Rebel (The Renegades)

by Rebecca Yarros

  His room.

  This was it. Maybe.

  Don’t get your hopes up.

  Yeah, it was far too late for that. I checked my makeup in the mirror—or lack thereof—and then headed out to my balcony. The strap was still secured to my banister railing, and I tugged it out from behind the deck chair.

  I leaned over the railing, reveling in the warmth of the sun on my skin, and with the strap wrapped around one of my hands, I climbed over the railing to balance on the narrow ledge on just my tiptoes. My gaze swept left, making sure no one was watching, then I gathered the slack of the line and stepped back off my deck.

  My sore arms protested as I supported my weight on the strap, and I cursed Landon’s torturous training. He was demonic lately with the weights.

  Hand over hand, I worked my way down until my toes touched Cruz’s railing. Once I balanced on the thin strip of metal, I swung forward until I landed on his balcony. I dropped the strap and examined my reddened hands. I was going to have to buy a pair of gloves or find a better way to do that.

  Too bad Pax couldn’t just drill a fireman’s pole between our rooms.

  But that would require telling him, and he would absolutely lose his shit. Quiet wasn’t exactly in Paxton’s vocabulary.

  So, balcony it was.

  Cruz’s door was open, his sheer curtains blowing inward, and his voice reached me before I had a chance to tell him I was out there.

  “It’s not really that long when you start to think about it, Elisa. I’ll see you in a few months.”

  I didn’t move, or even breathe—too caught up in unabashedly listening, wondering who the hell the girl was.

  Don’t jump to conclusions. My brain barked a warning that my heart wouldn’t heed. There was another woman in his life, I just didn’t know who. A girlfriend? My stomach twisted at the thought, but I quickly put it aside. Cruz wasn’t the kind of man to have a woman on the side, let alone someone as inconvenient as me.

  But the thought was enough to make me ready to vomit.

  Knowing I’d already given him so much control over me? More vomit.

  “Yeah, I wish it was sooner, too.”

  An aunt? A cousin? Please God, let it be a cousin.

  I stepped into the doorframe, uncomfortable with eavesdropping, but his back was to me as he held his phone to his ear. Was that why he hadn’t put his cell contract on hold like the rest of us? So he could talk to whoever Elisa was?

  All awkwardness aside, I didn’t want to snoop where he didn’t want me, so I stepped inside and cleared my throat.

  He turned quickly, his eyes narrowed for a second before he realized it was me, and then a soft smile took its place. “Hey, I’m talking to my sister. Give me just a second.” He motioned to the chair that was covered with a stack of clothes, shook his head, and nodded toward the empty bed instead.

  I sat on the edge of his bed—identical to mine—and sighed a pathetically huge amount of stress away. His sister. If anything, his announcement showed how little I really knew about him. He had an entire life off this ship, and in that regard, so did I, but here, we felt separated from the world, as if whatever burdened us had been left behind with whatever we deemed unnecessary to pack for this year.

  I thought back to his grandmother’s house, but I didn’t remember seeing any pictures, or anyone ever having mentioned a sister.

  “Okay, I’ll call you again from Buenos Aires, okay? That’s in three weeks. See what you can work out by then, and call the financial aid office. I know. I love you, too. Bye, Elisa.”

  He hit a button on his phone and tossed it into the open pack at the foot of his dresser.

  “Sorry to make you wait.” His voice rumbled, low and deep.

  “I don’t mind.”

  The air in the cabin changed as if he’d hit the thermostat, or maybe it was just the temperature of my body elevating in slight degrees with every second he stared at me like that.

  “Your sister?” I asked, hoping to cut the tension.

  He smiled, his dimples flashing. “Elisa. Yeah. She’s turning eighteen in a couple months. Just got into Harvard against pretty much every odd.”

  The pride in his voice melted me. He sounded like I’d felt when Brooke had been admitted to the honors program at UCLA.

  “That’s amazing. I guess brilliance runs in the family.”

