Rebel (23 page)

The orgasm exploded at the center of his hips, raced up his spine and flashed through his chest. His balls squeezed, his cock surged, his ass clenched, driving him forward, and Wes gushed into the hot, dark, soft, succulent, tight recesses of her mouth.

Pleasure--rich, thrilling, decadent--slammed through him in wave after wave of heat. “Fuck, fuck,
fuck
.”

He couldn’t keep his voice down. Couldn’t control the sounds he made. His brain was gone, and Wes struggled to get a sliver of it back, but it kept slipping away, and in the end, he gave himself over to the ravage of his orgasm. One that lasted longer and reached deeper, than the one in the shower the night before.

He didn’t remember the moment his knees gave, but he slid to the floor, pulling from Rubi’s mouth at the same time. He landed on his ass, panting. “Holy… Shit…” He dropped his head against the door, his eyes falling closed. He couldn’t do more than grope for Rubi’s hand and curl his fingers around it. “Rubi…Christ…”

His body felt as if it had been infused with champagne, every cell fizzing.

He cracked his lids, glanced over her satisfied grin. Her tongue lazed over her bottom lip.

“You taste as good as I imagined,” she said, reaching forward to run her fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. “And you’re so fucking sexy coming in my mouth.”

“You don’t have to say that.” He forced his other hand up and ran the back of his finger against her cheek. “Even without it, that would have been the best I’ve ever had. With, it was…un-fucking-believable.”

She closed her hand around his and pulled it low on her body. “Want to feel how much I love sucking you?”

Her hand pushed his beneath the waistband of her shorts and between her legs. She stroked his fingers against her panties.

She was drenched, right through the silk. His mind stirred back to life and he eased the band of her panties aside to touch deeper. Her body licked his fingertips, opened to take them in, then closed snuggly around them.

“You’re…
wicked
,” Wes managed to whisper. “And I
love
it.”

Rubi’s lids went heavy, and her hand tightened over his. “Make me come.”

“Oh, yeah.” He shifted with the intent of pushing her to her back and taking all that deliciousness in his mouth. “Fuck yeah.”

Before he could even get her button undone, footsteps sounded on the steps again, followed by a purposeful knock, and Rachel’s annoyed voice. “All right you two. I know you’re in there. I have witnesses. Pull up your pants and let me in. Some of us have work to do.”

Wes groaned in disappointment. He reluctantly pulled his hand from between her legs. Rubi leaned forward and kissed him, whispering, “Later.”

His heart flipped. His chest tightened.
Later
was promising.

Another knock.

“Hold the fuck on, Rachel,” Wes said. “My zipper’s stuck.”

Rubi and Rachel burst out laughing at the same time. Wes tucked himself away, fastened up, and pushed to his feet. Blood rushed to his head, and he swayed, grabbing the doorknob for balance. Rubi’s laugh rose in pitch, more like a giggle. Something he’d never imagined coming out of her.

She moved to the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of water as Wes opened the door. Little sweet Rachel barged past him, stopped in the middle of the room, and took a deep breath. “God, I love the smell of sex. Probably because I don’t get any.”

A laugh rolled out of Wes. She was just messing with them.

She waved dismissively to him. “Dirty deed is done, go away now.”

Wes’s face heated, and he rubbed it with both hands, groaning. “Rachel—”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Jax.” She glanced at him over the rim of her glasses. “This time.”

“Fies-tay,” Rubi intoned playfully, handing Wes one of the bottles and uncapping her own to take a deep drink, reminding him of what she’d just done to him. Those after-awesome-sex sizzles kicked up again. “That’s our Rachel.”

“Not, evidently, as feisty as you,” she said, shooting a look at Rubi. “If I were, I might get laid once in a while.”

Rubi laughed easily, as if getting caught didn’t bother her in the least…but then he realized who he was applying that social taboo to and mentally rolled his eyes at himself. She strolled to Rachel’s desk, reached over, and pulled the clip from the other girl’s hair. A mass of chestnut waves fell around her pixie face, transforming Rachel from cute to…double-take pretty.

“Rubi!” Rachel half laughed, half cried, grabbing for the clip.

“Now
that’s
my little grasshopper.” Rubi stood back, grinning. “Leave all that gorgeous hair down a little more often around here, and I bet you lunch, you get asked out twice as often. Might even get some.”

Wes only half listened to them. Relief and pleasure streamed through his body. He wanted a nap. Curled up with Rubi.

She turned, picked up the rig from the other desk, and faced him. “Now…let’s discuss your
other
awesome rig.”

His elation slowly drained. He watched Rubi pick up the rig from the corner desk, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and stopped beside her.

“So what’s the urgency?” she asked, her gaze appraising the rig with keen interest.

His gut tensed. He wasn’t worried about her being upset that he was leaving, but he did worry her newfound interest in taking that next step in their relationship could evaporate in his absence.

He cleared his throat and explained Bolton’s problems and the problems that created for Renegades and filming.

“So, I’m going to have time on my hands until Bolton gets out of rehab.” A fist curled around his gut. “If I’m going to see Wyatt and bring him the rig, I’m going to have to go in the next couple of days.”

Rubi lowered the rig so fast, it hit the desk with a
crack
. Her head turned sharply toward Wes, and the look in her eyes made that fist in his gut turn to ice.

