[Rebel Wheels 01.0] Rebel

by Elle Casey

  The next thing I know, I’ve lost my balance. I was expecting him to let me go, but instead he pulls me back firmly. The floor and ceiling trade places as I fall onto him and the couch.

  “What are you doing?” I squeak out as I land sprawled out over his lap, my legs flying up into the air.

  He shifts my weight so that I’m sitting fully on his lap.

  “Don’t go,” he says.

  I struggle to remain cool and unaffected. “What are you, Santa Claus? Let me go.”

  “No. I can’t let you go.”

  A lump gets stuck in my throat. I know he doesn’t mean the words like I want him to and it makes me desperately sad. I should be happy about his efforts, but all they do is make me feel worse. Today is opposite day, I guess.

  “Don’t cry,” he says. His finger comes up and wipes a tear off my cheek.

  I slap his hand away. “Stop being so nice to me.” I struggle to get up.

  He wraps his arms around me, trapping my arms at my sides.

  “What are you doing? Let go!” I yank my body left and then right, trying to get free. I’m not trying as hard as I could, though. I know it and so does he. I want someone to fight for me other than me, and I want that someone to be him.

  “You really want me to do that?”

  “Yes.” I say, my voice revealing my pout.

  He leans in closer to my neck as he adjusts his position. “You sure about that?” His whisper slides across my neck like a warm, silk ribbon. It makes me shiver from head to toe.

  I can’t answer. My mouth opens, but no sound will come out. There’s a lie on the tip of my tongue, ready to tell him that I don’t want him to ever touch me or ever care about me or ever give me a place to stay again. But rather than lie, I choose to say nothing instead. I feel almost brave over that silence. I can almost appreciate Rebel’s style of saying as little as necessary.

  He takes my non-answer as the answer it really is. Lifting one hand from the cage he’s put me in, he places it against the side of my face, pushing me into his body. “Put your head on my shoulder. Just let me hold you for a little while.”

  This surprises me. The last thing I expected him to do is comfort me, but that’s exactly what happens. I lay my head down on his shoulder, my face turned into his neck. I’m sideways on his lap, my feet hanging off his legs and down near the floor.

  I keep my hands in my lap as he adjusts us both until I’m snuggled up against him and feeling every inch of his lap, abs, and chest with one side of my body. I can’t help but breathe out a long sigh. This is the safest I’ve felt in a very long time, and the very first time I’ve felt that way with a guy who has his arms wrapped around me.

  He’s rubbing my arm. “I’m sorry you’re sad.”

  “Me too,” I whisper in a trembling voice. I’m on a cry-baby hair trigger right now.

  “Do you miss him? Your dad?”

  “Yes and no.” I don’t really want to talk about it.

  “You’re not alone, Tea. You’re not alone anymore, okay?”

  My chest tightens all over again and silent tears come rushing out. How could they not with a declaration like that?

  When one tear drops onto his chest through his open jumpsuit, he moves his hand to the side of my head, using his thumb to wipe off my cheek. “Don’t cry. I’m here.”

  It’s overwhelming. Too much. He’s amazing. Gorgeous. Smart. Full of secrets and things I wish I knew. And he’s here in his apartment with me, taking care of me, caring about how I feel.

  My arms have a mind of their own. My right one goes behind his back and the left one clings to his chest and ribs. I want to hold onto him until all of this goes away. He’s like a giant anchor, and for the first time in a long time I feel like I’m not going to just fly away in a gust of wind. My father’s only been dead for a week, but I’ve been alone for a lot longer than that. I cling to him as we weather the storm together.

  His hand moves to rub my back.

  I snuggle in closer as it goes lower. I cannot get enough of his body on mine, and I know he’s feeling the same way.

  His breath is heavier and coming just a little bit faster.

  I move my head until my face is touching his warm neck. I can feel his pulse there. Comfort gives way easily to the heat that’s building between us. Maybe he only means to be my savior, but I’m definitely thinking of him as more than that. Or maybe I have a different kind of saving in mind.

