Rebel Roused (Untamed #5) (6 page)

“Why would I need something new? I already have everything I could wish for.”

The house smelled of his faint, woodsy cologne. It even sighed and groaned every so often as if it, too, was missing him. Hell, his spirit even bloomed in the now-withered and frost-covered vegetable patch he kept in his tiny yard.

But, most of all, Rex’s presence filled his studio. I hadn’t been able to even pick up my own brushes since he’d died, and the thought of packing his away killed me. It took me the full week to actually work up the strength to go in there. Ree was my rock, diligently cleaning the room and protecting as many canvases as she could from dust, but in the end I knew I wouldn’t be at peace until I faced the room head-on.

“This is my sacred space, Dare. When you invite someone into your studio, you invite them into your life.”

My chest constricted the moment I crossed the threshold, my throat closing around the sob that threatened to escape. I walked quietly around the perimeter of the room, afraid to disturb anything. Sunshine filtered through a stained glass piece hanging in one of his windows, coating the hardwood floor in color.

“Don’t be afraid of color. That’s like being afraid of life! How can anyone be afraid of something so beautiful, so perfect?”

The very first day I’d snuck into the studio through the open back door, I’d been six years old. My dad had been angry. And high. I’d sought refuge from his wrath at Rex’s. Having slipped inside unnoticed, I was struck by the vibrant hues pulsing through the room. It was as if even the air was saturated with every shade, and I breathed it in like I’d been holding my breath all my life.

Color was everywhere. On the walls, on the dusty desk by the window, on big, white canvases. When Rex found me covered in paint and blasting his paintbrushes off into space, he hadn’t gotten angry like my father would have.

No, Rex had laughed. And invited me to stay.

In his studio, and in his life.

He’d held out a paintbrush and nodded toward his canvas. “You wanna give it a try? Here. Help me finish off this wing.”

My eyes widened. “You want ME to work on YOUR picture? What if I make a mistake?”

He shot me a big, lopsided grin. “Let’s hope you do. Mistakes are the best way to learn.”

With a shaky hand, I dipped my brush in paint and carefully added some bright red to the golden wing. It took a few slow strokes, but it made me feel better. Made me forget about my dad and that new bruise under my mom’s eye.

Rex smiled wide as he watched me work. The creature was starting to look like it was burning with light and power. I loved it.

“This dragon is going to look super cool when I’m done with it.”

He laughed. “It’s a phoenix,” he’d said. “The strongest, most majestic creature.”

“What? No. Everyone knows that dragons are the most powerful things in the world!” I couldn’t believe he didn’t know that. “They breathe fire and can kill everyone. That’s why my dad has a tattoo of a dragon on his back.”

Rex opened his mouth, but then quickly pressed his lips together. “Real power isn’t measured by the fire you breathe nor the pile of ashes you leave behind, Dare,” he said slowly. “It’s about the hope you inspire.”

Rex had inspired hope in me. Hope that my life could be better, that I could do better, that I could change my path, be proud of who I was and what I did. Rex
was
hope. The one thing I’d needed more than anything else back then.

Rex had been the first to call me Dare. And it stuck from day one. I left Daren behind, in so many ways, after I met him.

“FUCK!” I smashed my fist into the table now, crushing tubes of paint the way the pain in the middle of my chest was crushing me. The sticky substance splattered everywhere. My other fist followed. Hard. “Fuck, fuck,
fuck
!”

I didn’t care that I was spilling paint that would never be used again or that my knuckles hurt like shit. I let loose all the rage I’d been bottling up for weeks as I was overwhelmed by Rex’s loss.

Punch.

Punch.

Punch.

I didn’t stop pounding. Not even when my hands were stinging and covered in a dark brown mess. Not even when my knuckles were raw and red. Not even when the tears came or when my knees buckled and I crashed to the floor.

Still, I went on punching.

My thighs. The floor.

Eventually the rage ebbed, and I was left with this hollow, numb feeling inside.

But nothing took away the pain.

nine

O
h, god. Walking into Rex’s studio, I saw him. Really, truly saw him.

All paint and pain and passion.

It shattered me. I felt Dare’s agony to the very core of my being, pulsing painfully hard with every moment Rex was gone. I didn’t say a word as I rushed across the room and wrapped myself around him, wishing I could somehow funnel the pain away.

His voice sounded soaked with tears. “Fuck…this hurts, Ree. I can’t…”

“I know, baby.” I murmured into his hair. “I know.”

Color had fully claimed him, streaking his face, splattering his jeans, covering his hands and arms. Even his disheveled hair was tipped with bright tones as if he’d tugged at the strands.

He was color—a living, breathing piece of artwork.

But the look he was giving me was filled with only darkness.

I gripped his face, forcing him to look at me, and pressed my lips against his. “Don’t let him win, Dare. We can’t let him win. Rex wouldn’t want that.”

“Rex is dead.” He fisted my sweater so tightly the hem lifted off my stomach, exposing the still healing scar. “And there’s nothing I can do to bring him back.” His shoulders shook. His entire body was quaking against mine as he wrapped his arms around me. “Why does it have to hurt so fucking much?”

“Because you loved him so much.” A lump formed in my throat, and I hugged his head to my chest, pressing kisses against his forehead. “It hurts because you loved him.”

My fingers wove through his hair, and I kept kissing him, willing my touch to relieve his pain, to bring light back into his darkness. His breathing calmed and changed as I covered his face with kisses, and when my lips found his again, his fingers dug into my waist, pulling me closer. His lips met mine, hard and hungry, leaving me breathless as his darkness morphed into intense need.

Dare’s tongue delved inside me, greedy and demanding, possessing my mouth almost like he was staking his claim all over again. The kiss was the lovechild of lust and passion, want and need. It burned through me, dispersing a wildfire of tremors down my body, igniting sensations that had been dormant for far too long.