“You’re leaving?” Her voice wavered between surprise and frustration. But it was the edge of vulnerability that sliced through him. “Just like that?”

“She grew up with her father leaving her at the drop of a hat.”
Lexi’s words from the other night filled his head, and his chest vibrated with guilt.

He darted a look at Rachel and saw that she was on the phone.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he told Rubi softly. “I just found out in the last ten minutes.”

She returned her gaze to the rig, all the openness and lightness in her expression now tight and dark. “Well then…” She turned, rig in hand, and started toward the door. “I’d better get going on this.”

Fourteen

Rubi paced her living room, arms crossed, the long skirt matching her bikini brushing her calves. The conference call with NSA droned in her ear through the headset, but her mind was on the rig lying on her coffee table. A cord snaked between her computer and the motherboard she’d added to the unit.

Restless, she wandered around the back of the sofa and glanced at the screen. Still downloading. Once all the data she’d collected loaded, she could test the program.

She’d been angsty since Wes told her the filming schedule with Renegades had changed and that he was going to head home now instead of in a few weeks. He was leaving tomorrow.
Tomorrow
. And, damn, didn’t that just put a chink in her plans to try to build something with him? The fact that he was up and leaving after she’d taken that jump just…really tweaked her psyche.

Her fears weren’t rational, she knew. He traveled all the time. Or at least he had before they’d nailed this Bond contract. But that wouldn’t last forever. If she wanted to be with him, she was going to have to get used to him traveling, schedule changes, upheavals in schedules. She knew it happened with Jax. Even with the Bond film, the Renegades jumped between jobs all over the freaking globe. The only reason Wes was grounded in LA right now was because of the scenes he was working with Bolton.

She hadn’t even realized it would be a problem until he’d sprung it on her this morning, and a familiar dark current of fear coursed through her chest. The same one she’d had too often throughout her childhood.

Double-checking the call—and the exhilarating project-budget discussion—was on mute, she reminded herself, “This isn’t the same. It’s no big deal.”

But the jumping in her chest wasn’t helping her convince herself of that. Deeply buried fears she hadn’t fully learned to manage urged her to pull back. Warned her to shield herself from the hurt of having him walk out of her life, never sure when he’d come back. Or
if
he’d come back.

“He’s not your father.” She repeated the words, but they weren’t sinking in. Probably because they didn’t make any sense. “Goddammit, get your shit together, Rubi.”

She’d been realigning her brain all damn day, and like a rubber band, it just kept snapping back to old patterns of fear.

Glancing toward the kitchen, she could just make out Rodie’s tail peeking out from behind the island, where he lay on the floor at the glass sliding doors. Another pinch of worry tightened her chest. He’d been there all day, head on his paws, staring out the door, instead of curled on the sofa beside her. If this malaise lasted until morning, she’d have to take him to the vet.

Her cell, sitting on the coffee table next to the rig, vibrated. She picked it up, tapped out of the call screen—wishing she could tap out of the call altogether—and found a text from Wes.

WES: I’ve got a big, tasty piece of meat grilling for you.

A small laugh popped out of her throat. Big and tasty was right. She would not let this sudden trip ruffle her.
I will not.

RUBI: I could go for leftovers. Brunch was a-maz-ing.

WES: Girl, you’re making me hard again.

RUBI: Just the way I like you. I’m stuck on an NSA conference call.

She glanced at the clock on her computer screen. It was way too freaking late for business. Damned overseas contractors.

She told herself that was where her annoyance stemmed from, but she was irritated by several things aside from the circling, repetitive statements in her ear. She had knots in her neck from working on the rig’s programming for eight straight freaking hours. She’d spent a sleepless night reliving her encounter with Wes, her thoughts flipping between “right” and “wrong.” And now this trip…

WES: I didn’t know our government actually worked.

RUBI: They don’t. They spend all their time talking about working.

WES: You’re bringing Rodie, right? I picked up a Frisbee for him today.

Her mouth quirked.

RUBI: Nice. Thank you. But, no, I’m not bringing him. He doesn’t play well with other people. Never warmed up to Lexi or Jax.

WES: He’s just got to get out more, interact. He’s as sweet as his mama.

Rubi sighed and closed her eyes. A gooey sensation spread through her chest, followed quickly by a flash of uncomfortable heat.

“Learned behavior,” she told herself. “You can break this pattern.”

She wandered into the kitchen to stand by Rodie and stare out at the ocean. The repetitive roll of waves layered her stress with a blanket of relief. Consistent. Ever present. Powerful. Protective. The ocean seemed to wrap her in a certainty of forever, helping with her jumpy nerves.

She glanced down at Rodie for the hundredth time today. His eyes were open, scanning every movement on the beach. She crouched beside him and stroked him, head to tail. “How are you doing, baby?”

He lifted his head, wagged his tail, and licked her face. But then immediately resumed his sad position. This just wasn’t like him. He was an impossibly happy dog. Maybe she should call the vet. Then she thought of Wes and his experience with animals.

RUBI: I’m worried he might be sick. Do you know how to tell?

WES: I’m already halfway to your place, coming to check up on you. I’ll take a look at him.

Her heart tripped at the news that he was close. An immediate bite of irritation followed. She didn’t want these unsettling feelings. These little unexpected zings of electricity every time she thought of him were beyond annoying.