Riding the Edge (The Wild Riders Series)

by Jaci Burton

  “And did you?”

  “Go wild?” She let out a soft laugh. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t know how. I was tentative. I’d been sheltered. Having all that freedom scared the hell out of me.”

  “And you had guys beating down the door to get at you, I’d bet.”

  She laughed. “Not really. I was painfully shy. Pretty much a wallflower.”

  “I can’t see that.”

  “Thanks. But I was. Fortunately, I had my best friend, Lacey, as my roommate and we stuck close together and weathered the first couple awkward years of college. And boys. And then men.”

  “So your sexual awakening was in college, with the frat boys?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did they treat you good?”

  What an odd question. Why would he even care about that? “I suppose. I wasn’t mistreated. I didn’t end up on a website or in a Girls Gone Wild video. But then again I was never a big drinker, so I always knew what I was doing. And I was selective in who I went out with.”

  “Sounds practical.”

  He made it sound like she was boring. Maybe she had been. She certainly couldn’t pinpoint anyone or anything remarkable from her undergrad days.

  “So how many?”

  “How many what?”

  “How many guys?”

  She lifted her chin. “That’s a bit personal, don’t you think?”

  “Okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

  “Four.”

  “That’s it? Four? You’ve only been with four guys? How old are you?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  Rick dragged his fingers through his hair. “Damn.”

  “How about you?”

  “Uh . . .”

  “That many, huh?” And why did it irritate her so much that he couldn’t just pull a number out of his head right then? “Go ahead. Give it some thought. I’ll wait.”

  And she did. Drank her coffee, twiddled her toes, glanced over at the clock, then back at him while he stared up at the ceiling and did mental math.

  “Are you kidding me? It’s that hard to count a few sex partners?”

  “Uh . . .”

  Oh, for God’s sake. “Never mind.”

  “Thirty-three.”

  Her eyes widened. “What? Are you serious? Thirty-three?”

  “Give or take.”

  “Jesus. Am I thirty-four, or thirty-three?”

  His lips curled. “I didn’t count you.”

  “Why the hell not? Because you only counted the memorable ones?” Which meant she’d been utterly forgettable. Great. Just great.

  “No, that’s not what I meant at all.”

  And he was laughing. Asshole. She put down her coffee and stood. “Get out.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Get out.”

  “You’re serious.”

  She pointed to the door. “Get. Out.”

  “You are serious.” He stood. “You’re really going to toss me out of here because of the number of women I’ve had sex with.”

  Men were so clueless sometimes. “I need to take a shower. And I need some time alone.”

  “I could wash your back.” He lifted his brows.

  “Oh,” she muttered a sound of disgust. “Just get out, Rick.”

  “Okay. Jesus. Sorry.” He went to the door, turned, and looked at her. “Call me when you’re over being grumpy.”

  She slammed the door in his face, double locked it, and flopped back on the bed to stare up at the ceiling.

  Her heart was pounding and her face was hot, flushed with the heat of anger and embarrassment.

  Thirty-three. What a man whore. Damn good thing he’d worn a condom, since his cock had been so well used before he’d been with her.

  But as the minutes ticked by and she continued to gaze up at the monotonous white ceiling, she didn’t know what she was more upset about—that Rick had had so much sex, or she’d had so little.

  Maybe it was the combination of Rick’s experience and what she’d seen with Lacey last night. It seemed like everyone was so adept at broadening their horizons—except her.

  Though she’d certainly gotten a good start last night with Rick, as well as the night before. Phone sex, and a night of awesome in-person sex. She couldn’t recall ever climaxing like she had with Rick. He brought out a wild, uninhibited side to her she never knew existed, and she had a feeling they’d only scratched the surface of what she was capable of—what they were capable of doing together.

  So what the hell was she doing throwing a tantrum and tossing him out of her room, when instead she could be tapping into his wealth of experience while she had the chance?

  Dumbass.

  If she’d spent less time holed up with books and more time with men, she’d have known how to handle this—how to handle him. Instead, she’d acted like a fourteen-year-old with a bruised ego when, really, his prior sex partners had nothing to do with her—with them.

  She jumped up and took a shower, dried her hair, and got dressed, then grabbed her jacket and bag and marched down to Rick’s room, raised her hand, then paused before knocking, feeling every bit of two inches tall for her ridiculous outburst earlier.

  She knocked, her pulse pounding, not sure what she was going to say when he opened the door.

  If he was even still in there.

  He pulled open the door and her breath caught.

  He was wearing jeans, unbuttoned. No shirt. Bare feet. His hair was still wet like he’d just gotten out of the shower and pulled on the jeans to answer the door.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “No. I was just getting out of the shower. Come on in.”

  She did. He closed the door and she stepped into his room.

  He was a typical guy—clothes tossed everywhere. She resisted the urge to straighten up.

  “Sorry. I just toss shit around. Let me move that.”

  “It’s fine.” She moved his discarded shirt so she could sit in the chair.

  “You want some coffee? I brewed the in-room stuff. It tastes rank, but it’s better than nothing.”

