Wilder (The Renegades)

by Rebecca Yarros

  The motorcycle revved at the end of the course, and Penna came flying, hitting the ramp, and then going airborne. My breath held as she flipped the bike mid-air, coming down and landing smoothly on the dirt landing ramp.

  “Holy. Shit.”

  Brooke smiled. “She’s stunning. One of her medals is in an all-guy category, too.”

  I watched a series of jumpers, twisting, turning, flipping in the air. They were amazing, powerful, brave, and ridiculously talented.

  When Paxton’s turn came, I watched white-knuckled as he took the ramp, flipping mid-air and then letting the bike go momentarily. My heart stopped, my chest constricting until he put his hands back on the bars and landed gracefully.

  “Whoa! Go, Wilder!” Brooke yelled, her hands cupped around her mouth.

  I was paralyzed, barely breathing. “He let go of it.”

  “Yeah! Wait for Penna to go. She’s even better. They all know it.”

  “He let go. Mid-air.”

  She turned slowly. “It’s okay, Leah. He does it all the time. They all do. They practice over giant foam pits to start with until they get good enough. They’re okay.”

  “He’s insane.”

  She shrugged. “Yeah, they all kind of are, honestly.”

  Another round of riders went by, not all landing, some spinning to the end of the dirt, or sliding on their asses. Brooke told me when each one was okay, her voice calm and even. “You’ll be able to tell when something serious happens,” she promised.

  The day wore on, but the riders didn’t stop. The motors revved as they sped toward the ramp, only to go nearly silent along with my heartbeat as they took to the air. Hearing the engine purr as riders hit the gas after the landing became my favorite sound in the world. It was noisy and dirty, but being under the awning made everything feel slightly separated, like the Renegades were in their own little world. Penna did a trick I couldn’t even describe, where she unseated herself and then pulled back on while the bike was mid-flip. Landon brought his entire bike vertical.

  Paxton did a double backflip.

  “He’s over-rotating,” Brooke whispered, leaning forward.

  My books fell from my lap as Paxton neared the landing, nearly vertical to the ramp. “Oh my God.”

  His back tire slammed into the dirt.

  The bike flew from under him as he made impact.

  Then the bike made impact…with him.

  The engine stayed silent.

  “Paxton!” I screamed, the sound ripping from my throat without thought.

  His head bounced off the ramp, and then both he and the bike slid to the bottom.

  “This…this isn’t okay,” Brooke whispered from behind me. I was already jumping down from the bleachers, uncaring of the six-foot drop to the track. I flew across the distance to the ramp as the crew flocked to him.

  “You can’t go in there,” one of the guards said, catching me around the waist.

  “Let me go!” I fought, but he had about six inches and a hundred pounds on me. I stomped, kicked, and flailed, but I may as well have been a gnat to the guy.

  I couldn’t see Paxton, but I did make out the mangled back tire of the bike.

  Oh God. Is he…?

  “He’s not dead,” Penna said, breaking through the crowd, dressed in all of her protective gear but helmetless. “Get off her, Mike.”

  The guard let me go, and I rushed toward her. “How hurt is he?”

  The arriving ambulance answered that question for me.

  “Oh, no.”

  “Get Brooke. We’ll meet the guys at the hospital.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Paxton

  Rome

  I swatted away the light shining in my eyes. “I’m fine,” I said, having assured the hundredth doctor in the last twenty minutes.

  How long had it been since the crash? An hour? More?

  “Well, you look like shit,” Landon said, leaning back in the chair next to my bed.

  “Thanks.” I flipped him off. “I over-rotated.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed and leaned forward. “Your chest protector saved your life. You cracked it clean down the middle.”

  “Damn. That must have been some crash. You still have it for the wall?”

  Landon nodded. “I snaked it once they cut the straps off you. You can hang it next to the protector you destroyed that year you were going for the long-distance jump.”

  I grunted my approval. “Where are we?”

  “Hospital in Rome. What do you remember?”

