18. Reed #2
By the time we are climbing off the speedboat and getting back on board the yacht, it’s already late afternoon.
The crew are probably busy inside preparing dinner, but Wilder is sitting in the small pool on the top deck, enjoying the peace and sunshine.
He’s wearing sunglasses, but a part of me feels as if he is watching us as we climb aboard.
He makes no move to greet us or even acknowledge our presence, but I can practically feel his stare on my spine.
None of the others seem to pay him any attention, making plans to meet back on deck for a late dinner in a few hours, but my focus remains on Wilder.
Will things be weird between us now?
I know last night wasn’t the first night between us, but it did feel different, more intense, and even as I make my way inside to dump my things I can feel his attention on me.
I don’t know what makes me change out of my clothes and into my swim shorts, and I definitely don’t know what makes me walk out to the pool on the upper deck.
Wilder is still there, still watching, even with his shades hiding his eyes, I can still feel it.
He’s sitting on a built-in ledge in the pool, with one arm stretched out along the back and the other leaning atop his bent leg, with a joint in his hand.
He brings it to his mouth, placing it against his lips and inhaling deeply.
I can just make out a pair of black swim shorts beneath the water, and half of his torso is peeping out the top, looking slick.
I’m not sure if it’s from the pool water or sweat, but either way he looks utterly intoxicating.
I’m half wishing I had my own sunglasses on now to hide my ogling, but if Wilder notices, he doesn’t react. “I thought they did random drug testing in PRI?” I say by way of greeting, climbing up into the pool, feeling his stare on me as I slide into the water.
It’s nice and cold against the overbearing afternoon sun, but it does nothing to chill the burning heat inside of me. I’m almost certain his gaze drags down the length of my body, probably taking in the mess of marks and bruises he left behind last night, but still he appears the epitome of casual.
“They do,” he replies, blowing the smoke in my direction, as if he didn’t just sky rocket his rookie season into the damn stratosphere with the win in Milan.
His win has been all anyone has talked about for the last week, the footage of it is everywhere, finally shining a light on him that isn’t shadowed by his last name or the bullshit he sometimes pulls.
He should already be riding a high, not trying to find one.
Although he seems like he doesn’t care, which is weird, because more eyes are on him now than ever before, and he could ruin it with something as dumb as smoking a joint.
Is his whole future really worth the risk?
I never pegged him for someone who doesn’t care, I thought PRI was everything he ever wanted. So what the hell is he doing?
“Are you trying to sabotage yourself?” I ask as a joke, but from the firm set of his jaw, I’m thinking I might have hit the nail on the head.
When Mr. Miles hired me, he talked about how difficult his son was, but it’s only now I’m remembering that he stated things had only changed this year.
I never thought to ask what he meant, thinking it wouldn’t be any of my business, even if I did get the job, but now I’m here, I'm more interested in the why than I ever thought possible.
Did something happen?
Or was he always a loose canon just waiting to explode?
Wilder still watches me, even from behind the glasses, and I wonder if he knows I can feel him staring at me.
That I’m so in tune with his presence that I can feel his stare on me, and right now it’s locked firmly in place, like I am his prisoner.
Even with the shield I can see him contemplating my question in the same way he always does, like he is sick of me asking them, but is considering how to answer it anyway.
I half expect him to tell me to fuck off, but he changes the subject instead. “Last night was fun,” he drawls, making my entire body instantly heat at the memory, but I keep my face casual as I nod.
“Yeah, it was.” I don’t mean for my voice to sound breathy, but if he notices he doesn’t say anything.
Whatever happened between us was just a bit of fun, nothing more, and I need him to know that.
“Did you know it was my brother’s birthday yesterday?” His question catches me off guard completely, and I blink back a little in confusion, before I shake my head slowly in response.
Of course I had no idea it was Jason Miles' birthday yesterday. I only did a little research about him, and it wasn’t exactly focused on the day he was born.
No, it was more about where the hell he’s gone and why he hasn’t come back.
I wonder if that’s what has him getting high now, the fact he doesn’t know where his brother is.
Which only brings another question to mind that I can’t leave unspoken.
“Is that why you did it?” We both know what I’m talking about, and to my surprise, Wilder shakes his head, and his answer shouldn’t delight me. If anything, I should wish he used me as nothing more than a distraction, it would make this invisible thing between us a lot easier to navigate.
My own mind is flooded with questions now though, wondering if whatever has happened with his brother is the reason he seems so detached.
It has to be, right? I mean, things are a little strange, sure there are questions about Jason’s whereabouts, but the family have confirmed nothing, not from what I could find online anywhere, anyway.
“Do you know where he is?” I dare to ask, wondering if it’s some sort of rehab situation or something.
Maybe he’s worried about him, and that’s what has him on edge and unable to focus when he’s off the track.
“I mean, people don’t just disappear without a trace, so you have to know where he is, right?
Like, what’s the deal there?” Each question pours from my mouth with no way for me to stop it, and finally a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“You sound just like them,” he muses, referring to the press that constantly bothers him, and I am both offended and pissed off.
“That’s not why I’m asking,” I snap. “What, you think I’d fuck you to try and get information about your brother, and then sell it to the highest bidder?” My words are scoffed in disgust, but Wilder only remains watching me. “I was just asking to make sure you were okay.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean why? Because we’re friends…” I trail off before I can finish that sentence, and his lethal smile is out in full force now, as he takes another drag of his joint.
“Friends, is that what we are?”
His question now is a loaded one, because I don’t usually let my friends fuck me over a balcony, and then share me with their racing buddy, but here we are.
When I started the season with him, I told him firmly that we weren’t friends.
Fucking and work aside, we haven’t really spent much time together to constitute any kind of friendship before here and Milan, but we still have another couple of months together.
We can’t be more than the sex we’ve had, but maybe we could actually be friends.
“It’s what we should be,” I state firmly, so he’s clear that nothing like last night can happen again, despite how good it was.
I expect a little pushback, but Wilder only smirks, stubbing out his joint and pushing up his sunglasses so I can see his stare trail over my upper torso.
“Then I guess I’m sorry for all the marks I left on you like you were mine,” he purrs, his words going straight to my cock, before I watch him stand up to get out of the pool.
My own stare eats up all the bare skin he has on display, every muscle flexing as he moves, and for some insane reason I find myself calling out to him in response.
“Don’t be,” I start, making him pause to look back at me.
His shorts are spilling water all over the deck, and I track the droplets spilling down his back, as I shrug.
“They’re a nice reminder of how hot it was to be fucked by you,” I tell him firmly, and I swear I see his stare darken before he smirks again.
“Then let me know if you ever want a repeat.” He says it casually, but there is still a heat to his words that makes my head spin.
“What? Just that easy?” I dare to ask, not sure why I’m prolonging this conversation and flirting with him, and now it’s his turn to shrug.
“Of course not, I’d make you beg first, Blue,” he states matter-of-factly, giving me one last look over, before he finally turns and walks away.
Great, now I’m once again hard for Wilder fucking Miles.