  “She’s pretty spectacular. Kind of a pain in my ass sometimes, but worth it.”

  “Most sisters are,” I answered, trying to force a smile that probably came out more like a grimace. Thinking about Brooke wasn’t something I wanted to do right now. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

  His eyes took on a predatory gleam, his full lips tilting in a way that had me immediately restless, uncrossing my legs and shifting on the bed.

  “Your proposition.”

  “My…proposition?” I asked, distracted by the simple movements of his body as he stalked toward me.

  “Yes, Penelope,” he answered as he reached for me, both of his hands tangling through my hair to cradle the back of my head. “The one where outside this room, we’re professional, courteous, and keep our eyes and hands to ourselves.” He whispered the last part into my ear, his close-trimmed beard deliciously rough against my cheek.

  “But in this room?” God, I hoped this was going where I thought it was. If not I was going to have a set of blue lady-balls I wouldn’t be able to cure.

  “In this room,” he said, trailing his lips down my jawline. “Or your locked room—I’m all about equality—you belong to me.”

  He leaned in for a kiss, and I backed away. “And you belong to me.”

  “I belong to you,” he agreed, his smile more than swoon-worthy as he gently pushed me back until I fell against his comforter.

  “And what about when we’re not in these rooms?” I asked, my heart galloping as he slid over me, bracing his weight with his knees and massive arms on either side my body.

  “I’m your teacher,” he said, eyebrows furrowing.

  “No shit. I mean, if we only belong to each other in here, then out there, are we…you know…seeing other people?” The words rushed out of me in a stream of verbal vomit that I immediately wanted to suck back in.

  No, you need to know.

  His brown eyes widened, then narrowed as his gaze dropped to my parted lips. How the hell did he do that—make me feel like he was already kissing me before he so much as made contact?

  “No one else. I wouldn’t be able to contain myself if I saw some boy with his hands on you. We’d be found out in a millisecond.”

  “Is that the only reason? You’re worried we’d be outed?” I raised a knee, rubbing my leg along his side in the process. I understood if it was—he was risking a hell of a lot more than I was. I might have my reputation on the line if this got out, but Cruz was risking his entire career.

  “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” he growled.

  “Yep, just like you made me say yes in Vegas.” I mentally high-fived myself for keeping my wits when I was under him. Everything about the man was intoxicating, from the sensual shape of his lips, to the intensity of his eyes, the heat from his perfectly-honed body—even his cologne. But I needed to know where we stood. I had to know if I had a parachute on this jump, or if I was about to head into free fall.

  “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, then looked into my eyes as if he could see my very soul—every whole and damaged piece. “There will be no one else. First off, I don’t play around with women—definitely not someone I care about like I do you. Secondly, I don’t want anyone else. You’re the only woman who can make me crazy enough to chance this. You’re the only woman I can’t get out of my head or my dreams. There’s no one else for me, because I’d rather have these stolen moments with you than have a normal relationship with anyone else.”

  Whoa.

  “Normal is overrated.” Well, that certainly came out all breathy.

  “And y
ou?” he asked, a flash of something running through his eyes. Vulnerability? Apprehension?

  “There’s no one else.” I brought my hands up to cup the rough sides of his cheeks, reveling in the permission to touch him. “I’ve never met someone that I wanted the way I want you. No one else can even dream about competing with how you make me feel in every possible way. There’s only you.”

  His weight came down at the same time his mouth met mine. He kissed me softly, a lingering caress that sent tingles shooting all the way to my toes.

  “I need to put my hands on you.” The statement came out like a plea.

  “Yes,” I said, knowing he’d want the words.

  He glanced over at the bedside clock. “Half an hour before we have to meet for the excursion. I can do a lot with half an hour.”

  I couldn’t respond—he’d reclaimed my mouth. It had been weeks since I’d tasted him, and I kissed him with every pent-up feeling I’d kept bottled under pressure, giddy that I’d never have to go that long again.

