I’m Paxton Wilder.
Twenty-two-year-old, five-time X Games medalist.
And I have more tattoos than scars.
I’ve never seen a stunt I couldn’t pull off–
Or a girl I can’t get off.
Until she walks in.
My new tutor is sexy, smart, more stubborn than I am, and one hundred percent off limits.
That’s right–the only rule this semester is Don’t Touch the Tutor.
For the first time in my life, I want someone I can’t have.
She’s the girl who obeys every rule.
I’m the guy who breaks them.
Our biggest risk is falling for each other,
But I live for risk…
GOODREADS LINK: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28672986-wilder
“Do I get a good-luck kiss?” he asked after checking for cameras, his hands framing my waist.
“Paxton.” I tried to make it sound like a warning, but it came out too breathy, too wanting. For crying out loud, I couldn’t even control my own voice against this guy.
He squeezed lightly and then groaned. “Did I ever tell you that I love this dress?”
I shook my head. The spaghetti-strap maxi dress had been a last-minute choice, but Penna said she was going to burn all my pants if she saw me in them for the twenty-first day in a row.
He leaned down, his mouth against the shell of my ear. “I can feel every curve under my hands, which makes me pretty damn desperate to slide this up your legs and really get my hands on you. But I won’t. You know why?”
I shook my head.
“Because you haven’t said yes—yet—and I’m a goddamned gentleman.”
My fingers traced the lines of the Chinese symbol tattoos that ran up his neck, simply unable not to touch him. “Do I have to say yes to everything to get to kiss you?” I asked.
His breath stuttered. “Do you want to say yes?”
Our eyes met, and it would have been so easy to say it, to throw my hesitation overboard and jump. But that wasn’t me, and it didn’t matter that I was in a breezy dress under the Italian sun with the hottest extreme athlete on the planet, I was still…me. “I’m thinking about it.”
His forehead puckered for a millisecond before he relaxed and smoothed the line of my waist. “Then I think we can take yeses on a case-by-case basis.”
My heart pounded in anticipation. “Leah, would you like me to kiss you?”
“Yes,” I answered instantly.
Our hips met first as he drew me in. My hands slipped down the edges of his T-shirt to grasp the inked lines of his biceps. Arms like his should be modeled, sculpted, revered… or maybe just outlawed.
“Do you want to kiss me?” I asked.
“Hell yes,” he answered, then brushed his mouth against mine once before settling over me.
I opened for him, and he dove in, his tongue filling my mouth while my ass filled his hands. Gentleman, indeed.
“Is that what you want, Leah?” he asked, his breath hot against my ear, his breathing bordering on ragged.
I whimpered again, answering him with another push of my hips.
He drew back, denying me the pressure I was desperate for. “It’s what I want. Except I want you naked, so I can feel all of your skin against me, taste the tiny beads of sweat I’ll work you into.”
I tried to roll up again, but he brought his hands to my hips, pinning me to the bed. “Paxton,” I whined, trying to reach to kiss him, to get any part of him I could.
“Tell me, I want to hear you say it.”
“Why? You know I want you. Isn’t that enough?” I asked.
His thumbs caressed my hipbones, but I wanted more. Needed more.
“No. I want the words.” He leaned down, dragging his tongue across my lower lip. When I tried to get more, he pulled back, no trace of teasing on his face. “I want to know that I have you on the same fucking edge you’ve had me dangling on for weeks now, desperate to know how you feel, taste, sound when you’re coming apart.”
His words—those sweet, seductive, dirty freaking words turned me up another notch, deepened the pulsing ache I had right where his hips were pressed. How the hell could I keep up with this man?
“Words give you power over me,” I admitted. I tried to roll my hips again, but he held me pinned, immobile. “You’re already the one in control.”
He lowered his head, dragging his tongue from the line of my pajama bottoms, past my belly button, through the valley of my breasts and ending at my neck before he kissed me. There was an edge of desperation to his kiss that hadn’t been there before, like he could kiss my compliance from me.
He damn near did. I would have done almost anything to keep him kissing me like that, but it wasn’t enough. My body was on fire, demanding a release I’d denied it for way too long.
“Control?” he questioned as he pulled away, those blue eyes digging into my soul in a way nothing else could. “Okay, I like being in control, especially when I have you underneath me. But the power is all yours. You just have to realize that I will do whatever you ask, whatever you need. I might control your body, but you control every…part…of… me.” He punctuated each word with a slight thrust against me, the pressure enough to send tendrils of pleasure through my limbs as if he’d caressed my entire body. “Now tell me what you want. I am yours to command.”
“I want your hands on me,” I answered. Then, before he could ask me where, I showed him.
Rebecca Yarros is a hopeless romantic and a lover of all things coffee, chocolate, and Paleo. She is the author of the Flight & Glory series, including Full Measures, the award-winning Eyes Turned Skyward, Beyond What is Given, and Hallowed Ground. She loves military heroes, and has been blissfully married to hers for fourteen years.
When she’s not writing, she’s tying hockey skates for her four sons, sneaking in some guitar time, or watching brat-pack movies with her two daughters. She lives in Colorado with the hottest Apache pilot ever, their rambunctious gaggle of kids, an English bulldog who is more stubborn than sweet, and a bunny named General Fluffy Pants who torments the aforementioned bulldog. They recently adopted their youngest daughter from the foster system, and Rebecca is passionate about helping others do the same.
Rebecca is represented by Louise Fury of the Bent Agency.