Wilder (The Renegades)

by Rebecca Yarros

  “Crane? Foam?” I asked. “Do I even want to know?”

  Paxton wrapped his arms around me despite the fact that John was there. Guess we’re public. “You’ll want to watch.”

  “Oh really?” I looped my arms around his neck, energy humming through me from the simple contact of his body against mine. Last night I’d only gotten a chaste good-night kiss, which had played in my head all day.

  He nodded. “Oh yeah. And you know if you get—”

  I pushed him back with a laugh. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Red flag.”

  He gave me a panty-dropping smile. “Exactly.” Then he moved in close enough to whisper in my ear, “And your ass is incredible in those shorts. See you down there, Firecracker.”

  I watched them walk toward the track, grateful that it was only Little John here. At least I didn’t have to worry about someone trying to sabotage or hurt Paxton. I tied back my hair with a bandana before I followed. One thing I’d learned about Paxton? If he said I’d want to watch…

  Then he was about to do something worth watching.

  …

  I wasn’t sure I could watch it again. Yet I still sat there, my ass growing more numb by the second. But how the hell was I going to walk away?

  Paxton repeatedly drove his freestyle bike at dizzying speeds from the back of the track until he hit the tallest ramp I’d ever seen, flying off it and flipping.

  Every time he jumped the ramp. Every time the metal thing at the end of the ramp allowed him to fling himself into the air so he could flip forward. Every time my world slowed as he rotated, bringing the bike around with him until he came crashing back to earth, landing in the giant foam pit. Sometimes he landed vertically, almost nailing the rotation. Other times the bike came down on top of him.

  My breath held. Every. Single. Time.

  I only started breathing again when he gave me the thumbs-up from the pit. Then he latched the bike onto the hook of the crane and Little John lifted it out.

  They talked about what went right or wrong. Then it started all over again.

  They paused for lunch, then dinner, then kept at it until the sun went down. If I was this sore from watching him, I couldn’t imagine how his body felt.

  He swore, punched at the foam, yelled out his frustration, but he never quit, never gave up. He was incredible. I’d known it all along, but that had been watching him twist and turn, completing impossible tricks. But now that I watched what it took for him to be the best, I was awestruck.

  All through the day he’d told me to head down to the beach, that he didn’t want me wasting my entire day watching him work. But I was glued in place, unable to move for the fear that I’d miss the first time he did it, or the inevitable hospital trip if things went wrong.

  I was paralyzed by the growing understanding of what it meant to love someone as extraordinary as Paxton, knowing that the risks he took were something he’d never change because they were an integral part of him. And like his tattoos, I might occasionally forget they were there, but it was only because I already saw them as part of his skin.

  He would always be a daredevil.

  That realization was as terrifying as it was sexy, watching this man I loved pushing his body to the limit of what it could endure.

  This was the reason every muscle of his body was defined with purpose, why he looked like the Greek god he was when he took off his shirt.

  Speaking of which.

  He unclipped his chest protector, leaving him in a tight black Under Armour shirt. “I’m calling it. I can’t see far enough ahead of me to make this safe,” he said, motioning to the darkening sky. “If we were home I’d turn on the stadium lights, but we don’t have them here.”

  I stumbled to my feet, feeling rushing to the parts of my body that had fallen asleep. “Good. It forces you to break for the night.”

  “I can’t believe you sat here all day and watched.” He brushed his hand over my cheek. The look on his face wasn’t quite defeat, but it wasn’t victory, either. It was a weary, bone-deep exhaustion.

  “I heard it was the best show on the island,” I said, leaning up on my tiptoes to brush my lips against his. “Paxton?” I looked up at him under my lashes and ran my hands along the waistline of his pants dampened with sweat.

  “Leah?” His lids lowered, taking on that look that sent heat spiraling through me, electrifying my nerves.

  “You smell.”

  He laughed, and my world righted, bringing back my Paxton from the world of Wilder. “Yeah, I think I should do something about that.”