  He turns his head just the slightest bit. I’m almost positive it’s an invitation.

  My pulse is going like crazy and certain parts of my body start to tingle. Before reacting, I consider my choices. I could get up and go into the bathroom and wait for him to get the hint and leave. But I immediately recognize that idea as one that sucks eighteen thousand donkey dongs, so I abandon it faster than it came to mind.

  My other choice is to feign ignorance and just keep it at the friendly cuddle level. It’s not a totally horrible idea, but it’s also not going to ease the ache I’ve got for him.

  The question is, do I want to risk what I have with him now, knowing that I could lose it altogether? Should I be a grown-up and think of all the ramifications of the act before jumping right in? Or should I say fuck it and totally go for it, worrying about the consequences later?

  He puts his finger on my chin and puts just the tiniest bit of pressure there. The invitation could not be more clear: Lift my head and we will kiss, dip my head and we will never speak of kissing again.

  “Is it better to have a bird in the hand or two in the bush?” I whisper, pulling an age-old memory of my father lecturing me as a small child out of the recesses of my brain. He was always telling me to make sure I included all the facts in my decision-making process. Taking risks was important to him, but always, always they had to be measured risks.

  Rebel kisses my forehead. His lips linger way longer than those giving a friendly kiss should.

  He doesn’t answer my question with words, but it doesn’t matter because his kiss and my body’s reaction give me the response I need.

  I’m on fire, and the yearning for his touch has built to the point that to deny it would be complete insanity. Why am I trying to act like a perfect adult when I’m only twenty-two? I can make mistakes and survive them, right? Screw the bird in the hand. Birds are stupid, anyway.

  “Fuck it,” I whisper and lift my face to his. I may lose everything by feeding the flame that’s been licking at me since the day I laid eyes on him, but I realize now that it doesn’t matter; being jobless and homeless will be worth getting a taste of the only guy who’s ever made me feel like a girl on fire. Not kissing him would be like having a life but not living it. For just one night, I’m going to do what feels good, regardless of the consequences.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  AS SOON AS I LIFT my head and feel the rough scratch of his beard shadow on my lips, I know I’m in deep doo. He’s hot and his body is huge and powerful. He’s way more man than I’ve ever been with or probably ever will be with again.

  He shifts so both his arms are around me again, but now the one that was gently rubbing my back is on my ass, and he’s moving me into him by pressing his fingers against me.

  Our lips meet. This strong, silent man who barely lets any words go is putting his mouth on mine and his tongue is demanding that I let him in. I’m already trembling with need and trepidation. This is no fumbling college boy. Rebel is a real man, and I know I’m in over my head. But I don’t care. I’m going to follow his lead and go wherever he takes me tonight.

  The room is silent except for the sound of our clothes rustling, the couch creaking, and our breath mingling together. I’m used to music drowning out the sounds of two people being intimate. I don’t know why I ever did that before.

  Hearing him breathe heavier as my hand slides across his chest is beyond thrilling. When my fingers roam down below his waist and he groans, I feel like some kind of superhero sex goddess. Me. Teagan Cross. I’m making
Rebel moan at the slightest touch. Right now I could fly if I wanted to. I could jump off the top of this building and glide to the ground ten blocks away.

  Holy shit, his dick is huge.

  His hand is kneading my ass and it’s making crazy shivers move up through the center of me. My sweatshirt and flannel are suffocating.

  We both stop for a moment as he reads my mind, and removes my sweatshirt and top. I meant to only take off the outer layer, but here I am bare-chested. The cool air of the apartment washes over my heated body and makes my nipples go hard. I’m not embarrassed; it’s too warm in here and I’m too ready for us to be naked to care that he’s fully dressed and I’m only halfway so.

  He slides his fingers up from my waist to my chest. His hand is huge, covering my entire breast and then some. I rush to kiss him again, afraid I’m going to moan over the simplest touch. It’s crazy how he’s making me feel. No guy has ever made this happen for me, ever. Is it him or my grief that’s so quickly sending me over the edge? I don’t care; I just want more of it.

