Wes stood at the center of the room, the neoprene suit pulled off his shoulders, hanging low on his hips. She stopped short and pressed an open hand over her heart for the second time in fifteen minutes.
Her fantasies hadn’t come close to the real deal, standing only six feet away. His stormy gray-blue eyes shone with residual excitement from that crazy-ass stunt. With his hands planted at his hips, his muscled pecs and biceps glistened with sweat. The fine line of golden hair low on his abdomen disappeared between his belly button and the waistband of whatever he wore beneath the neoprene.
“Praise the gods of Olympus,” she murmured, a little short of breath.
He was freaking carved.
And he had more ink than the tire treads circling his left bicep and the stylized checkered flag flowing down his right calf. He had something covering his right shoulder too. She narrowed her eyes at the image, taking in the detail, the definition of shadow, its sheer artistic beauty.
“Is that a Terminator tat?” she asked.
“Not exactly, but the same principle.” Wes’s gaze darted to his shoulder. “Like it?”
“What’s a Terminator tat?” Lexi asked from where she stood behind Wes, fitting some type of harness to his hips.
These men had more toys and rigging and gear than God.
“It’s a 3-D rendition,” Troy said from where he’d sprawled his big body on a lounge chair. “A cutaway view of the skin and what’s beneath. But his isn’t a real Terminator tat.”
“Watch it, dude,” Wes said. “It’s nicer than the one you’ve got on your ass.”
“It’s not on my ass, dumb shit. It’s on my hip. And it’s way better than yours.” He pushed to his feet and brought his hands to the button of his jeans. “Let’s let the ladies decide.”
“Troy.” Jax’s voice boomed up the steps and into the trailer. “Keep your goddamned pants on for a change.”
“Hey,” Rachel yelled back. “Mind your own business out there. I want to see.”
Keaton and Duke burst out laughing. Wes chuckled. Rubi couldn’t even manage a smirk, and the fact that she couldn’t shake off this funk only deepened her anxiety.
“We can work out a private showing, Rach,” Troy said, his smoldering black eyes teasing her.
“You know the rules,” Jax called. “Mess with my secretary, I’ll mess with you.”
“And if he doesn’t,” Lexi added, “I will. Rachel keeps Jax sane, which keeps me sane.”
“When Daddy’s happy,” Keaton said, “everyone’s happy.”
“Losers—all of you,” Troy shouted loud enough to make sure Jax heard where he stood at the base of the stairs talking with someone Rubi didn’t know, then dropped back into the chair. “A real Terminator tat, like mine, replaces muscles with gears and gadgets, cyborg-like.”
Rubi didn’t care about Troy’s tattoo. She was inspecting Wes’s. The ink rounded his right shoulder, the outline a double-pivoting bike chain with so much detail and shadow, she swore she could reach out and touch it. Parts of the chain fell away, broken, where a speeding motorcycle ripped from Wes’s body, complete with torn skin and shattered chain links.
“It’s gorgeous,” Rubi said, subdued, but finally had a thought that made her smile. “I should get one showing a motherboard underneath.”
“Oh yeah.” Wes grinned. “That would be so cool. I’ll take you to the guy who did mine if you want. He’s amazing.”
Lexi circled Wes, then lowered to her knees in front of him, tightening Velcro straps around Wes’s hips and thighs. Rubi had seen her friend do this hundreds of times over the years while fitting her couture wedding gowns to clients or measuring for alterations. And over the last two months since she’d been seeing Jax, Lexi had taken on the new role for the Renegades as a seamstress to anything ripped, a designer to any new harness or bodysuit, even occasionally a costume or two.
And while Lexi’s position on her knees in front of Wes was the perfect material for one of Rubi’s typically suggestive, teasing comments, she wasn’t in the mood. She really wanted to get out of this trailer, away from the handsome man who unnerved her—her, a woman rarely ruffled by anything.
She crossed her arms and leaned into one hip. “Almost done there, Lex? I’m ready for lunch.”
Troy reached into the minifridge beside the sofa and popped the top on a Rockstar. “Since when are you so eager to get away from us?”