  “I agree, especially since it’s just the two of us in that small house.”

  “With one big bed,” he added, running his tongue over his lower lip.

  One line and my body was practically singing with anticipation.

  “Hey, Pax, your gear is stowed. I’m thinking about watching a movie. Anything you’re in the mood for?” Little John said as he walked over.

  “Nah. Leah, you choose. I’ll be up after I shower.”

  But ten minutes later, as I thumbed through Mrs. Wilder’s DVDs, all I could think about was Paxton’s naked body in the shower. Wet. Warm. I bet the water even traveled down those carved fuck-me lines.

  I reached the end of the row and nearly fell over, distracted.

  “I got my hands on the new Warren Miller. I bet he’d love that,” Little John said, coming from the hallway with a DVD case in hand.

  “Yeah, I’ll go ask him,” I offered, and then nearly ran out the back door before he could say anything.

  What the hell was wrong with me? I’d never been this distracted over a guy before. Sure, I liked sex…or what I remembered of it, but I’d never been the girl to jump a guy. You’ve never had orgasms like the one he gave you in Istanbul, either.

  Well, there was that.

  The shower was still running as I opened the door to the guesthouse. Paxton had lowered all the shades but the ones that looked out over the water, making the house feel like a warm, steamy cocoon.

  I walked over to the bed and kicked off my sandals, then took the bandana from my hair, twisting the fabric in my hands. What was I going to do? Say, “Hey, maybe you could…I don’t know…do me?”

  You even sound awkward to yourself.

  Was this what I wanted? Yes. I wanted to feel him on top of me, to see the blue in his eyes darken with want, with need…for me. I wanted to be the sole focus of all that intense energy, to be the one who brought him to his knees.

  I wanted Paxton because he was mine and I loved him.

  That love didn’t scare me like I thought it would. No, it gave me wings, made me bold, ready to grasp every sensation I could, because I never imagined I’d be able to feel it again.

  Yet here it was, and so much stronger than the first time.

  Forgive me, Brian, but I know you would have wanted me to be happy.

  The water stopped, but my pulse sped up. The shower door opened and closed, and my chest tightened. This would be easy. I could tell him that I was ready, and then we’d go watch the movie, and our good-night kiss wouldn’t end with a kiss.

  It sounded so simple, so why was I such a bundle of oversensitive nerves? Even my soft V-neck tee felt scratchy against my skin.

  Oh God, he didn’t know I was here. What if he came out naked?

  I spun, turning my back to him when I saw movement in the doorway. “Hey, I’m in here,” I called out. So not sexy. Why couldn’t I have an ounce of Rachel’s sex appeal, her complete ease around guys? Or just her advice?

  Because you’re here…on Mykonos, with the most insanely hot guy you’ve ever laid eyes on.

  “Hey,” Paxton called out behind me.

  “Are…” I took a deep breath and tried again. “Are you naked?”

  “No, but I can be,” he answered.

  I pivoted, turning slowly to face him.

  Oh fuck me, he may as well have been. A single white towel hung off his lean hips, held in place by a pesky little knot. His
hair was damp, and tiny droplets of water clung to his tattooed skin, traveling the lines of his muscles as gravity commanded.

  Every single cell in my body screamed with wanting him.

  He was every fantasy. Every bad boy I’d been warned against. Every athlete I’d ever admired. Every prom king and every outlaw at the same time. He was the untouchable, the answer to every love letter I’d never gotten, and the only cure for the ache that was steadily growing, unfurling in my stomach. And for some reason I’d never understand, Paxton Wilder was looking at me like I was dessert.

  “Leah?” He lifted his hands above his head, grasping the doorframe.

  Every single muscle in his abs flexed. Every. One.

  Was he even human?

  “Firecracker, is everything okay?”

  I nodded, trying to find my voice. “I wanted to see you.”

  “Okay.” His voice dropped, but his hands stayed where they were.

  “I just… I wanted to…” I shook my head. “Last night you kissed me.”

