Wilder

My fingers raked down my face, and I rocked forward, bracing my elbows on my knees.

I’d made her zip-line.

I’d made her parasail.

She’d hung over a hundred feet in the air for twenty-four hours, and I’d made her strap up and face her devil while I laughingly told her it would be okay.

I was a fucking, flaming asshole.

We both had rough freshman years. That’s what she’d told me about her and Rachel. She’d been recovering. God, how bad had it been? I thought back to Bermuda, the way she’d gripped the railing going into the caves. Hell, even boarding the ship, she kept both hands on the banister and barely spoke until we were off the ramp.

No wonder she’d passed out when she fell down the ramp.

And the guy she was with…Newcomb…the way his mom had spoken, they had to have been dating, right? Had she loved him? Did she still love him?

Was I competing with a ghost?

I closed my eyes, but I couldn’t get the crumpled car out of my mind, the pile of mangled metal still smoking like a tiny piece of hell.

I don’t do heights. That’s what she’d said at the zip-line…and I’d forced her hand.

The fight in the market started to make sense—when she told me that she was more acquainted with the concept of death than I ever would be.

How much more could I have possibly fucked up with her?

Just don’t let me fall.

Her words crashed through me, shredding every last defense I’d had against her. She trusted me. Despite whatever nightmare she’d lived through, she’d put her hand in mine and trusted me with her life. That instant connection I’d felt with her, first on the balcony and then when I found her in my suite—it hadn’t been one-sided. She’d felt it, too, enough to trust me less than an hour later.

I was the luckiest and the stupidest bastard on the planet.

“Pax? You ready?” Leah asked, startling me.

I’d been so lost in my thoughts that I hadn’t noticed she’d turned off the shower, let alone had time to get dressed. She stood in the doorway to the bedroom, wearing a tank top and pajama pants, her hair still wet and hanging to frame her breasts.

I stood and walked over to her, cradling her face between my hands. “You look beautiful.”

She snorted. “Whatever makeup I had with me went down the shower drain.”

Her eyes were still wide, the color like the tiger’s-eye bracelet my mother loved, her skin flushed and soft. “You’re all the more beautiful for it.” I meant it. She wasn’t a high-maintenance girl who took an hour to get ready to go to the store.

I kissed her gently, sipping at her lips. “Look, about the marketplace…”

She shook her head slightly, sliding her eyes shut. “Don’t. We both said things. Maybe they were things that needed to be said, but we probably could have been a little nicer about it.”

“Just a little,” I agreed. “I’m going to hop in the shower.”

She nodded, and I stole one more kiss before leaving her.

I washed quickly, steadying my nerves and doing my best to fortify my self-control to spend the night next to Leah and not make a move.

By the time I got to the bed, she was curled on her side, facing away from me. “I sleep in boxers; I hope you don’t mind,” I told her.

When she didn’t respond, I watched the even rise of her rib cage, realizing she’d fallen asleep. Well, that made tonight a shit-ton easier.

I slid between the sheets and faced her, but kept my hands to myself. The king-size monstrosity we slept in left me plenty of room. The moonlight played off her skin, and she looked so damn touchable.

Problem was, I didn’t only want to touch her. Scratch that, I spent more than a decent amount of time fantasizing about her under me, her soft thighs wrapped around my hips, back arching, lips screaming my name as I stroked us both to phenomenal orgasms. Hell, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to look at her without that being on my brain somewhere.

But I wanted to touch her mind, too, to know what made her strong enough to put the harness on. To know what had kept her holding on to that canyon wall long after the car had fallen. And that wasn’t even the scary part.

I wanted to touch her heart, to claim a piece for my own, and that was something I’d never wanted from another woman. I’d never wanted to stake a real claim or to feel something more than affectionate responsibility. But Leah? I wanted to strip away her defenses like she’d obliterated mine. It wasn’t enough to take the piece, to own it by force. No, I wanted it freely given, wanted her to look at me, see me, and then deem me worthy.

Considering I hadn’t asked for anyone’s validation in the last decade, that was fucking terrifying.

She was more complicated than any woman I’d ever been with, or around, for that matter. But if I could win five gold medals at the X Games, I could sure as hell set my mind to winning Leah.

You commit, or you quit, but half-assed gets you hurt. My father’s words slammed through my brain.

When I headed for a stunt, there was a moment where I pushed the throttle, committed to the ramp, threw my body into the flip, and that’s exactly what this felt like as I stared at the curl that stretched across her pillow toward me.

I had to treat our relationship like I did everything else: with full dedication and concentration. As of this moment, I was committed, and I’d never failed at something I worked for.

Eleanor Baxter wouldn’t know what hit her.