For the past month, as I recovered from my injuries, things between the two of us had been very…
gentle
. Dare had been so intent on not causing me any more pain, he’d limited himself to sweet kisses and soft embraces.

But this moment was the exact opposite of that. It was fiery and hot. Unrelenting. Raw. Pulsing with life. Dare’s desire vibrated through me, mingling with my own.

I wanted more. Closer. Harder.

I was ready, and I needed him as much as he needed me.

His name was a string of pleas on my lips, and he drank every one of them, lapping up my words with his tongue, giving me exactly what I wanted.

Hands brushing through my hair, he tugged gently on the locks before gliding his fingers over my back to my sides. He held on tight and pulled me onto his lap, shifting my peasant skirt up so he could lock my legs around his waist, bringing me even closer into his warmth, his lips never leaving my body.

Kissing down my neck, he slipped one hand under my sweater and glided his palm over my stomach to cup my breast, caressing my nipple over the fabric of my bra.

“I love you so fucking much,” he said into my lips, the deep, husky words making me tremor with longing. Tugging the sweater over my head, he blazed a trail of kisses down my neck and collarbone. “And, god, I’ve missed you.” He unclasped my bra and caressed every inch of my breast with his mouth, teasing my nipples to tight peaks with his tongue and teeth.

Arching my back, I pushed against him and moaned for more.

Always more when it came to Dare.

“I get so lost in you.” My words were low and raspy.

“God, Ree.” He was panting hard, his chest heaving, his breath hot against my ear as he whispered, “I want to spend the rest of my life losing myself in you. Just like this.”

He kissed every inch of my breasts and stomach, nibbled on my collarbone. His lips were setting off fireworks in places I had no idea could even feel this kind of thrill from a simple touch.

But this wasn’t just a simple touch from any guy.

This was Dare.

Unrestrained. Unbridled. Untamed.

The other half of my heart. My always and forever.

I slid my fingers along the waistband of his jeans, unbuttoning them, ripping his zipper down. Before I could take him in my hands, though, he trapped my wrist.

“Not here.” He nodded at a row of Rex’s paintings, placing his arms under me and pulling us up to a standing position. “The apartment. Upstairs.”

We somehow made it up the steep stairs to my—and Dare’s—old place without detangling our limbs or lips. Crashing into walls, bumping against furniture, we kissed our way to the bedroom.

He released me and peeled off his shirt. With his hands above his head, his muscles tightened, cutting across his skin so sharply he looked dangerous to the touch. But I didn’t hesitate in reaching out and trailing my fingers across his firm abs. I loved the feel of his body—the combination of hard muscle and soft skin always made me weak in the knees.

And wet. A pulse grew between my thighs as I touched him, the anticipation of feeling him moving inside me fueling it even further. Every single part of me was desperate to feel him pressed against my body. When I delved lower, tracing the sharp muscles that dipped into his jeans, he groaned and pressed himself against my hand.

“You’re covered in paint.” I laughed, my lips against his chest, tasting him, savoring him.

Dare lowered his mouth to my ear. “Then how about a nice, hot, dirty shower?”

“A
dirty
shower?” My cheeks were flushed with arousal, my lips puffy.

“Oh, yes. A filthy one,” he murmured, then claimed my lips again, his mouth and tongue inspiring all sorts of naughty thoughts to flit through my mind. “I need you so fucking bad.” The edge in his voice made me shudder in anticipation. “Right now, right here.”

Losing myself in the heated kiss, I grabbed his hand and brought it down between my legs to show him how much I needed him too.

Almost a month without naked Dare made for a very impatient, horny Ree.

His fingers slid inside my panties, grazing my throb, making me moan into his mouth as they slipped inside.

“Jesus, Ree.” He breathed the words, and picked me up, carrying me into the bathroom.

The tiles he set me down on were cold against my feet, but I barely noticed. My entire body was ablaze with his touch.

He turned on the shower and looked back at me, the sweetest, naughtiest grin igniting his sharp features. One that went both to my wild, hammering heart and other, more tingly parts that were clamoring for attention.

My skirt and underwear were down my legs and off my body within seconds. Dare’s jeans followed. He adjusted the water temperature and pulled me into the shower with him.

The hot water made his skin slick and smooth, and my hands couldn’t get enough of him. I wanted to touch him everywhere, feel every inch of his body against mine.

“Let me wash you,” he said, his hands already lathering up with the soap I’d left behind all those weeks ago.

I arched an eyebrow. “I thought this was supposed to be a dirty shower.”

“Oh, it will be. But want I to get my hands on you first. I want to feel all of you, wet and slippery like this. I want to tease you before making you beg for the dirty.”

Oh, god. Yes, please.

His hands felt so good as they slid up my arms, over my shoulders and breasts, trailing down my stomach, careful to avoid my wound. I couldn’t stifle my moans when he worked his way lower, slipping his fingers between my legs, teasing my opening with a preview of what was to come. He kissed my neck, sucking on my wild pulse, one thumb circling my clit as his other hand went back up to my breast to lightly pinch my nipple.

“You have to let me have a turn,” I said between raspy breaths. “Please.”

But when I tried to wash him in return, to satisfy my craving to feel him, he lost all ability to behave. He shut his eyes and leaned his head back, allowing me to lather his body for less than a minute before grasping my wrists and pushing himself against me. His erection pressed into my stomach as he trapped me between a rock-hard slab of muscles and a cold, wet wall.

“Fuck it, Ree. I can’t wait anymore. I need you now. I want to take you hard.” He parted my thighs with his knee and slid his hand up the inside of my leg, toward my pulsing core. Caressing my folds, he brushed the tip of his finger over my clit, then plunged inside. “I want to make you feel just how much I fucking love you. From inside out.”