  I twist around and straddle him so we’re face to face. He slides down a little on the couch so the hot center of me can rest on his hardness. When he takes each of my hips in his two hands and pushes up into me while moving in a slow circle, I can’t help but grip his forearms and drop my head back a little.

  A small moan of happiness escapes my lips before I can trap the rest of it inside my mouth. My face goes red with the embarrassment of getting so worked up over such a little thing.

  “Just let it go,” he says in a low voice. “Feel us together.”

  I know exactly what he means. Maybe I shouldn’t because it’s so vague, but I do. We’re in perfect rhythm, perfect synch. There are no fumbling moments, no seconds of bumping heads or tangled limbs. I think it’s because we both know exactly what we want him to do and we both know exactly how I’m going to react.

  His hands slide up towards my waist as he continues to move his hips. His fingers keep moving up until he takes one breast in each hand. He kneads and squeezes them as he pulses his hips upwards, building my need with every movement. Moving one hand down again to press into my ass, he guides me against him as he raises his hips up once more, putting more pressure against my most sensitive spot.

  My panties are getting soaked and flashes of heat are making me feel all fluttery inside. I moan again as I sweat and ache for something I don’t quite understand.

  He surprises me by putting both hands on the sides of my face and pulling me down towards him. I’m anxious to kiss him again, so while I miss the feelings he was creating by touching my breasts, I desperately need to feel his lips on mine, his tongue sliding across mine, the feel of his hot breath on my face.

  I gasp in surprise when he pinches my nipple firmly between his fingers. It should hurt, maybe, but it doesn’t; I want him to do it again. He pulls away from my mouth and puts his lips where his fingers just were and sucks hard.

  “Oh, God!” I gasp, grinding down into him while arching my back and pressing my chest into his mouth. The sensations are blowing me away. Something’s happening that I don’t recognize from my previous sexual encounters, but I don’t want it to stop. I feel like I’m at the amusement park on the roller coaster and it’s clicking up the hill. The anticipation is building. Something big is going to happen to me, I just know it.

  He moves to my other breast and repeats the sensations there. One hand roams my body, squeezes my opposite breast, moves under the edge of my waistband, and drags fingers across my back, while his tongue flicks my nipple, his lips and mouth suck, and his teeth scrape ever so gently. It’s not enough to sit on his lap now. I want more.

  Once again, he reads my mind or my body language, I don’t know which. We go from sitting to lying down on the couch, and he’s hovering over me, settling himself between my legs.

  “You’re so big,” I say, as his weight bears down on me. “Heavy, I mean.” And then I feel how big he is, as his hardness presses into me from above.

  Holy shit, I’m in so much trouble right now.

  Rebel lifts his upper body a little, removing some of its weight. “Better?” he whispers against my mouth before his tongue snakes out to lick my lips.

  We play a battle of the tongues for a little while that only serves to ramp up my sexual frustration. “No,” I say, pulling him back down so I can feel all of him on me. “Now it’s better.”

  I like the feeling of sinking into the couch with the weight of this huge man above me. He might tell me to get lost tomorrow, but for right now, he’s mine and only mine.

  He growls and pushes into me, his face falling to my neck. He kisses and sucks the tender skin beneath my jawline.

  My legs go up around his waist without my conscious thought. I angle myself to better feel his hard length. I’m deathly afraid that it’s not the material of his jumpsuit making it seem so huge. I don’t know what he’s going to do to me, if I’ll be able to handle him. I’m playing in the big leagues now and it would be terrifying if I weren’t so turned on.

  Rebel reaches between us and pulls the zipper down on his mechanic’s suit. He sheds the top half and pauses for a minute as my hands and eyes roam all over his muscles.

  “You have the most incredible body I’ve ever seen,” I whisper, lost in admiration.

  He smiles. “You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  He leans down and kisses me roughly.

