Rebel (The Renegades)

by Rebecca Yarros

  “Yes,” I said without hesitation.

  “That doesn’t mean we have to have sex—”

  “Yes,” I repeated, pulling back with a grin on my face that was so wide it nearly hurt.

  “—or do anything. I just want to take you out on a date with no jumping off shit, or parachutes, or hands-off, eyes-off rules.”

  “I already said yes!”

  His dimples flashed before he kissed me, this kiss fast and hard.

  The door to the suite closed. “Penna?”

  I snapped back from Cruz, covering his mouth with my hand to keep him quiet. “I’m just getting in the shower. I’ll be out in a bit,” I called through the door.

  Cruz sucked my ring finger between his lips, and then rolled his tongue around it. Holy shit, I felt that between my thighs.

  He gave me a devilish grin, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me. Probably because he did.

  “Sounds good,” Rachel called. “I have to work on my thesis proposal for Dr. Delicious.”

  “Delicious?” he whispered.

  I ran my hand down the length of his torso. “Delgado…delicious,” I responded quietly.

  His dimples made an appearance, and I nearly groaned.

  “I thought you had it done,” I called to Rachel.

  “The asshole rejected my first one.”

  “It sucked,” he whispered.

  I put my hand back over his mouth and glared. This time he kissed my palm and then traced his tongue over my lifeline. The stroke sent little tendrils of electricity humming through my body, waking it with a need I knew only Cruz could sate.

  Damn it, I wanted this man—everything he had to give.

  “I’ll help you out after I shower, Rach. How does that sound?”

  Cruz stuck his ridiculously full lower lip out, and I leaned up, sucking it into my mouth. He groaned, both of his hands moving to my ass as he lifted me.

  “Sounds good,” Rachel answered, but the sound was muffled.

  Cruz had carried me to the bathroom. He deposited me on the cold granite counter, spread my thighs with one hand, and stepped between them. Then he kissed me until I couldn’t remember my name.

  My hands gripped his waist, then slid underneath his T-shirt to play with the rigid muscles beneath. Tension wound around me, through me, and there had never been anything—X Games medal or stunt—that I had ever wanted as much as I wanted this man, and not just for his body, or because he wanted me, but because he saw me. Me. Not just Rebel, or even Penna, but the me I was when no one was looking.

  I slipped my fingers across his belt until I firmly grasped his hardness through his pants. “I want to touch.”

  “Fuck me, Penelope,” he growled, his accent even more pronounced.

  “Yes,” I said, lightly nipping at his neck.

  His hips rocked into my grip, and I loosened my fingers just enough to let him slide through, my thumbnail scratching lightly over the ridge that marked the head of his erection.

  This time his kiss was openly carnal, his tongue thrusting at the same rhythm of his hips, his breaths becoming uneven. Then he jumped away from me and put his hands behind his head.

  “Nope. Not here. Not like this. I want better for you.”

  “You do realize that you are way more concerned for my virginity than I am, right?” Damn it, my body was humming, electric, and he was still in complete control. How was that even fair?

  He walked over to my shower and flipped the handle, turning on the water. “Shower. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

  “Wait, how are you going to get down? The ship is moving.”

  He grinned at me on his way out the door. “You think you’re the only one who can rappel in dangerous situations? Guarantee I can kick even your ass at that, baby.”

  He winked, and my thighs clenched in reflex.

  Then he shut the door and left me to shower away the day and imagine what our night together might be like. By the time I was clean, my Romeo had already climbed down the balcony.

  Three days.

  I could hardly freaking wait.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Penna

  IqueIque

  Chile was gorgeously warm. I’d left my hair down and put on a simple, curve-hugging dress that zipped the length of the front. The taxi left the port, only to pull over another block away, and Cruz slid in next to me.

  “Hello, gorgeous,” he said, kissing me lightly after he gave the driver an address.

  “Hello yourself,” I answered, slipping my hand into his. It was such a simple gesture, but it brought the sweetest feeling rushing through me.

