Wilder (The Renegades) by Rebecca Yarros Page A

wrapping his arms around me.
    For a second, I almost gave in and let him hold me. It felt so good, his heartbeat so steady…so alive.
    No. I had not come this far to suddenly become one of those girls who needed a guy to prop her up. Using both hands, I shoved off his chest, breaking his hold on me. “You can’t fix something you don’t understand. I’m not one of your stunts, Pax. I’m not your project.” I said it as gently as I could without wavering.
    His shoulders fell, and his tongue swiped across his lower lip. “You know, you’re right.” He grasped the back of his neck. “This is totally up to you, but I at least hope you’ll stay and watch. I want to take you somewhere after, if you’ll trust me not to force you into something you don’t want.”
    I rubbed my upper arms, concentrating on the friction to force my neat little compartmentalized walls back up. “I can leave if I want?”
    He cupped my face, those blue eyes of his wide and earnest. “Of course. I’ll have someone take you back to the beach if you want. I meant it, I won’t force you into anything ever again. Not like I did with the zip-line, and I won’t ambush you again. It was a bad choice on my part, but I’m glad we’re having this conversation.”
    His hand was warm on my cheek, thrumming with life, scented with sand and ocean and Paxton.
    Maybe I couldn’t get onto one of those things and catapult myself into the air, but I could watch him do what he loved. “Okay,” I said quietly.
    His smile was soft and mine followed. “Thank you.”
    We stood there for a moment, absorbed in each other, something intangible passing between us. My heart sparked to life, reminding me that I wasn’t just a patient, a student, a daughter, a tutor—I was a woman, who was stupidly, ridiculously, unavoidably attracted to the man standing in front of me.
    Shit.
    Was I even allowed to feel that? It had been two years. Surely he wouldn’t have wanted—
    A knock sounded on the door, saving me from doing something entirely foolish. Like finding out if Paxton’s lips are as soft as they look.
    “Hey, Wilder?” Zoe’s voice slapped some sense into me, and I stepped out of Paxton’s reach.
    “Zoe,” he said, his tone resigned as I retreated.
    “If she doesn’t want to go, I’m suited up and ready,” she sang.
    “Noted.” His eyebrows rose in my direction.
    I shook my head, unable to fathom going out there, putting myself in a position to fall. I’d probably lock up the minute I went ten feet in the air, and then what the hell would I do. “I can’t.”
    “Okay,” he said softly. “Zoe, we need a tenth, anyway, so go wave Landon over and have him get you to a Flyboard.”
    Her squeal grated on every exposed nerve—and there were a lot of them right now—but I managed a nod of my head. “Good choice.”
    He swallowed. “Yeah, well, your wet suit is hanging there in the closet. You can change here. You are down with swimming, right?”
    “Yeah, of course.” Water I could handle. Water you could swim in, control your movements, propel yourself up. Air was the traitorous bitch that let you go without a moment of consideration.
    “I’ll see you up there,” he said, and left.
    I opened the closet to see the wet suit Paxton had left for me. Maybe if I got into the water quickly he wouldn’t see—
    Whoa.
    My heart jumped sweetly, and my smile was immediate. He’d gotten me a full-length wet suit. Either it was a stroke of luck…or he actually paid attention to me—noticed that I only wore pants.
    Either way, it meant I could swim without an ounce of self-consciousness.
    About ten minutes later, I’d wiggled into the wet suit and headed up to the deck. “I told him that the water was eighty degrees, and you wouldn’t need a wet suit to swim, but he insisted,” Brooke said as she zipped me up.
    “Did he say why?”
    “He said if you’re so modest that he’s never seen you in a pair of shorts, he doubted you’d