  His tongue tangled with mine, slowly thrusting in a way that had my hips rolling against his as he settled into the space between my thighs.

  “Penelope,” he growled against my lips, one of his hands reaching down to steady my hips. With another kiss, his grip changed, the fingers digging into the thin, jungle-friendly material of my cargo pants.

  “Cruz,” I answered, looping my legs around his back to kick off my shoes. Thank God I hadn’t put on my hiking boots yet, or that would have been as awkward as a junior-high dance.

  His thumb swirled over the skin of my stomach as his mouth moved to my neck, pushing every button I never realized I had.

  “I’ve thought about this so many times since Vegas,” he admitted after a kiss to my collarbone.

  Another shot of electricity raced through me.

  “Me, too,” I admitted, running my fingers through his thick hair, playing with where he’d let the ends on top grow out a little longer.

  “Did you?” he asked, looking up at me as he ran kisses down my sternum, then hovered over a breast.

  “Yes,” I said, arching up to feel his mouth. I remembered exactly how that felt, his lips, his tongue, the way he could manage to take every ounce of tension in my body and spiral it tight within my belly.

  “Did you remember how I kissed you? How you moaned my name?”

  “Cruz.”

  “Did you?” he asked, letting his bottom lip catch my nipple as he lightly caressed me over my clothes.

  “Yes!” I hissed, more than aware that I couldn’t cry out loudly. I was happy to strip off my own clothes if it made it easier on him—and me.

  “Good, because it was the only sound I’ve been able to hear for weeks. When you’re in class asking me a question? I hear you moaning my name. When I’m watching you run, I feel the curves of your ass in my hands, rising up to meet me. When you’re arguing with me, I remember how sweet you taste and envision shutting you up with my mouth, even though I know that would never work. And when you’re ignoring me, doing your best to look the other way, or worse, trying to make me jealous, I remember how soft and wet you are”—he cupped me between my thighs—“here.”

  “Cruz.” I rocked against his hand.

  “I love the way you say my name.” He slid up until his mouth was right next to my ear. “At some point I’m going to get you far enough away from here to hear you scream it. Multiple times.”

  I yanked his head back to mine and kissed my feelings into him, the desperation in my body echoed by the thrust of my tongue into his mouth, the arch of my hips.

  If he could turn me on this fast with nothing but a kiss, I couldn’t wait to see what else he could do. I urged him on like I did everything else in my life—with complete focus and abandon. Nothing in the world mattered outside of Cruz and the feelings that rolled through me, taking my breath with their intensity.

  “If you don’t touch me soon, I’ll be screaming your name in a different, more frustrated way,” I threatened.

  Damn it, those dimples appeared.

  “My Penelope is impatient, is she?” he asked with a grin.

  I glared and slid backward until I was free enough to sit up. How much control did he have? What would it take to break it? With a quick pull, I had my shirt over my head. A snap later, I’d freed my breasts.

  “Fuck me,” he swore, his hands on his knees, his eyes going from playful to ravenous in a millisecond.

  “Yes.”

  That did it. He was on me, over me, his fingers gently rolling one nipple while his tongue worshipped the other. That same fire within me roared to life, each tug of his mouth sending unbelievable pulses of pleasure so powerful I could almost taste them.

  His hand slid down my belly to unsnap the button of my pants. Thank you, God. The zipper coming undone was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard next to Cruz saying my name.

  He took my mouth again with deep, drugging kisses, and I only broke the sweet torture when his hand hovered just above my panty line.

  “Yes,” I said again, in case he missed my permission the first time. I loved that he wanted me comfortable, only willing to take it as far as I wanted, but I also wanted to know what it was like when he wasn’t quite so cautious, when he felt just as wild as I did.

  With a gentle bite of my lower lip, his fingers sank beneath my panties to stroke over my core, and then slipped inward until he brushed over my clit. Now the fire in my stomach burst outward, only to come right back, building higher and brighter.

