What if escaping the RD life was a mistake?
What if the person I wanna be isn’t who I’m meant to be?
What if there’s more out there than I ever thought?
Case in point, the sexy blonde blasting her country music once-a-fucking-gain.
The last thing I wanted was to set her off, ask her to change the channel for the sake of my sanity. It seemed this shit-kicking stuff soothed her, and who was I to judge? This was her ride after all.
Ever since we’d loaded our bags and took off from the hotel, Summer had grown weird on me. Distant. Cold. Less… cheerleader. When she’d stepped out of the bathroom, she played it off like nothing had happened. Just packed up her stuff, and left the hotel, me trailing after her like a lost puppy.
I needed to apologize. Again. But I didn’t know how to go about doing so without bringing up the unmentionable. The unmentionable that I hadn’t been able to get out of my head all day.
Her mouth, my cock…
I shut my eyes, swallowing hard, a total asshole for reliving it in my mind for the thousandth time today.
We were just outside Colorado Springs when an idea hit me. Like she could sense my thoughts, Summer, shockingly, piped up first.
“So. Where exactly are we headed now?” The wipers and the steady rain on the windshield, along with her music, made for the worst background noise ever. “The hotels I booked are no good because of our extra day in Des Moines. Furthermore, we’re at least a day behind schedule.”
“Keep driving.” Open air, plenty of space to get away from one another… My idea was perfect. Hopefully she’d agree.
“Please tell me an actual answer, would you?” she whispered, then sniffed, then sighed.
I jerked my head to look at her, needing to make sure she wasn’t crying. Which she wasn’t, thank fuck. But I could tell she was barely holding it together.
“I’ll tell you where to turn. Just stay on this road.” Per the sign we’d just driven by, we didn’t have much further to go.
“Have you ever been camping before?” I finally asked, needing to fill the silence with something other than my crazy thoughts. Thoughts that included pulling over and reciprocating what she’d done for me this morning.
She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “A little, when I was a kid.”
“Ah, I forgot.” I bounced my knee in place, impatient, on edge.
“Forgot what?” She frowned.
“That you’re high maintenance.”
“I’m not high maintenance.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s just that when I discovered hotels, I preferred those over tents.” I thought maybe she’d stop talking, but then she surprised me and kept going. “Whenever my dad would take my brothers camping and fishing, I learned that staying behind with friends, or going to my grandparents’ house, was a much better option.”
“In other words, princesses don’t like to get dirty. I get it.”
Other than a little twitch of her lips, she didn’t react. But her knuckles whitened as she tightened her fingers around the steering wheel, proof she was losing her shit. I wanted her to snap at me, react in some way other than this comatose shit. It was driving me insane, especially since it was my fault.
I leaned back in the seat and I kicked my feet on the dash. “Take the next exit.”
“What’d you say?” She jerked her head my way.
“I said, take the next—”
Something thumped beneath the car, and Summer squealed, losing control of the wheel. The Rover swerved to the right, and I gripped the oh-shit bar, putting my feet flat on the floor.
I fell to the side, then looked at the side mirror, eyes narrowing at the view. Dust and rock kicked up behind us as we slowed to a stop along the side of the road.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.
The engine hissed. The radio was still playing the same twang I hated—louder now that we weren’t moving. I reached forward to shut it off, but Summer beat me to it.
“Leave it,” she snarled.
I put my hands up.
With a loud huff, she pressed her forehead against the steering wheel, knocking it twice.
“You good?” I cringed.
Her narrowed eyes shot my way. “Get. Out. Of my. Car.”
“Uh…” I scratched at my throat.
“I said, get. Out.”
“I’m not getting out, it’s still raining.” As if mocking me, the sun flickered through the clouds.
“Yes. You are.”
“You can’t make me, you know.” I tapped my finger along the door, messing with her. A riled-up Summer was so much easier to deal with than a quiet one.
“What, are you five?” She grabbed her door and shoved it open. “Get. Out!”