  “No. Thank you.”

  “Okay.” He turned around and reached into his bag to grab a white T-shirt and lifted his arms to put it on. While his back was turned, Ava had an unrestricted view of the way his muscles stretched across his back and shoulders.

  So much she hadn’t seen last night, hadn’t touched. He had a few scars, too, white lines that stood out against his darkly tanned torso. She itched to run her fingers, her tongue, across those scars, and ask how and where he’d gotten them.

  Too personal, too intimate. She didn’t want to know. She’d already told him too much about herself and look where that conversation had led. It was best to keep things impersonal between them. What they had wasn’t going anywhere beyond this week, anyway.

  “I’m sorry about earlier. I behaved badly and I had no reason.”

  He turned around and smiled at her. “It’s not your fault, darlin’. I was a dick.”

  “No you weren’t.”

  He squatted down in front of her and laid his hands on her knees. “Yeah, I was. I was teasing you and you hated it.”

  “I didn’t hate it. Much.” She looked down.

  He tipped her chin up with his fingers, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You hated it. I’m sorry.”

  He spread her knees apart and moved between her thighs, cradled her face in his hands and kissed her. It was soft, the touch of his lips so light she could barely feel it. And because of that, she held her breath, absorbed the utter sweetness of his apology. For a man who looked and acted so hard, the lightness of this kiss rocked her.

  When he pulled back, she felt shaken, disoriented, like she was drugged.

  “Thank you,” she managed.

  He swept his hand along her hair. “For what?”

  “I don’t know. I just like being with you. You
do something to me, Rick. I can’t explain it.”

  His hand stilled and she studied the expression on his face. She’d almost call it shock or surprise, but she certainly hadn’t said anything shockworthy.

  “You hungry?”

  She nodded. “Starving.”

  He pushed off the arms of the chair and stood. “Me, too. Let’s go get some breakfast.”

  Rick ate his breakfast, inhaled a few more cups of coffee, and pondered what Ava had said earlier.

  She’d surprised him, and women generally didn’t. That alone made her unique.

  He’d felt bad for teasing her, because he could tell he’d hurt her feelings.

  She was way more innocent than he’d originally thought, which only made this assignment more confusing.

  What was a woman who had a total of four sex partners—and he figured he was probably included in those four—doing with a gang like the Hellraisers? It made no sense. She wasn’t worldly or streetwise. She was sheltered. She’d said so herself. After being all but monitored 24/7 by her parents, she’d gone off to college and . . . studied. She hadn’t partied her ass off and fucked one guy after another. She’d gone to college and gotten an education. And then a master’s degree after that.

  She had no history of drugs or violence or hanging out with gangs.

  So what the fuck was she doing here with this gang?

  He supposed he could just ask her. But what if for some reason she was embedded in the Hellraisers for a reason? Hell, for all he knew she’d been paired up with him to test him, since he’d asked Bo to get back in the gang.

  Her whole innocent act could be just that—an act. She could be lying to him about everything—including the four guys she’d fucked.

  Which meant he was going to have to keep doing what he was doing. He’d have to stay close to her to figure out her angle, without revealing his own.

  Dammit, he hated being in the dark.

  “You’re quiet over there.”

  He lifted his head to look over at her. God, she was beautiful. He really couldn’t get over her. Today she wore a burgundy turtleneck sweater that clung to those gorgeous breasts of hers, tight jeans that molded to her full hips and thighs and outlined her sweet ass just perfectly. He’d enjoyed walking behind her as they were led to the table. She’d left her hair loose, and it hung like a waterfall of raven silk over her breasts.

  He could stare at her all day and not say a damn word. But that wasn’t what he was supposed to do, so instead, he grinned. “Sorry. I really was hungry.”

  “I can see that. I was afraid you were going to lick your plate.”

  He looked down at his empty plate, then over at her partially finished one. “I thought about grabbing that last piece of bacon.”

  She picked it up and offered it to him. “Be my guest.”

  He took it from her. “Thanks.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know where you put it all. There isn’t an ounce of fat on you. Do you work out or run or something?”

  “I work out when I can.”

  “I thought you rode a lot.”

  “I do. But you can’t ride twenty-four hours a day. And wherever I go I make sure there’s a gym where I can go a few rounds in the ring.”

  “You box?”

  He nodded and pushed his plate to the edge of the table. “It’s great exercise.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “What about you? What do you do for fun?”

  “Yoga.”

  “That figures. You look like the spiritual guru, get-into-the-head kind of person.”

  She laughed. “It’s not at all like that. Well, it can be. But it’s a great muscle workout, too. And it relaxes me.”

  “If you say so.”

  “You should try it with me sometime.”

  “Can we do it naked?”

  She looked at him, then burst out laughing. “Only you would suggest that.”

  “That’s why you like me.”

  She quirked her lips. “Probably.”

  “Hey, you two snuck out of our room last night and missed all the partying.”

  Ava looked up to find Lacey leaning over her shoulder. “You and Bo were kind of busy.”