  “Penelope,” he groaned, and I decided it was definitely the best sound I’d ever heard in my life. My name on his lips was even better than hearing it called at the X Games.

  He was a bigger rush, a deeper pleasure.

  I tugged at his shirt, needing to feel his skin against mine, and he obliged, taking it off with a motion that left me drooling. Then my hands were on the perfect skin of his shoulders. The man had a body that I couldn’t wait to touch everywhere, explore every line, taste the softness of his skin with my mouth.

  I’d always thought I was above ogling well-built guys, but I didn’t think there would ever be a limit to my need to stare at Cruz.

  His thumbs hooked in my belt loops, and his eyes met mine for a moment before I nodded. Hell yes, I wanted them off. I wanted him. All of him. Before he changed his mind and I never felt this way again.

  He dragged my pants down at the same time as my thong, leaving me utterly, completely naked for the first time…ever. I didn’t have time for awkward shyness or even self-doubt, not with the way he stared at me.

  He looked at me like I was a goddess, as if the scars that I’d earned becoming Rebel didn’t detract from what he found beautiful. I’d never regretted a single scar, or felt self-conscious about them, but I’d never been in bed with a man who was walking perfection, either.

  “There are no words,” he said, running his hand from the side of my breast to the outside of my hip. I moved with him in a ripple, the move sensual in a way I didn’t realize I had in me. “I could tell you all day how beautiful you are, how absolutely fucking exquisite, but words would never compare to seeing you like this.”

  I might have been turned on before, but those words launched me into all systems go.

  He lay out on top of me, the rough material of his pants wonderfully abrasive against my newly shaven legs, and kissed me soundly.

  One kiss rolled into the next, his hands roaming over my curves, lighting up my nerve endings with every touch until he finally made his way back to where my body ached for him most.

  He alternated kissing my neck and mouth as his fingers stroked and teased, keeping me so tightly wound that I thought I might burst at any moment. My hips jerked as he put perfect pressure against my clit, only to keep me on that tantalizing ridge I knew he could so easily push me over.

  I’d never needed anything so badly in my life.

  “Cruz,” I pleaded, one of my hands in his hair and the other on his shoulder wh
ere I was sure my nails had left marks again.

  His breathing was almost ragged as he changed his angle and slid one finger inside me.

  Holy. Shit.

  That felt more than incredible. I drew inward, all my muscles tightening.

  “Damn, you’re tight, Penelope. So small,” he said, sliding his finger within me, dragging it along my inner walls as my breath hitched. Then he slipped in another finger, and though there was a burn from the stretch, it was…

  That felt…felt…f…

  My brain quit thinking in words.

  “That’s it,” he whispered soothingly. “You’re so beautiful like this, coming undone for me.”

  He pressed once more against my clit, and I didn’t explode—I unraveled. He covered my mouth, and any sound I could have made, with a kiss as my body let go of everything that held it so tense and was rewoven anew.

  His lips moved softly over mine, kissing me back down from the high as he gently slid his fingers free. “I can’t wait to make you do that again,” he told me.

  I felt him hard against my thigh and smiled through my sleepy, nearly drunken haze. The man had successfully turned me inarticulate. “Me, too. I never dreamed it would feel like that,” I admitted, turning to my side so I could gently palm his erection through his pants. These definitely needed to come off. I couldn’t wait to see him. Touch him. Taste him. I felt like someone opened up Disney World just for me—I was the only one allowed to ride Cruz. “I think now is good.”

  “Wait,” he said, taking my hand off him and kissing my fingers.

  I pouted. “What?”

  “What do you mean you’d never dreamed it would feel like that?”

  “I mean, that was the most incredible, pleasurable experience of my life.”

  He pulled back, confusion wrinkling his perfect forehead. “But you have had orgasms before, right?”

  “Sure, but nothing like that,” I answered, stretching like a cat against him. I couldn’t remember a time I’d ever felt this good before. “So much better than my BOB.”

  “Okay, I take it back. I don’t need to hear about other guys right now.”