master at that.

Why the fuck had I answered the phone?

“What is it, Mother?” I snapped, turning to face the wall.

“Your father just finished a press conference.”

“THAT’s what you’re calling me about? Seriously?” She was un-
fucking
-believable. “Did he finally tell everyone he’s running for governor?”

“No, your father demurred again, and the people there were practically
begging
him to run. It is all going exactly as we planned.” What a crock of shit. I was so glad to be out of it. “We just wished you and Archer could have been here to enjoy it with us. You should see the way the press is running after Quincy and Pierce. You would think we were celebrities! Some reporters are actually on their way to your hotel right now to get your reaction.”