  Lacey fell into the chair next to her and grinned. “Yeah, we were. We just got up. Oh my God, what a fun night.” She grabbed Ava’s hand. “You should have stayed. We could have had a . . . sixsome.” Then she laughed so loud that the customers in the restaurant began to look their way.

  Ava shifted and leaned over the table, whispering. “Probably not something you want broadcast to the entire place.”

  Lacey waved her hand and sniffed. “Oh, who cares. Bunch of prudes, anyway. So, did you and Rick get it on?”

  Who was this person?

  “I don’t think Ava’s interested in giving you the details of her sex life,” Rick said, saving Ava from having to tell her best friend that she was being too intrusive.

  “Why not? Oh, I know, because Ava rarely even has a sex life.” Lacey snorted.

  Ava’s face flamed, and she fought hard to retain her concern for her friend. “Lace, have you eaten yet?”

  Lacey’s gaze flitted around the room, as if she’d just now discovered she was in a restaurant. “Oh. No. I’m not even hungry.” She laughed again. “What time is it?”

  “Ten.”

  “That early? What the hell am I doing up? I thought it was like . . . afternoon or something. I think I’ll go back to bed.” She pushed back from her chair and stood, then walked away without saying good-bye.

  Ava watched her go, concerned more than ever about Lacey’s increasingly bizarre behavior.

  “She always that disjointed?” Rick asked.

  “No.”

  Rick leaned back and leveled his gaze at her.

  “What?”

  “You’re worried about her.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Why?”

  “Because who you just saw is not the Lacey I’ve always known.”

  “Yeah. Who is she?”

  Ava watched Lacey disappear, then blew out a breath of frustration.

  “I wish I knew, Rick. I really wish I knew.”

  Because the way things looked now, it was much worse than Ava had originally thought. She had thought it was just love that had changed Lacey from studious to flighty.

  Now she feared it was more than that.

  And a lot worse.

  NINE

  Rick studied the concern on Ava’s face, and wondered if her friend Lacey was the primary reason for Ava being with the Hellraisers.

  Not to irritate her father, not because she was involved in drug distribution.

  But because she was concerned about her friend.

  He’d have to walk a fine line here, but he intended to find out. And he hoped that Ava was in the mood to talk.

  “Let’s head on out of here.” He pushed his chair back and stood. Ava followed.

  “So tell me, what’s different about her?” he asked as they headed toward the elevator.

  She stepped inside, waited while Rick pushed the button and the doors swooshed closed, then turned to him, seemingly eager to unload her concerns on someone. He was glad to be that person.

  “She’s frenetic. All over the place. Lacey used to be calm, organized. And shy. Oh so shy. Does she seem shy to you now?”

  Rick laughed. “Uh, no. Not from what I saw in their room last night.”

  “Exactly. Everything about her changed after she . . .”

  “After she what?”

  She hesitated. “I don’t want to make you mad.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “How could you make me mad?”

  “It’s about Bo.”

  “You can be blunt with me about whatever you want, Ava, including Bo. Say what’s on your mind.”

  “Everything changed after she met your cousin.”

  The doors opened and they started down the hallway toward their rooms. “And you think it has
something to do with Lacey hooking up with Bo.”

  “Yes. As soon as she started dating Bo, her entire life changed.”

  She handed her key to Rick and he opened her door. Ava slid into the chair near the window and Rick took the chair on the other side of the small table. Sunlight streamed into the room, highlighting her hair and face. She didn’t turn away like she had something to hide, instead leaned into the light like she was soaking up the warmth.

  “Tell me how her life changed.”

  “She quit school. We were in the master’s program together, and she dropped out with only one year to go.”

  “Was she struggling?”

  Ava let out a short laugh. “Not at all. Lacey was an ace student with plans far into the future for both her academics and her career as a psychologist. But after she met Bo and started riding with the Hellraisers, everything changed.”

  Rick shrugged. “People grow up, Ava. Sometimes that happens. What they thought they wanted when they were younger is sometimes altered when they get a little age and experience in them.”

  “I realize that. But not Lacey. She knew what she wanted to do, what she wanted to be. She was focused, had short- and long-term goals. She knew on Monday what she was going to do on Friday.”

  “A little anal?”

  Ava managed a slight smile. “A little. But I’ve known her all my life. I know how she thinks, how she acts. The woman you saw downstairs isn’t anything like her.”

  “And you think that has something to do with her relationship with Bo?”

  Ava worried her lip, hesitating.

  “You can talk to me without worrying I’m going to go running to Bo. I don’t tell him anything.”

  She nodded. “I think joining the Hellraisers had everything to do with her change in personality, but I don’t think it’s just Bo.”

  He didn’t want to ask leading questions, so he just let the silence drift between them and gave her time to think it out.

  “Her eyes were so glassy. And we knew they were smoking pot last night.”

  “Yes.”

  She waved her hand in the air. “But that wears off. And it wouldn’t account for her frenetic behavior. She’s been sniffling a lot. Her nose is irritated.”

  He knew where she was going, but he wanted her to say it.