  A smirk danced across his face. “Yeah, and this morning. I plan on doing that a lot.”

  I twisted the bandana in my hands. “Right. But is that all?”

  “Is that bothering you? I didn’t move in here with you expecting sex, Leah. I didn’t ask you to be with me so I could screw you.” His face tightened.

  “No, no. That’s not what I’m thinking.” Why was this so hard? “I’m asking if you want to do more than kiss me.”

  Now every muscle in his torso strained. “Is that what you want?”

  He sounded so damn calm, and I was a huge wreck. How fair was that? And he hadn’t even moved from the doorframe. A shred of self-doubt crept in. “Only if you do.”

  His eyes went almost comically big. “Only if I do? Are you kidding me? The memory of how you feel under my hands goes through my head about every fifteen seconds. There’s no question there.”

  “But you’re not moving.” I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat, but it wouldn’t budge.

  Again, his upper body tensed, the muscles in his forearms rippling where he held on to the doorframe. “I’m over here because I don’t trust myself to get any closer to you without stripping those clothes off your tight, perfect body.”

  “Oh.”

  “So if you’re telling me that you’re ready, I need you to be damn sure, Leah. Because I have wanted you since the first time I saw you, and I have been so fucking good about keeping my hands to myself. You have no clue what you do to me, how much self-control I have to use to keep from pressuring you.”

  “Oh.” That giant knot in my throat drifted lower, lodging in my stomach as my core started to simmer.

  “So now all I get is one word?” he asked.

  I wasn’t sure I was capable of more. All my brain cells were currently scrambling to form a coherent thought that wasn’t now.

  His eyes dropped to where my hands wrung my bandana.

  My red bandana.

  It wasn’t a flag, but it would do. I lifted it with one hand and waved it twice before letting it flutter to the floor. His eyes darkened, and I was surprised he hadn’t broken through the doorframe from how hard he pushed against it.

  “Say the words. I need to hear them. No misunderstandings between us, ever.”

  My entire body was damn near humming, and he hadn’t even touched me yet. “I want you, Paxton.”

  He lowered his arms slowly and, keeping my eyes locked with his, stalked me with lethal grace. I held my ground, my heart pounding harder with each step he took, like my body had Paxton radar, and it was blaring the sweetest alarm.

  He didn’t stop until his mouth was on mine, kissing me breathless, turning my mind—and my knees—to mush. My hands tunneled through his hair, and he grabbed my ass, lifting me against his chest. His grip shifted to my thighs as he ran his lips down my neck, and I locked my ankles around his waist.

  And shit…there went his towel.

  Paxton was naked, gloriously, fully naked, and I wasn’t even in a position to appreciate it. I settled for second best, running my hands down his sculpted back—until I found myself on mine, sinking into the soft bed with his delicious weight on top of me.

  “You lost your towel,” I told him as he nibbled at my collarbone.

  “I did,” he answered, his hands squeezing my thighs with just the right amount of pressure. His thumbs snuck under my shorts, so high on my upper thigh that he brushed my panties.

  “We… We have to…” There was something, I knew it, but I just didn’t care. Not when he ran his hands to my waist and then under my shirt, dragging the fabric up.

  “We have to what?” he asked, his mouth at my ear. His tongue traced the shell, and I groaned. He had a way of finding spots I never even realized were so sensitive.

  “Movie. We’re supposed to watch a movie,” I managed to get out.

  He slid down my body, trailing kisses up my bare stomach, leaving chills in his wake as he reached where my shirt pooled at my bra line. “I’d rather watch you come a few times.”

  A few? “Feeling ambitious tonight, are we?” I asked, my hips moving of their own accord. I nearly groaned when they brushed his erection.

  He hissed at the contact. “Just stating the truth.”

  “Should we do this later?” My body nearly cried at the thought of not finishing what we’d started. “I don’t want Little John to come looking.”