  “You ready for dinner? I figured we’d get checked in and then head out.”

  “Sounds good to me. I’m sorry I was so late. It took three showers to get the sand off me, and I’m pretty sure it’s still in some pretty unmentionable places.”

  He laughed, those dimples making a much sought-after appearance. “Me, too. I can’t believe I let you talk me into strapping on one of those snowboards and sandboarding down the dunes this morning.”

  “Admit it, it was fun.”

  “Very fun,” he agreed. “Landon is a beast on a board.”

  “Yeah, he’s wicked talented with that thing.”

  The taxi pulled onto the seaside highway, and as Cruz stared out at the ocean, I studied him. His face was clean-shaven, and though I loved when he wore his close-cut beard, I loved this look, too. The angles of his face stood out without the beard, and I’d honestly never seen a more beautiful man. The sheer perfection of Cruz was overwhelming, and it wasn’t just the chiseled face or the honed body. It was his mind, his heart, the way he protected and respected me at the same time, even when it cost him his own pride to watch me do the things I did.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked as the city sped by us on the left.

  “You,” I answered honestly. There were no games between us, no need to play coy.

  “Good things, I hope.” His fingers brushed across my knuckles, the sensation heightening the giant ball of anticipation in my stomach.

  “All good things. Do you think we’ll be safe where we’re going?”

  “I picked a place just outside the city. Most of the faculty was talking about the casinos, so I’m hopeful they’ll stay away, but I have to be honest, unless we’re locked behind a bedroom door, there’s always a chance.”

  I leaned over, brushing my lips across his cheek as my hand shifted to his thigh. “I’m perfectly fine with a locked bedroom door.”

  Uncaring that the taxi driver was only a few feet away, Cruz kissed me, tilting my head for a better angle in the tight space. His hands stayed neutral and G-rated, but his tongue was clearly an R.

  My fingers bit into the fabric of his pants, and my mind screamed one word: closer. More. Okay, that was two words, but they both centered around Cruz.

  He gave me a soft, sipping kiss as he pulled away. “I told you there’s no pressure—”

  “I want you.” I enunciated every word. “And that’s not something I’ve said to any other man.”

  “How did I get so lucky?” he murmured, kissing my forehead.

  “Vegas, baby,” I teased.

  The cab pulled up in front of a modern boutique hotel, and Cruz spoke with the driver in rapid-fire Spanish, handing over money before he stepped out. Then he offered me a hand, and I took it, sliding out of the taxi with my bag in the other hand.

  My heels clicked on the marble floor as we made our way through the entrance, and my eyes caught on the fountain that decorated the chic lobby.

  “Want to wait here while I check in?” Cruz offered.

  “Sure,” I agreed. He headed toward the reception desk, and I found myself at the end of the lobby, which opened to a wide patio.

  We were right on the beach, only a thick strip of rock and gray sand between us and the Pacific Ocean. The sun made her descent in a riot of color, sinking into the water in a picture-worthy display. I di
dn’t have my camera—I couldn’t risk that someone would see a photo of Cruz and me together—so I memorized every detail. The waves crashed in a rhythm that hypnotized the beat of my heart, and a feeling of peace swept over me—of rightness.

  I wasn’t sure how long I stood out there, but the bare skin of my shoulders had a slight chill when Cruz found me.

  “There you are,” he said, his voice a low rumble in my ear as he wrapped his arms around me from behind.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “You are beautiful,” he whispered in my ear. “Do you want the good news?”

  “Of course.”

  “There are no other Americans checked in—or checking in. Just you and me.”

  I turned in his arms. “How did you figure that out?”

  “The receptionist was more than favorable to a little bribery,” he answered with a grin.

  My forehead puckered. Bribery meant he’d spent money, and by the looks of this place, our stay tonight wasn’t going to be cheap.

  “Penelope Carstairs, don’t you dare even think about asking if I can afford this place,” Cruz chastised softly, reading my mind.

