Page 88 of Wicked Court

“Wilder. Don’t be an idiot.”

Ignoring her admonition, I let my foot hang over the edge, my entire body teetering dangerously backward. A rush of air sweeps past me, carrying the threat of an imminent free fall. The cliff’s jagged teeth open their welcoming maw.

“Wilder, you’re scaring me.” Elara’s shout cuts through the wind.

“All I want is for you to be dripping for me, baby.”

Her answer doesn’t come as words, but as action. She sprints toward me, her fingers curling around my forearm and yanking me back to the relative safety of solid ground.

The force of her pull, unexpected and fierce, causes me to lose footing and we both tumble onto the gravelly soil.

The uncontrolled descent results in a twisted pile of limbs and breathless exclamations. Beneath me, Elara writhes to free herself. Every brush of her body against mine sends a sizzling jolt through my veins. My nostrils flare at her scent, a sweet blend of vanilla perfume and the high of facing death and winning that still covers her.

“Get off.” Her voice is a breathless rasp in my ear.

I laugh in answer. “Do I have to check for myself?”

“You’re out of your mind.” She slaps my hand away as it travels between us.

The touch is a charge—a current passing from her fingers into mine through the gloves, electrifying the small spaces of air between our bodies. I pull her to a standing position, my grip lingering just a second too long for it to be casual.

“Just kidding. I don’t have to feel it for myself. I know, and I remember.” I give a wink to our past, delicious encounters.

With a dismissive snort, she tries to pull her hand away from mine, but I hold on.

“Let go, Wilder.”

The warning in her tone does nothing to dissuade me.

I lean into her personal space, enjoying the soft pause of her breath.

“Make me,” I dare her. The cliff-edge looms behind us. “Maybe this time I’ll take you, too.”

Instead of retreating like I expected her to, she steps forward, closing the gap between us until our bodies were are inches apart. The heat radiating from her is a tangible force that makes my blood simply hum.

Elara notches her chin until our lips almost touching. I smile, waiting for her surrender.

They all do, in the end.

With an unexpected surge of strength, she twists her wrist out of my grip and takes a long step back. But not before whispering in a voice so low I have to strain my ears to catch it, “You don’t have to push every limit, you know.”

“Why not? I’d get bored, otherwise.”

Her chest rises and falls. She looks down, trying to hide her concern for me behind the curtain of her hair.

But I can see it all: the frantic rise of her chest, the pulse in her neck, the way she struggles not to stare at me.

I keep my smile as I brush dirt off my sleeves, taking my time adjusting my clothes. My eyes rake over her figure appreciatively. She’s so fucking incredible in this godforsaken place that offers no escape from anyone or anything.

“You’re asking for the impossible,” I add. “This is who I am.”

The soft mist lifts her auburn hair around her face, and as she stares back at me with desolate eyes, I actually think I may have taken it too far.

Her slim fingers are still trembling from the fall as they lift to push strands behind her ears, but they hesitate for a moment before settling on the delicate lobes pierced by small gold hoops.

I angle my head in study. “No one’s ever been worried about me before. And after everything we’ve done to you, I did not think you’d be the one to come to my rescue.”

“That suicidal game of chicken you just played may have been fun for you, but I was terrified, Wilder. You did that to me. I can’t stand by and see someone—someone?—”

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