“You’re not all that,” Rubi teased, “despite what your bed bunnies tell you.”
Keaton whistled through his teeth, the sound imitating a diving plane, then simulated the sound of an explosion. “Crash…and…burn.”
Troy shot Keaton a brotherly glare.
“Actually,” Lexi said, “I want to get a better look at the fit in the back, but the straps keep slipping. Can you come hold these hinges so I can get a better look?”
An absurd chuckle floated from her throat. Talk about sending mixed messages. “Uh, I don’t think so.”
“What’s the problem?” Wes challenged with the rise of one golden brow. “Afraid you might like it?”
Afraid was right—that she’d like it. That he’d like it. That the situation would lead them both down the wrong path. “Don’t goad me, Lawson.”
“Rubi,” Lexi said, “we’re not getting out of here until this is done. Wes is holding the straps.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Troy…?”
Troy cut her off. “No way, no how am I getting on my knees for Lawson. I’m gonna settle in for the show. Come on, Rubi. We ain’t got all day here.”
“Give it up, Troy,” Wes said, staring into Rubi’s eyes. “She’s backing down.”
“You little troublemaker,” Rubi said.
“Come on, Rubi,” Lexi rounded behind Wes again. “Five minutes, tops.”
Jesus, this was ridiculous. She was wasting more time not doing it than just getting it over with. “Fine.”
She stepped forward, holding Wes’s taunting gaze. “Don’t get any ideas, Lawson. This doesn’t change anything I said earlier.”
His eyes narrowed, and his grin took on an edge. “I bet you say that to all the guys.”
“Exactly.” Rubi let the heat she used at the club slide into her grin. Maybe showing him a little more of her dark side would help him realize she wasn’t one of the sweet little playmates he favored. “I’m glad we understand each other.”
In a purposely bold don’t-play-with-fire move, she pressed both hands flat against his bare chest. His skin was damp and warm and soft, the sprinkle of golden chest hair crisp, the muscle beneath hard and radiating heat. A stream of liquid fire rolled through her body. His ni**les tightened at her touch, stirring the craving she’d been restraining for weeks. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, wishing she could stroke it across the deep brown nub. He’d taste salty now. And so very male, she had no doubt.
Even at five-nine and wearing three-inch heels, she had to tilt her head to look into his eyes. His gaze was heavy-lidded, but sharp, serious and scorching. Those full lips had lost their grin and his jaw ticked with pent up energy. There was definitely a more intense side to this easygoing country boy, born and raised in the heartland—one that coaxed her interest and ramped her desire.
But she held her emotional ground and pushed through the chore with all her shields firmly in place.
Balancing herself with pressure against his chest, Rubi slowly lowered. Keeping her gaze pinned to his, sending the silent message that her will was just as strong as his, her hands slid down the hard wet muscle. God, he was utterly delicious.
Curling her fingers into the neoprene at his waist, she used his body to steady herself and rocked to her knees.
Troy, Keaton, and Duke egged them on with whistles and a husky, “That’s what I’m talking about,” “Looking good there,” and “Mmm-mmm, getting hot in here” encouragement. Rubi let it all fade into the background.
Wes’s gaze had transitioned into something primal. Something hungry. Predatory. Rubi let herself imagine what he’d do to her now if they were alone. How he’d slide his big hands into her hair, guide her mouth to his cock, and draw her forward until he was buried to her throat. A telltale tickle signaled growing moisture between her thighs.
Lexi grabbed Rubi’s hands, moving them to a pair of raised round components on the harness at either side of Wes’s hips. “Hold these right there.”
“Will do.”
Wes let a hand fall to his side. He traced the tip of one finger across her forehead and lifted a lock of hair, setting it aside. The move was so intimate, tension balled in her stomach.
“You look good right there, Russo.” His voice, low and thick, rolled over her skin like a warm breeze. “Really good.”
He traced a tingling path down her cheek and across her jaw. Then his hand opened, and his thumb swept the angle of her cheekbone. A decadent sensation made it hard to keep her eyes open.