  He kissed the underside of my jaw. “He’s not going to come looking, I promise. And if you think I honestly give a fuck that we’re missing the movie, you’re sorely mistaken. I’d miss every movie for the rest of my life if it meant I got to touch you. Unless you’ve changed your mind?” He tensed above me.

  “No,” I reassured him. “Never.”

  Without looking away, he raised my shirt over my head, and I eagerly lifted my arms to help. “Thank God,” he whispered, and then kissed me.

  He consumed me, taking over every thought with each stroke of his tongue, each angle he used to deepen the caress. He kissed me like I was the answer to every question he’d ever had, and in turn, I held nothing back.

  He unhooked my bra with a snap of his fingers, and then he slipped it down my arms so it could join my shirt on the floor. When he lowered himself to kiss me again, we were skin-to-skin, and the contact was enough to send flames licking down my body, pooling the heat between my thighs.

  He groaned. “You feel incredible,” he said with one last pull at my lower lip. Then his lips trailed a path to my breasts, where he took one hardened nipple into his warm mouth.

  I sucked in a breath and arched against his mouth, craving more and knowing he could deliver it.

  My hands found his hair, his shoulders, anything that could anchor me as pure sensation took over. There was nothing but Paxton, and that was perfection in itself. He moved to the other breast, his hands never ceasing their movement between my waistline and neck, bringing every nerve ending to life with his touch.

  He made me feel worshipped, adored, and I loved him all the more for it.

  I pulled gently on his hair, and he looked into my eyes, dragging his tongue over my nipple. Pleasure rushed through me. He made it so easy to want him.

  I twisted my legs, and he gave in to my silent demand, rolling over so I knelt on top of him, his hips between my knees. His hands flexed on my thighs, subtly digging in to the muscle as I traced the line of his dragon tattoo, looking up to watch his eyes darken as I reached the tip of its tail.

  Then I used both hands to explore the lines of his chest, his abs, leaving no inch of skin untouched. He had various tattoos running the length of his arm, some down his abdomen, and tiny scars peppered his otherwise perfect skin.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice low.

  “That you are pretty much every fantasy come to life,” I answered. “I can’t believe I get to touch you.”

  He ran his hands up my rib cage until he cupped my breasts. “I was thinking pretty much
the same thing. Except dirtier. You’re way too good for me.”

  “Good?” I asked, raising my hips and sliding down to his thighs so his erection sprung between us. Then I took hold of it at the base with one hand and caressed the length with the other.

  “Fuck,” he moaned, arching his hips into my hands. He grasped my hips, his fingers tightening on me. “Leah,” he warned.

  I ran my thumb over the head of his dick, and he groaned, his stomach muscles tensing. Having him under me, losing his control because of me, was intoxicating. I moved him again through my grip, reveling in the juxtaposition of soft skin and the steel underneath. That thought sent another ache shooting straight through me. He was beautiful, his throat working, neck arching, face tight with restraint…and he was mine.

  As if he sensed me watching him, his eyes snapped open. “Enough,” he growled, and flipped me to my back, rising above me before kissing every rational thought from my head. “You push me closer to the edge than anyone I’ve ever met,” he said against my mouth.

  “Good,” I fired back. I didn’t want to think about every other girl he’d taken to bed, every woman who’d put her hands on him, felt the power flexing beneath his surface, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t well aware of how many there had been.

  I closed my eyes against the unwelcome thoughts, wanting this minute to be special, to be different. You’re the only one he’s claimed as his, I reminded myself, but that sliver was under my skin, stealing some of my joy.

  “You enjoy testing me?” he asked between kisses, one of his hands weaving through my hair while the other caressed my side, stoking the fire that was already burning within me.

  “Yes,” I admitted. His fingers flirted with the waist of my shorts. And I was almost ready to tear them off myself before he flicked open the button.

  “Why?” he asked, licking and sucking the sensitive skin at the base of my neck.

  I arched my hips, hoping he’d get the message that I wanted his hands, and I wanted them now. “Paxton,” I pleaded when he didn’t move.