I watched her through the windshield as she maneuvered her way to my side, stumbling once against the front bumper. Trying like hell to curb my smirk, I opened the door, intending to help her stay upright. But she managed herself, eventually making her way to me.
She ripped my door open the rest of the way and yelled, “Now, Niyol.” She gripped my sleeve and yanked.
“Hey, watch it.” I laughed—because I couldn’t help it.
Relentless, Summer kept pulling until I finally gave in. When I stood, she jumped back, squeaking as she lost her balance and fell flat on her ass, right into a mud puddle.
“Jesus, you okay?” I reached down to help her stand.
She shoved my hand away. “You stupid son of a—”
“No need for the language.” I wrapped my arms around her waist and helped her up anyway, but only for her to jump back, hands at her side like I’d burnt her. I couldn’t help but grin as I scanned the length of her body. She looked like she belonged in a ring with a bikini.
“You’re dead.” The wetness hit my face so fast, I didn’t have time to jump and cover.
She’d nailed me with a ball of mud?
“So, you wanna get a little dirty after all, Princess?” I curled my lip.
Her face was like a fireball—ready-to-explode red. Then before I could stop her, another ball of mud flung from her other hand, this time landing on my thigh.
I arched my eyebrows. “Another one? That wasn’t very nice.”
“What? You don’t like to get dirty?” Her lips pursed.
“Oh, I like it dirty.” I tipped my head to the side, stalking her as I moved close.
“Oh, I bet you do.” She crouched to grab two more handfuls of mud, then stood, her lips pulled up on one side. My dick twitched behind my zipper at the view, his mind on one thing, and one thing alone.
Summer wound her arm back.
“Don’t do it.”
She batted her lashes once, then twice, before flinging another handful at my cheek this time. It stuck to my chin—cold and wet. I reached up to wipe it off with my fingers, half smiling, pissed, and ready to strip her out of those white shorts to show her how dirty my cock wanted to get.
“You are in a lot of trouble.” Like I was a soldier headed to battle, I ran to her and swooped her up and over my shoulder. She screeched, beating my backside with her fists.
“Stop it. Put me down.”
I laughed again and held my palm on her thigh beneath her ass.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I growled.
She froze while I slipped my hand just beneath the edges of her shorts. “Did anyone ever tell you what a nice ass you have?” I taunted.
“Wh-what are you…” She all but melted, her voice like a kitten’s purr.
I traced the skin just beneath the fringe of her cut-offs, distracted and trying not to linger. If I kept exploring, I wouldn’t be able to stop.
And God help me, I didn’t want to.
“It’s so round,” I kept going. “Just the right size to spank.”
“You wouldn’t,” she hissed.
I took two small steps forward and shrugged my free shoulder. “Yeah, you’re—”
Without a warning, I
slipped, falling to my knees, only for Summer to slide from my hold, landing face first, somehow, back in the mud.
“Shit. I’m so fucking sorry.” Covered from hip to boot in my own bath of mud, I watched as she laid there, frozen.
“You jerk.” A second later, she was up again, facing me. “Look what you did!”
“Total accident. I swear.” I held up my hands, trying not to laugh as she attempted—more so failed—to brush the mud from her face, her clothes…
Cringing, I took the free moment, ignoring the wild noises and words I’d inspired from her mouth, and inspected the damage on her truck. The tire was in crap shape, flattened down to the rim.
I rubbed both hands over my muddy face and sighed. Of course, this was my fault—everything else on this trip had been so far. And I had no doubt she’d let me know it too.
Fuck. My. Life.
Thirteen
Summer
“But we don’t even have a tent. Haven’t you ever heard of wild animals?”
Niyol quirked a brow at me, unnervingly calm. “You got nothing to be afraid of.”
“Well, excuse me if I’m a little worried about staying at a place named Swift Wolf where, in fact, there might very well be wolves lurking around us while we sleep.”
He rolled his eyes. “If we keep the fire going, we’ll be fine.”
