Page 93 of Rebel
His expression is intense when he looks up. “Here… I’m River.”
Oh. Damn. Right.
This feels big, like something major he’s sharing with me. He’s glaring at me like he’s waiting for me to make fun of him for allowingme to use his real name on his terms. It’s not like I haven’t done it before, mostly sarcastically.
For the last two days it’s felt like I’m floating out of my body, not being able to pin myself down and get my shit together because losing Colton will kill me. I need an anchor, something, or someone to keep me on the ground.
Him saying that, giving me that part of himself, lets something other than grief and worry flourish in my belly.
I push my chair back, Rebel watches me walk around the table. He doesn’t move when I turn and slot myself between his body and the table, wrapping my arms around his neck. It’s only when I lean down and kiss him he reacts, one large hand moving to my bare thigh.
If he thinks I’m doing this because I need to feel something other than pain, he’s wrong. It’s more than that. His eyes are hooded when I pull back and study his face.
I’m scared for a different reason now.
His sister said he doesn’t have relationships. I’ve seen Katrina pine after him and watched other women give him the eye, they’d gladly share a bed with him. He’s never paid them even a shred of the attention he is giving me now.
His throat works as he swallows, at a loss for words. My voice has gone and disappeared into the back of my throat, too.
Instead of acknowledging what is happening, Rebel takes my hip and drags me closer to his abdomen, his mouth crashing down on mine.
The kiss isn’t hard and devouring. It’s nothing like the kisses we’ve shared before. This isn’t Rebel kissing me. It’s River.
He doesn’t need to pull me closer, I do that myself, pressing my breasts against him, feeling his heartbeat as he slips his hands beneath the Blackhawk shirt and trails them up my spine. His touch is gentle, and for a second, I want to tell him to stop treating me like I’m breakable.
Rebel knows how to do that, it’s the only way we’ve been with one another. This is different, he really is someone else right now. And… I like it.
I like the gentle way he’s treating me. I never thought it was possible to crave a different side of him the way I do to the angry, violent biker.
Suddenly he stands and shifts me until my legs are around his waist, but only long enough to push the plate and cutlery out of the way and set my ass down on the table. He palms both breasts and kisses me again, leaning so I fall backward, bracing myself on my elbows.
I don’t want to lie down, I don’t want to be away from his hands and mouth and his body pressing between my legs.
His lips trail down my neck, sucking where my pulse is beating and he drags the shorts he loaned me over my hips. Then he does something entirely Rebel like, grabs the hem of the shirt and rips it all the way up to the neck, except he can't rip it all the way. He stops and looks down, the fabric is too thick.
My breasts are bare, but he’s eyeing the collar of the shirt, and a wicked grin spreads over his lips.
“It’s indestructible,” he smirks.
“Get me a knife and it won’t be.”
“No,” he steps back enough so he can pull the top over my head. “Not this time.”
When his lips make contact with my nipple, I gasp and pull the back of his head closer.
It’s jarring to think of him as two different beings, but it’s River who lightly presses his palm between my breasts and uses gentle pressure to lay me down flat. His lips trail lower, his tongue circling my belly button.
I’m so desperate for him, for something to ease the ache inside that my hips undulate and I wrap my thighs around his to give me leverage. In response, River presses my thighs, holding my legs wide.
“I don’t think this is fair,” I murmur, looking at his shirt.
He tugs it over his head and tosses it on the floor, then drags his sweatpants down. Initially, my eyes are locked on his rock-hard cock until the bandage on his arm catches my attention. I immediately sit up and grab his wrist.
“What is this?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“You’re hurt.”