  I thought back. “I knew I over-rotated, so I tried to push the bike back, but we came down vertical. I don’t remember anything after impact.” After hearing Leah scream my name. “Where’s Leah?”

  Landon smirked. “In the waiting room. You want her?”

  “Yeah,” I answered. “She’s got to be scared shitless.”

  “She’s tougher than you give her credit for, your little firecracker. She actually broke one of the guard’s toes trying to get to you.”

  My chest swelled with pride. “She’s something else.”

  “She is,” he agreed, then left the room, closing the door behind him. I took a moment and soaked in the quiet of the private room, testing my limb function. Everything wiggled and moved, but it hurt to breathe too deeply.

  “You’re okay!” Leah exclaimed right after she burst through the door. Her braid had come undone at the sides, giving her a slightly maddened look that made her all the more beautiful to me.

  “I’m okay,” I promised, moving to sit up.

  “Don’t you dare!” she snapped, rushing to the side of my bed. “You’re really okay?”

  “Yeah.” She was worried, and not only worried about how long I’d be out if I was hurt, but genuinely concerned for me. Damn, I liked that a little too much. “Do you want to kiss me?” I offered.

  “Yes,” she said softly, bending to caress my lips with her own. That glow was back in my heart, shiny and warm.

  “Do I get a sympathy yes, now?”

  She arched an eyebrow. “No.”

  “A guy has to try,” I said as the door opened. Apparently Italian doctors weren’t too big on knocking.

  “Mr. Wilder,” the doc said in accented English, lifting a chest X-ray to the light board and flipping it on. “You are lucky. Nothing is broken. No concussion.”

  I did a mini fist-pump. “Yes,” I hissed.

  He gave me a look of pure disdain that was echoed by Leah. “But your ninth and tenth ribs are bruised, probably where you impacted with your motorbike.”

  “But not broken,” I reiterated. Broken was a pain in the ass, but I could still function, still perform with bruised.

  “No. Not broken. You’ll need to rest until the ribs heal, but other than the scrapes on your torso, you’re fine.”

  Score one for protective gear. At least this accident had been of my own making. Hell, if I could screw up something like this, maybe I had overlooked something in the rigs. Besides, nothing bad had happened since Miami. Maybe I’d been stressed out over nothing—or worse—over my own idiocy.

  “We’d like to keep you overnight for observation—”

  “No thanks,” I interrupted, yanking the IV out of my arm. “I never did like hospitals much, so if I can sign a release, I’ll be out of your hair.”

  Oh yeah, this doc was not impressed with me. “Of course. I’ll have a nurse bring you the papers.”

  “I’ll tell Little John to fire up the cars so we can get back to the ship,” Landon said, following the doctor out.

  “You sure you don’t want to stay overnight?” Leah asked, her eyes imploring.

  “I’m okay. Trust me, I’ve bruised a couple ribs in my life. I’ll do better at home. I probably need a couple days of rest and I’ll be fine.”

  “More like a couple weeks,” she rebutted.

  “Weeks will kill me. Days are all I’m giving myself. I’ve trained with way worse.”

  “Okay,” she replied, but her
eyes said something else entirely. They shone with disappointment, and that hurt.

  It was an odd revelation considering I’d never given a fuck what anyone thought of me, except maybe Mom. “I’m fine. I promise.”

  “I said okay,” she rebutted softly. “You know the limits of your body way better than I do.”

  Before we could get further into it, the Renegades arrived with a ball-busting wheelchair, ready to take me home.

  Leah stayed with us until they tucked me in like a five-year-old, but some of the light had faded from her eyes, and I hated knowing that I was responsible.

  I hated thinking it wouldn’t be the last time.

  …

  “Rise and shine,” Leah said as I was coming out of my bathroom the next morning. Mixed with the aroma of the coffee she was holding, it was pretty damn perfect.

  “Good morning, gorgeous,” I said, wincing when I leaned over to grab the shirt I dropped on the floor.

  Leah put the coffee on my nightstand and then raced over to help. “You’re not supposed to be up.” She grabbed the shirt but got a little distracted when she stood to hand it over.