I pushed ahead of him, ramming my shoulder against his as I walked over to the nearby picnic table and plopped my bag down. As I straddled the seat, I attempted to enjoy the scenery, the way the trees whispered in the warm wind. How the sounds of birds could be heard from miles away, but not a single camper tarried about. Maybe that fact should have alarmed me, but the promise of a few more hours of sleep was distracting me enough not to care.
Niyol moved about the campsite, his steps sure and confident, the same black boots he always wore crunching through the brush. In front of the firepit, he stacked some wood and shoved bits of newspaper just beneath, then peppered it with lighter fluid that he’d purchased at the ranger station. A second later, he took a step back and frowned, studying it like an unsolvable puzzle.
Standing there like that, with his dark hair covering one eye, lips pressed into a thin line, Niyol looked like a powerful warrior wanting nothing more than to overpower the world. Or at least this fire.
I, on the other hand, looked like a yeti—covered in mud from our roadside-war earlier. The looks we’d earned when we reserved this spot were almost enough of an incentive for me to head toward the dirty shower stalls a little way up the road. But in the end, exhaustion held me back. Soon, though.
“Grab the rest of the dry wood from the trunk, would you?”
“Ever heard of the magic word?” I huffed.
He rolled his eyes. “Pretty please gimme the wood, Princess?”
Now he was just being a smartass. Still, I went and got his wood. Why? Simple. Because I was an idiot.
After I handed it to him, I stepped back and brushed off my hands on my shorts. They were caked in mud, just like my body, and no amount of bleach could make them white again.
A yawn escaped me right then. The need for a nap had me peering around the campsite for a spot to crash. By the back bumper of my Rover, there sat a sleeping bag spread out on the ground, with another on top, which would serve perfectly as a pillow. I’m not sure where they’d come from, the ranger station again maybe. Either way, it looked a lot more appealing than the ground or the backseat of my Rover.
Regardless, if I’d never run off the road and got a flat tire, we’d at least be in Denver by now. Possibly at a nice hotel with clean linens and real pillows.
“I’m such an idiot,” I snorted under my breath, wiping sweat off my brow beneath my long bangs.
Niyol moved in next to me, his arm brushing mine. “You talking to yourself?” he asked.
“I was thinking out loud, actually.”
“Hmm.” He struck a match and dropped it into the pit; seconds later our fire was born.
“What do you mean, hmm?” I narrowed my eyes, watching every move he made.
“You do that a lot?” He crouched down to adjust some wood with a long, skinny stick.
“Think out loud, you mean?”
He nodded.
“Yeah. It’s therapeutic.” It was part of my personality, to talk things out, figure out problems, solve them with my words. There wasn’t a crime against it, yet Niyol’s comment made me feel like a fool.
Lips twitching, he glanced up from under a dark patch of his hair, studying me again. He did that a lot, and it made me uncomfortable. Made my skin itchy. Like, I constantly had to touch my face to make sure there wasn’t something on it.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I finally asked, shifting from one foot to another.
“You’re just…” He blew out a slow breath, losing his smile, before looking into the fire.
“I’m what?” Impatient, I tapped the toe of my foot.
He scowled at it. “Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. Did I do something to make you mad again?” Because I wouldn’t be surprised if I did. My new name should’ve have been: Niyol Lattimore’s Antagonist Extraordinaire.
“Christ, Princess. Don’t get all moody-sensitive on me. I was just thinking you were funny, is all.”
He stood, putting his back to me—all man and woods and… God, he had nice back muscles. I could see them beneath his shirt, shifting and pulling at the material, like it was ten times too small.
“No one’s ever called me funny before.” I cursed my stupid thoughts, his compliment most of all, and looked to the sky to pray for strength to get through this night.
Of course he ignored me. What was new?
Two could totally play that game.