  I push my hips up into him and grab him around the neck, taking his kiss deeper. His rough face burns the skin of my lips and chin, but I don’t care. The sting is worth the shivers his mouth gives me.

  We keep kissing as he struggles to remove the rest of his clothes. He has to stop to reach down and remove his boots. Two heavy thumps on the floor later as they fall, and he’s soon naked above me. I’m breathing heavily as my fingers trail down the hot skin of his arm.

  All of a sudden he stops moving and kissing me. He lifts his upper body a little so he’s no longer pressing into my chest. His eyes close and he takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly.

  “Is something wrong?” I ask, not sure what’s going on.

  He opens his eyes again and stares down at me.

  I expect him to say something, but he doesn’t.

  “Rebel, I can’t read your mind.” I reach up and run my fingertip down his cheek. His muscles are so tense. My finger goes to his lips and strokes the bottom one. It’s silky smooth, so different than the rest of him. His tongue comes out and flicks at my finger, and then without warning he opens his mouth and grabs my finger with his teeth.

  “Ow,” I say, even though it doesn’t hurt.

  He lets me go after closing his mouth over my finger, letting it slide out from between his lips. And then while staring into my eyes, he pushes his hips forward, halfway burying his hard dick into my soft, sensitive center. Only my flannel pants are keeping him from penetrating me completely.

  “You make me lose control,” he says in a low growl.

  “Do you hate it?” I ask, wishing desperately that he doesn’t.

  “No, I don’t hate it.” He pushes into me again.

  I feel his arm muscles flex under my hands and it makes me even hotter. The knowledge that touching and kissing me has made him rock-hard and out of control causes me to be bold. “You like it. Don’t lie.” I move my hips around in a slow circle while pressing up into him.

  His nostrils flare and his jaw twitches but he says nothing. He pushes into me again.

  I raise myself up to meet him.

  His eyes close slowly and then open again. “You’re too much.”

  I frown. That’s a new one on me and I can’t believe it actually applies. “Too much what?”

  He breathes out a long sigh and falls down into me, his face stopped at my ear. He lies there breathing and crushing me.

  “Uhhh … Rebel?”

  “Hmmm…”

  “What are you doing?” I grunt out. This doesn’t feel nearly
as sexy as all the other stuff he was doing.

  He does a quick push-up and gets off me, leaving me instantly cold and alone as he gets on his feet.

  I quickly cross my arms over my chest and try not to stare at the giant hard-on leveling off above me.

  He’s completely unconcerned about being buck naked in front of me, but who could blame him? He’s perfection. Broad, rounded shoulders taper down to a narrow waist. Thighs flare out with muscle that I cannot believe fits in his jeans.

  He stares down at me for a few seconds, and then runs his hands through his short hair and shifts his gaze to the ceiling.

  “Ahhhh … shit,” he finally says.

  I sit up, suddenly going cold. Nothing like an ahhh shit to douse the flames of desire.

  He walks away and goes into the kitchen.

  When I realize that he probably doesn’t keep condoms in the freezer and that this whatever-it-was is really over, I quickly grab my sweatshirt off the floor and get into it, leaving my shirt on the ground.

  Talk about embarrassed and confused. I have no idea what just happened, but I’m pretty sure it was my fault. Something I did screwed things up, or me being too much did it, whatever the hell that means.

  A giant lump gets stuck into my throat. I can’t concentrate or make any sense at all over the sudden hot to cold act he’s pulling. I must have been wrong about how well we fit together because there’s no way I had the control to just get up and walk away like he did. I was all-in, damn the consequences and anything else that would come after. But he apparently wasn’t.

  All I want to do now is run, but I have nowhere to go. I lie down and face the back of the couch, curling into a ball, wishing I had somewhere, anywhere to go but here.

  Just go to sleep. Pretend nothing happened. You can cry like a baby in Quin’s ear tomorrow. Don’t let him know how much it matters to you. You still need this job. What were you thinking? He’s your boss! And bullshit, that girl isn’t his girlfriend. Maybe that’s what this is all about. Great. Now you’re a cheater too!