Untamed (Untamed #1) by Victoria Green, Jinsey Reese Page A

commando.
    Again.
    It took every ounce of self-control to keep from licking my lips.
    “You’re early,” he said, sounding pleased.
    “I’m sorry. I know it’s only seven, but I…” I wanted to see you.
    “You were hungry?” His voice dropped to a teasing low.
    “For the mac and cheese? Totally .”
    His chest vibrated with a deep, husky laugh. “Of course. Come on in.” He turned to the side so I could slide past him.
    “Thanks.” I crossed my hands over my chest to keep myself from doing something stupid like reaching out and running my fingers across that sexy grin, then sliding them down his chest and stomach into—no. I stopped myself because if I thought about it much longer, I would lose all control.
    Dare did up his jeans and pulled out a stool from the breakfast bar. “Have a seat. I’m just going to finish toweling off, then get started on dinner.”
    “Can I help?” I said.
    His mouth quirked. “With the toweling off or the dinner?”
    And I actually thought about it because now that I was here all I wanted to do was get my hands on him again. And my lips.
    God. I was so fucked.
    “Sit tight, Princess,” he ordered. “I’ll be right back.”
    The moment he disappeared into the bathroom, I walked over to Wilde’s paintings to look through them again, and confirmed what I’d known right away—the artist would be a perfect fit at La Période Bleue.
    “So you really like them?” I hadn’t heard him come back and startled at his voice. He stood leaning against the wall, a black t-shirt stretched across his chest.
    “Is the painter still coming? I’m dying to meet—” Something in his eyes stopped me. I looked down at the canvas. Up at Dare. Down to his long fingers and paint-speckled jeans. Back up to the spark in his eyes. “YOU? You told me you were a house painter.”
    He shrugged. Just freaking shrugged like it was no big deal.
    “You’re Wilde?!” I was in serious peril of fangirling.
    “Dare Wilde,” he said, extending his hand. “Nice to officially meet you.”
    “Dare, and never Daren, right?”
    The light in his eyes dimmed as his jaw tightened. “My mom is the only person in the world who can get away with Daren. It’s my father’s name. And she still clings to it because she can’t fully kick the habit.”
    “Well, Dare Wilde,” I said, placing my hand in his, “nice to officially meet you, too. Reagan McKinley.”
    “You look so uncomfortable saying that.”
    I looked down at the painting next to my legs so he wouldn’t see the blush on my face. “I don’t know what makes me more uncomfortable…my first name or my last.”
    His fingers nudged mine. “Then how about I stick to Ree?”
    “I’d like that.” I waved my hand at the paintings. “You’re really good. Why are you painting houses when you can do THIS? Why aren’t you screaming it from the rooftops? If I was this talented, I’d want the entire world to know.”
    “Nobody cares,” he said, shrugging. “Being an artist in this city doesn’t put food on the table. Especially not when you have three other people relying on you.”
    “So what does?” I asked.
    “Very little. Right now, making sure I put the right shade of rich on my clients’ walls gets us by. No one gives a shit about art.”
    “I do.” I turned to face him. “I care.”

    “Do you want to stir the cheese sauce while I do the pasta?” Dare asked.
    I was watching him work from across the counter—a safe distance from the food, but close enough I could enjoy the view. Him cooking for me was so freaking sexy.
    “I don’t know how to cook,” I said. “I don’t want to mess it up.”
    He laughed. “There’s very little you can do to mess this up, Ree.”
    I shook my head and raised my arms in protest. “I really can’t.”
    Turning from the stove, he grabbed my hands and pulled me from the stool. He brought me around to stand in front of him, my back to his chest.
    “It’s easy.” He placed his hands over