  “Leah.”

  “Uh-huh?” she asked, her eyes raking over my chest, examining my tattoos, gnawing on her lower lip.

  Fuck, the way the woman looked at me got me insanely hard. I thought about flexing just for fun, to see if those eyes would dilate any further. My head swam with visions of stripping that long, strappy shirt off her, taking those gorgeous breasts in my mouth, and watching her eyes roll back.

  I wanted to fuck her senseless and make love to her at the same time, which wasn’t a combination I was familiar with. Sex had never been emotional, merely a physical release, a challenge to see how many times I could get a girl to come before she was begging for me.

  But I wanted to worship Leah.

  “Paxton?” she asked, and I blinked. Now I was the distracted one. “Does it hurt?” She motioned to the dark purple bruising along my ribs.

  “It’s not too bad,” I lied. It hurt like a bitch whenever I moved.

  She thrust the shirt at me, her cheeks deliciously pink. I quickly pulled it over my head and shoved my arms through the sleeves, wincing again when the material brushed the scrape that took up a full seven inches on my side.

  “You’re not supposed to be up,” she repeated her earlier comment.

  “Well, I kind of had to use the bathroom, and my mouth tasted like something furry curled up and died in there, so I figured I should do something about that.”

  “Oh. Right. Of course.”

  I walked over to the bed and got in without making ugly “I hurt” faces, but she knew and propped three pillows behind my back. “Better?”

  “Yeah. Thank you.”

  “Sure,” she said, handing me coffee. Then she grabbed her backpack from the doorway where she’d dropped it. “Ready?”

  “For what?” I asked, taking a sip of the nectar of the gods. “And shouldn’t you be gone by now? The schedule said the excursion is leaving soon.”

  She rolled her eyes. “The excursion left an hour ago.”

  My mouth dropped open. “But the Vatican? The Pantheon? What about the lab grade?”

  She walked around to the opposite side of my bed and then—fuck my self-control—the woman got into bed with me. She didn’t say yes yet, so calm down.

  “Remote me,” she ordered, her hand outstretched.

  I passed her the TV remote, and she flipped through until she found what she was looking for, a shitty documentary with nauseatingly bad cinematography.

  “There we go,” she said.

  I glanced between her and the TV. “I’m all for indie flicks, but this feels like the Blair Witch Project.”

  Her smile was sexy as hell. And apparently you have one thing on your mind. “It’s a GoPro with sound, and Landon is wearing it,” she answered. “He’s on our excursion so you don’t lose points. I gave our prof the note from the doc yesterday, and he’s giving you an excuse.”

  That glow in my chest cranked up to nuclear level. This girl was amazing in ways I’d never be worthy of. “What about your grade?”

  She shrugged. “I told him I’d guarantee that you’d watch, so he gave me the points, too.”

  “But this is Rome, and you’re missing it.” For me. Because of me.

  “It’s not going anywhere, is it? I can come back. Besides, logically speaking, if you fail, I miss the rest of my trip, so you can think of this as the payment for the next ports if you want to.”

  I didn’t want to think about it at all. Liking her was one thing. Wanting her was a base, sexual need that I fully understood. But this feeling? I didn’t know what the hell to do with this.

  She leaned over me to get to her coffee, and I stopped her mid-lean, putting my cup down next to hers. “You are incredible,” I told her.

  “Same goes for you, Mr. X Games.”

  I shook my head. “No, what I do is for me. For the fun, the victory, the hits, the records. But you…you’re…incredible,” I said again, my brain too fried to think of another word. “Can I—?”

  “Yes,” she answered before I could finish.

  Then my mouth was on hers, and all words were gone.

  She tasted like her toothpaste and coffee, earth and mint and…mine. My fingers tightened at the base of her skull, woven into the thick strands of her hair. I kissed her with every ounce of skill I had, wanting—needing—this kiss to brand her the same way she was branding me, setting the standard way too high for anyone who tried to come along next.

  No next. Just this one. Just now.