  “It’s gorgeous—”

  “And I’m fine. I’ve been working since I was fourteen years old. I’m well invested, and while I definitely don’t own a cruise ship, my mortgage company thinks I’m pretty dependable.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to offer to pay. The money meant nothing to me. I made more on a single commercial for Gremlin or anything Fox promoted. But that look in his eyes told me that was never going to happen, so I smiled instead and said the only thing I could think of. “Thank you.”

  His smile was more beautiful than the sunset.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll let you sneak me away one night to make up for it when we’re back in L.A.”

  I blinked, trying to ignore the swell of my heart that threatened to swallow my throat. “Back in L.A.?”

  “Well, yeah. We do dock in seven weeks, right? I figured I’d be going home…and you’d be going there, too, right? With me?”

  “You…you still want to be with me when this is over?” I asked softly, scared of the answer, because I wasn’t sure if it would affect how badly I wanted him and subsequently what that would say about me.

  “Penelope, do you really think I’d risk everything to be with you if I didn’t see a future for us? You’re not a fling. You’re not someone to pass the time with. I’m in this way too deep and way too fast, but that doesn’t change my feelings. Unless you don’t feel the same?”

  “How could I not feel the same? I just know that when we get home, you’ll have your choice of any woman you want. I’m not stupid or blind. And that’s not some insecure cue for you to reassure me—it’s the truth. The same as I know I’ll be hounded by guys on the circuit who all want to add me to their trophy cases. But I also know that I’m complicated, and kind of a pain in the ass—”

  He stopped my word vomit with a soft kiss, gently running his tongue along the seam of my lips but not asking for entrance. “You are all that and more. You challenge every belief I’ve ever held about relationships, and I have a feeling you’ll keep that up, which I am more than fine with. I’m not an easy man, and you’re anything but an easy woman, but together we are effortless, because I can’t imagine any other possibility.”

  Swoon alert: aisle three.

  “Now, can I get us settled in our room so I can take you to dinner?”

  I nodded, my powers of speech momentarily paralyzed by the utterly perfect words he’d said. We rode the elevator, our hands linked. Could this be what my life would look like in a few months? A few years?

  Hotels in foreign countries after expos, Cruz at my side. Me cooking dinner while he graded papers, or him changing the bandages on whatever I’d managed to rip apart that week. I’d been so focused on getting him now, I’d been ignoring the possibility of what could happen in the future. And that future sounded really damn good.

  With a ding, the elevator doors opened, and we found our suite.

  “This is gorgeous,” I said, seeing the comfortable living room, spacious bathroom, and plush bedroom. Our balcony looked out over the ocean, and the breeze gently ruffled the sheers.

  “I figured if we were closed in here, it had better be someplace worth being closed in to. I don’t know if we’ll get another chance until Buenos Aires, and I wanted to make the most of it.” He set our bags on the dresser. “Do you want to head down to dinner?”

  I knew exactly what I wanted for dinner, and he was standing right in front of me. “I’d rather stay in,” I said softly.

  The air between us felt electric.

  “Penelope,” he whispered, those gorgeous brown eyes darkening as everything about his posture changed from relaxed to alert and ready.

  I crossed the small distance between us, my heart rate picking up with every step I took until I stood in front of him, my hand on his chest. “I don’t know how to seduce a man, Cruz. You’re the only experience I have in that department. So pretend I’ve tossed my hair, or done some really erotic striptease or whatever it takes, and just know that I’d like to stay in.”

  His chest expanded with a swift intake of his breath, and one of his hands wove through my hair to grip lightly. “You are a walking, talking seduction. There is nothing you have to say for me to want you, nothing you have to do. You have been a fever I can’t break since that first night in the bar, way before you ever asked me to jump with you. You want me? Good, because I’m fucking desperate to get my hands on you. Just say the words.”

  My tongue swept out to wet my lips, and I looked him straight in the eyes. “I want you to make love to me. Those words good enough for you?”