Niyol was messing with me again. Running, then staying, fighting, then pretending that everything was some big joke. It was both exhausting and infuriating and… fascinating. So fascinating, because I wanted to know what made him that way. What went on in his head most of all. Wanted to know for reasons I didn’t have any right to know for too. I was starting to care about him. Starting to be concerned about whether or not he was okay—whether he needed me to help him, hit him, or run from him altogether.
All of those were viable options that I should have been looking further into.
Unfortunately, I needed a nap first.
“Hey,” he hollered at my back as I walked toward the sleeping bag.
My feet just barely hit the edge before I decided to answer. “What, Niyol?”
He paused, exhaling heavily before he said, “Get some rest.”
My shoulders dropped. I frowned, fighting the urge to analyze the tone of his voice again. Instead of doing so, I fell to my knees and landed face first onto the sleeping bag that served as a pillow, drifting to sleep within seconds, dirty body, broody biker boy, be damned.
Take that, black silky sleeping bag.
Fourteen
Summer
I think I was having an out-of-body experience. One of those moments where you’re there, but you are not at the same time. At least, that’s what it felt like as I opened my eyes and found myself blanketed in darkness, other than the flicker of a campfire.
Then I heard an owl hooting in the distance, followed by something else that sounded close to a wolf. Or was it a mountain lion? A rustling in leaves had me gasping for breath, and I shot up, ready to fight, hands extended. Where the hell’s my pepper spray?
Panic thickened in my chest, like murky watery mud. My back throbbed from the way I’d been lying, and my skin was on fire from what was likely a thousand and one mosquito bites. I spun around to look for Niyol, finding him by the fire, relaxed as ever.
“You okay?” He was sitting on the ground, leaned back against a tree stump.
I took a shuddering breath, beyond thankful I wasn’t amid some serial-killer spree.
“Yeah.” I stood and stretched my arms above my head. Bright sparks shot into the air from t
he fire at the same time. I had to admit, it was a pretty sight. “How long have I been out?” I asked.
“About four hours.”
“What? Why didn’t you wake me?” My shoes were off, and I fumbled around until I found them lined up at the foot of the sleeping bags. Had Niyol done that for me?
“You needed rest.” He shrugged.
Despite my arguing with it, my heart took a little sputter into Swoonville: population one. How could this man be so sweet and grumpy at the same time?
“Oh. Well, thank you for, you know…” I pointed at my feet.
“No problem,” he said, gaze never straying from the fire.
I scanned the campsite. Everything around us was neat and organized. It shocked me, seeing as how most men I’d been around—my dad, brothers, Landon—could barely do laundry or dishes, let alone tidy up an entire area.
On the picnic table, there were several items of food, and my stomach growled on instinct. I hadn’t eaten all day.
“Hungry? I cooked us some hot dogs not long ago.” He stood like me, his frame tall and intimidating in the shadows as he stepped toward the table. He’d changed out of his muddy tee, but his jeans were still caked like mine.
I frowned, pointing at the paper plate holding the food. “Where’d you get them?”
“Ranger station. Got them when we were checking in. You were too busy staring at the animals on the walls to notice.” He chuckled under his breath.
I shuddered at the memory of those wolves and pumas. They decorated every bit of the area in the ranger station. Taxidermy was an art form I could never get down with.
“I’m starved.” I folded my arms and attempted to rub my hands up and down my bare shoulders to fight away a chill, only to encounter another three, itchy bumps.
“Cold?”
I nodded. “A bit. Mostly just itchy and grossed out by all the mud.”
He swatted a bug, then reached for the hem of his hooded sweatshirt. “Here. Take this then.”
I watched him, mesmerized as the base lifted enough to reveal a tattooed, dark belly. Beneath the hoodie, he wore yet another black tee that framed his massive chest. Unabashed, I took him in, my mouth practically watering at the memory of the ridges I’d just barely explored that morning. In a way, he really did remind me of Tarzan, but with darker complexion, eyes, hair… his entire persona, more so. And instead of swinging from trees, he strode around on massive calves, the movement far more animal than human.
Her Wild Ride: An addictive, steamy biker MC romance suspense novel Page 10