Footsteps sounded on the trailer’s stairs. “Are we ready for lunch?”
Jax’s question, clearly asked before he took in the scene, made Rubi grin.
Wes pressed his thumb against the center of her lower lip, dragging her mouth open a touch. “Just say the word…”
And I’ll be your lunch.
He didn’t need to say the words for her to know what he was thinking. What they were both thinking.
“Russo.” The disbelief in Jax’s voice finally drew Rubi’s gaze. “What the hell are you doing?”
“A favor for Lexi.”
“Okay,” Lexi said. “You can get up, Rubi.”
“Thank you,” she said with an infusion of thank God.
Wes leaned down and slid his hands up her arms. With a firm grip on her biceps, he lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered, “Tonight I’ll be dreaming about finishing what we started here.”
So would she. But she kept that to herself.
Rubi pushed against his chest and—reluctantly—eased herself from his grip.
Lexi glanced at Jax and gestured toward Wes. “What do you think?”
Jax leaned back with that easy, negligent stance, dark brows pulled as his gaze inspected the harness.
“Yeah.” He moved to Lexi’s side and swung an arm around her shoulders, then reached down to fit the fingers of his other hand into the space between a circular contraption and Wes’s hip. “That’s a much better fit.”
Wes’s phone double-chimed in his pocket, but his hands were busy fitting and refitting the Velcro strap holding the apparatus low on his waist.
“You ass**le,” Jax said with the same tone he’d used with Rubi over her attire. “You know you shouldn’t have your phone on you while you’re running stunts.”
“Yeah, yeah.” A new intensity pulled Wes’s forehead and mouth into a frown. He lifted one knee, and the straps around his thighs drew the metal strips along with the movement, pivoting at the hip joints. Then he lifted the other, crouched slowly, straightened. “I hope this thing works.”
He hoped? The fact that he would simply hope a piece of safety gear would work shot the heat of anger along her spine. But Rubi kept her mouth shut. She certainly wouldn’t have nagged Troy or Keaton or Duke about their equipment. Or even Jax. And she wouldn’t start with Wes.
“It will. It’s a really nice rig.”
“We’ll see.” Wes turned away and ripped off all the straps, dragging the thing off.
His phone chimed again. He pulled it from a pocket beneath the neoprene and became engrossed in a message.
Jax stepped behind Lexi, wrapped his arms around her, and lowered his chin to her shoulder. Those blue-green beauties met Rubi’s and turned innocent—which meant he was about to pull something.
“Where are you taking us for lunch?” he asked, hopeful.
“Us? Who said you could come?”
Before Jax answered, Rubi glanced at Lexi, who offered a lopsided grin.
Rubi’s shoulders sagged. But she forced a smile and more enthusiasm than she felt. “Of course. You’re a package deal now, right?”
Jax straightened, his gaze traveling to Wes, who was now leaning against a free desk, feet crossed at the ankles, blond head bent, his thumbs busily texting. Jax darted a questioning look toward Rubi. Over the last couple of months, they’d all developed the ability to speak without talking, and now he was silently asking if he could invite Wes along.
Rubi lifted a shoulder. What was she supposed to do? Say no when they’d been doing everything together for two months?
Jax’s phone chimed, and he pulled it from his jeans’ pocket. His gaze lifted to the other Renegades. “They’re ready for you on set.”
Troy, Keaton, and Duke rose from their seats and grabbed water bottles from the fridge before exiting the trailer.
When they were gone, Jax said, “Wes, come to lunch with us. Let Rubi distract you for a while.”
He glanced up from his phone, his eyes glazed over in concern. “I’m filthy. You guys go ahead.”
His disinterest swept a cool breeze of hope through Rubi. Maybe he wasn’t as into her as he’d seemed. Maybe he’d been joking earlier. Her mind shot back to the intensity in his eyes. No, he hadn’t been joking.
“The Crossroads has a patio,” Jax said. “Okay for you girls?”
Not what Rubi had in mind at all, but… “Sure.”