  “Yeah, those will do,” he said a millisecond before his mouth met mine.

  His kiss felt different from every other time—a little more wild, unrestrained, but still deliciously thorough. He kissed like a man who knew where this was going but wasn’t in a rush to get there.

  My fingers undid the buttons on his shirt. This time I’d explore him, touch and taste as much as I wanted. We weren’t due back until the class excursion at noon tomorrow, and I planned to use every minute to my advantage.

  By the time we left this room I would know every inch of Cruz.

  He shrugged out of the shirt without breaking our kiss, his skin exposed and warm beneath my fingers. I’d always loved tattoos, and the one on his arm was a powerful reminder of his past—and a huge turn-on—but there was something to be said for yards of firm, untouched caramel skin draped over cords of strong muscle.

  I broke our kiss to place one on his chest, running my mouth down the line of his pecs and flicking my tongue over one of his nipples.

  He sucked in his breath, and I smiled. God, it was going to be so much fun to control him for once.

  I pushed him backward, and he fell to the bed laughing, his feet hanging off the end. “This time you’re naked first,” I ordered as he grinned up at me, his weight braced on his elbows.

  “Think you can break my control?”

  I quirked an eyebrow at him as I slid the strap of his belt free from its buckle. “Think I can’t?” God, his abs were perfection, flexed in a perfect curve as he sat there. That line that drove me nuts ran in perfect symmetry down his sides, disappearing inside his boxers.

  I followed them with my finger, savoring the way the muscles tensed under my touch.

  “Oh, I’m well aware that you can, and if you had any idea of the fantasies that had played out in my head the last seven weeks, you wouldn’t doubt it for a second.”

  My knees hit the floor after I slid off the bed, and I made quick work of his dress shoes and socks, listening to them fall to the floor with a satisfying thud. “Fantasies, huh?” I asked, hooking my fingers into the waist of his now-undone pants and taking his boxers for good measure.

  Trying to steady my already-quick breaths, I tugged, keeping my eyes on his as I removed the last of his clot
hing, careful not to catch his erection.

  “This would definitely be one of them.” Our eyes locked as I stood at the foot of the bed. “You can look. God knows I’m going to do the same to you in a moment.”

  Biting my lower lip, I let my eyes drop over the smooth expanse of chest, to his washboard stomach, to—holy shit he was impressive. I tore my eyes away from his length and finished my open perusal of his strong thighs. The man definitely didn’t skip leg day—I stared at his ass often enough to know.

  “God, you’re…you’re…” I couldn’t think of words that would do his body justice, and that didn’t even include the perfection of his face.

  “Yours. I’m yours.”

  He lay there so calmly that if I didn’t see his fists in the covers, tightening over the fabric, I might have thought he was relaxed, almost unaffected.

  Well, that and his giant, gorgeous erection. Could erections be gorgeous? His was all smooth and strong, and… My fingers found him, closing around the silken skin and squeezing lightly. Oh yeah, so freaking hard.

  “Penelope,” he moaned my name, his head rolling back.

  My hand ran up and down, watching his every reaction. His hips rolled once, then stayed still, the look on his face nearly painful. His eyes were closed, as if watching me would be too much.

  I let go, running my hands up the sides of his abs and crawling onto the bed until my knees were between his outstretched thighs. I kissed a path up his stomach, and as if it was my own being caressed, my body temp rose, and a steady, sweet ache grew between my thighs.

  One of his hands massaged the back of my head as I reached the strong cords of his neck.

  “You about done playing?” he asked, his voice scratchy and deep.

  I pulled back enough to look into his eyes, which were anything but playful. They were intense under the dark black brows, as if I’d woken a beast who was trying his best to stay caged.

  “If I say no?” My leg ran up the inside of his thigh and over until I straddled it.

  “I’m trying, Penelope,” he warned.

  I kissed the smooth line of his jaw until his earlobe was between my lips, and I ran my teeth along the flesh gently. “Quit trying.”