Wild Desire: A Curvy Girl Steamy Romance (Wild Heart Mountain: Wild Rider’s MC Book 14)

As I cling to the back of Specs on the motorbike, the anxiety in my stomach slowly slips away.

We had one night making out, and here I am throwing myself at him and asking to stay. But despite the imposition, he’s calm and understanding and sincere.

His words echo around my brain. He wants me to be his woman, but he’s leaving it up to me. I press against him, and his warmth and the whir of the motorbike calms my mind. I don’t know what I want, but right now, in this moment, being on the back of Specs’s bike feels damn good.

We turn off the main road down a gravel road. Thick trees line the narrow path and grow so close together that only narrow shafts of sunlight break through.

The bike slows as we get to the end of the path, and I realize this is Specs’s driveway. We come out into a clearing, and a neat wooden cabin squats in the middle.

The cabin is dwarfed by the giant sycamore trees surrounding it. A wooden porch runs around the outside of the cabin, and a single rocking chair sits next to a small wooden table. Large ceramic pots line the wall, and as we walk up the stairs to the door, I breathe in the scents of sage, rosemary, and lavender.

“It’s an herb garden,” I murmur. “I didn’t know you were into gardening.”

Specs chuckles. “I’m into cooking. And you can’t beat having fresh herbs at your doorstep.”

He unlocks the door and holds it open for me to step inside.

The inside of the cabin smells like baked bread and a mixture of herbs. On the kitchen counter sits a fresh loaf of bread, still in its pan.

“I was baking when I got your call,” Specs says. “It had just come out of the oven, and I didn’t have time to turn it out.”

He moves over to the kitchen and pulls a cooling rack from a cupboard and expertly tips the loaf upside down. It plops onto the rack, and a fresh wave of baked-bread aroma fills the air.

My stomach rumbles at the smell. “I didn’t know you baked.”

Specs chuckles. “I like food. I like to cook and bake and read and tinker with bikes. They’re my hobbies.”

He grins, and it lights up his entire face

“You like scrambled eggs? I’ll make us lunch.” He comes alive in his kitchen and moves with a confidence that’s magnetic, producing a bowl and taking eggs from the pantry.

“Eggs sound good.”

“Make yourself at home.” He waves a whisk in the air to indicate the rest of the cabin.

I turn around, and my breath catches in my throat.

The cabin is open plan with the kitchen joined to the living area. A wood burner sits against one wall, and on the adjacent wall is a floor-to-ceiling bookcase. Opposite the wood burner is an armchair with a knitted blanket thrown over the arm and a cushion squished into the back of it. It’s obvious this is where Specs sits. Next to the armchair is a small coffee table with a coaster and a book. There’s another armchair on the other side of the table.

I clasp my hands together. “This is perfect.”

Specs looks up from whisking the eggs. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

“Not much?” It’s a book lover’s dream. “It’s so cozy.”

He chuckles. “Cozy’s one word for it. It’s small. I don’t have a lot of company.”

I turn around, suddenly aware of taking up his space. “I’m intruding. I’m sorry. I can call Isabella…”

Specs waves a hand dismissively. “I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t want you here. Isabella’s busy with the toddler, and the pregnancy…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have to. I know how sick my friend’s been with this pregnancy. That’s why I didn’t call her. Well, it’s one of the reasons.

“You want one egg or two?” he calls from the kitchen.

“I’ll have two, please.”

“This won’t take me long. Make yourself comfortable.”

I wander over to the bookcase and let my fingers drift over the spines. He’s arranged them alphabetically by author. I arrange mine by the colors of the spine.

I pull out a copy of Emma by Jane Austen.

“You read Jane Austen?”

Specs shrugs. “I read everything. It’s a classic. I much prefer Pride and Prejudice.”

The fact that he reads Jane Austen make my chest squeeze. If I’m not careful, I could seriously fall for this man.

“Pride and Prejudice is my favorite too. I can relate to Elizabeth more than any of her other heroines. And you can’t beat Darcy,” I add. “A classic hero. The original book boyfriend.”

Specs frowns a little, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was jealous.

“If you like that kind of thing,” he mumbles. “Bit too privileged for my liking.”

I take the copy of Emma and get comfy in the spare armchair. It’s an old version with thick brown paper and a tattered dust jacket. I open it carefully and begin to read.

We sit at the kitchen counter on barstools for lunch. The homemade bread is delicious, and the scrambled eggs have a handful of herbs mixed through.

“These are fresh eggs from my chooks out back,” he says. “My girls keep me company.”

“I love that you’ve got chickens.”

“What can I tell you? I’m a simple man. I like simple things.” He frowns. “I’m sorry it’s not what you’re used to.”

I set my fork down to look at him. “Paul, this is perfect. I love it. But… have you got room for me to stay?”

He put his hand over mine. “Of course there is, Cassie. You take the bed. There’s only one bedroom, but it’s yours.”

“Where will you sleep?” I glance around at the tiny living room with the two armchairs. There’s not even a couch.

“That’s a lazy boy,” he says, indicating the armchair by the bookcase. “I’ve dozed in that more than once.”

“I can’t kick you out of your bed.”

He shakes his head. “You’re not kicking me out, Cassie. You’re my guest. You need a place to stay. You take the bed. It’s yours for as long as you need it.”

He squeezes my hand, and heat prickles up my arm.

What I want to do is invite him into the bed with me. I want to repeat what we did last night. But I’m not experienced with men.

“Do you have things to do today?” I ask. “I’m sorry I’m ruining your Saturday.”

He shakes his head. “No plans. I’m here for you today, Cassie. Whatever you want to do.”

I glance at the bookcase and the comfy armchairs. “Could we stay here and read?”

A huge grin spreads across his face. “That sounds like the perfect day.”

Paul clears up the dishes and makes us both a pot of coffee. He brings my bags in from the back of his bike, and I pull out my books and my eReader.

“It would have been easier if you’d just bought your eReader.” He indicates the stack of hardcovers I pull out of my bag.

I stare at him in disbelief. “I couldn’t leave these behind! Look how pretty they are, my special edition hardcovers.”

I hold up the three books in the series and show him the pattern they make when all the spines are lined up together.

Specs nods. “I see.” There’s not a hint of sarcasm in his voice; he really does get it. “Let me clear some space for you.”

He takes out some books from his bookshelf. “You’re not getting rid of those, are you?”

Specs looks sheepish. “I’ve got another bookcase in the bedroom. Don’t worry. We’ve got space for books.”

It’s an oddly touching gesture. I slide my hardbacks into the space on the bookshelf and wonder what it would be like to live in a place like this, without the trappings of the huge house. Just books, a fire, chickens, an herb garden—and Specs.

He brings over two mugs of steaming coffee. Then he goes into the bedroom and comes back with a blanket.

But instead of settling with a book, I pull my laptop out of my bag. Being here in this cozy cabin with Paul is inspiring.noveldrama

Paul raises an eyebrow.

“After the party last night, I was so inspired I started plotting the first book.”

He grins at me. “Cassie, that’s awesome.”

“I’ve never told anyone that’s what I want to do before. You don’t think it’s stupid, do you?”

He cups my cheek in his hand. “I think it would be stupid not to follow your dreams. Write the book, Cassie. I believe in you.”