  I slammed the door on those thoughts and concentrated on kissing Leah, on the tiny gasps she made after I kissed her deeply, licked every line inside her mouth. I wanted to mark all of her recesses and curves, make her feel as owned as she made me feel.

  I used my other arm to guide her on top of me, and she straddled my lap, the thin material of her leggings nearly no barrier between my dick and her hot center. She rubbed against me, and a groan rumbled through my chest.

  “Did I hurt you?” she asked, her voice raspy.

  “Fuck, no,” I answered, pulling her back into my kiss.

  She broke away. “Your ribs have to be killing you.”

  I did a mental check. Ribs? No pain. Dick? Throbbing. “You’ll kill me if you stop.”

  She gave me a slow smile and then lowered her mouth tantalizingly slow, first licking my lower lip and then gently tugging it with her teeth. “Leah,” I growled.

  Then she gave me her mouth, and I fucking took it.

  Every stroke of her tongue drove me higher; every time she moaned it shook me to the core. I’d never gotten so wound up from kissing someone before, especially someone who probably wasn’t ready for everything my body begged for. My hands gripped her waist, then her ass, loving the way she filled my hands, the way she moved against me when I squeezed gently.

  She rubbed her breasts against my chest and suddenly I didn’t just want to get my mouth on her, I needed to. I needed to give her something for staying with me today when everyone else usually walked away when I was hurt.

  I needed her to feel as good as she made me feel.

  My hands worked their way up her ribs until my thumbs grazed the underwire of her bra. “Firecracker?” I asked.

  She leaned up, crossed her arms in front of her and removed her top. “Yes.”

  I nearly swallowed my tongue. I knew the shape of her breasts, hell, I’d caught myself looking way too often to be considered a good guy, but fuuuuuck. They were perfection, cupped in pink lace that was an equal mix of innocence and sexy that had my mouth watering.

  I locked gazes with her, and she arched toward me. I closed my mouth over one hardened nipple, running my tongue over the lace. “Pax,” she gasped, her hands flying to my hair.

  That was all it took for my control to unravel. I didn’t look away from her as I unclipped her bra, watching for the first sign of “no,” or even
hesitation. Instead, she slipped the straps down her arms, and the bra joined her shirt on the floor.

  “You are exquisite,” I said even before I glanced. I didn’t need eyes on her to know that she was sheer perfection.

  “Quid pro quo?” she asked, tugging on my shirt.

  I lifted my arms, and she slid it over my head, her breath catching in a way that made me feel like a god.

  “May I?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said enthusiastically. This yes game was fucking awesome.

  Her fingertips skimmed my chest, pausing on my various tats and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “How many do you have?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “Some pieces grew into others, some morphed into different ones.”

  “Do they have meanings?”

  “Some. Others I thought were beautiful, or were representative of what I was feeling at the time.”

  She lingered on the dragon that wrapped around my heart and trailed down my abs. “This is beautiful.”

  “So are you,” I said, counting in my head to keep my hands off her until she was ready. I didn’t know what was holding her back, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to push her.

  “I haven’t…been with anyone in a really long time,” she admitted.

  “Okay. How long?” I gently tipped her chin so she’d meet my eyes. I would sit here all fucking day with our shirts off and not touch her if it meant she unlocked just one of those doors in her head and let me in. I might gnaw off my own hands, but it’d be worth it.

  “A…a while.” Her eyes were wide, tinged with fear and something else I couldn’t name.

  “Okay. Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, knowing there was a reason. There was zero chance she wasn’t being chased by half the population of Dartmouth.

  She shook her head. “No. I don’t know if I can… I don’t want to be a tease, or disappoint you.”

  I sat up higher, ignoring the near-crippling pain in my ribs. Then I kissed her gently, keeping it chaste despite the sheer electricity shooting through me where her breasts pressed against my chest. “You couldn’t tease me because I have no expectations. I’m not a little boy, Leah. I can more than control myself, and if all we do is kiss, then that’s more than I could ask for. Do you understand?”