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Ride hard. Ride fast.
They say I’m hell on wheels. A rebel without a cause. The fastest, hardest, most successful motorcycle racer alive. They say I don’t know how to lose – that I always get what I’m after.
And I always do, except for her – my illicit obsession.
Years ago, I chose fame over forbidden temptation. Back then, she was way too young. Too off-limits. My best friend’s little sister and way too good for a rough, dirty street racer like me.
Now I’m back – rich, hardened, and fallen from grace after getting kicked off the racing circuit. But Hailey Prescot might just be my saving grace. She might be my angel.
Her heavenly curves beg for my dirty hands and rough kiss, and that temptingly sassy mouth get my engine roaring.
My past want’s to tear me down, and my demons want to take her away from me. But I lost her once, and I don’t plan on letting that happen again. And once I get my hands on her, I won’t stop until I’ve claimed every part of her.
My name is Aiden Rush, and I don’t know how to lose.
Rebel Rider is a full-length (~85,000 words) contemporary second chance romance. Steamy, wild, and angsty as hell. Safe, no cliffhanger, and a guaranteed happy ever after!
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This is wrong.
Or at least, I know if anyone walks in, they’re going to say it’s wrong. But it sure doesn’t feel wrong. Not at all. Not on the inside, where my heart is pounding like a drum, or where my stomach is knotting up as the butterflies dance like they are at an all-night rave.
Not on the outside either. No, it definitely doesn’t feel wrong on the outside, where the nearness of him, and the heat of his skin so close to mine sends goosebumps up my bare arms. Not on the outside, where those gorgeous, dangerous, heartbreaker-blue eyes of his pierce sharply into mine. Not when his lips are so freaking close to mine that I can almost taste them.
“Hailey,” he murmurs my name, his eyes never leaving mine as the words breathe across my lips. And God, I want to live in that moment right there where Aiden Rush says my name like that. Like it’s a prayer and the dirtiest curse all at the same time.
Even I know it’s wrong. Even if I’m not really sure this is actually happening, and not a fevered dream. But then, there’s that heat from his skin so close to mine, and the flicker of fire in those baby-blues of his. And I know this is real. I know that I’m actually sitting here, inches away from the one boy I’ve always wanted, and the one boy I can’t ever have.
He’s five years older than me. He’s grown up rough, and damaged—a sharp contrast to the relative softness of my own life. And he’s my brother’s best friend.
Heartthrob. Fantasy. My forbidden crush for as long as I can remember what it felt like to feel that way about a boy. I’m not alone, either. Heck, every girl we went to school with had a crush on Aiden. Every girl who watches him on TV, or on the internet as he roars his bike around tight corners, defying gravity and physics and death has a crush on him. Or if not, when he wins, as he always does, and takes that helmet off for the cameras?
Oh, they’ve all got crushes on him then. They’re all in love with Aiden Rush, and here I am, alone with him, inches away from kissing him. Inches which might as well be miles.
His arm is draped across the back of the couch that we’re both perched on, facing each other, unblinking. The glow from the DVD menu screen of Easy Rider—his favorite movie that he’s been bugging me to watch—washes over us in the otherwise dark of the basement of my parents’ house.
“Hailey, Hailey, Hailey,” he murmurs softly, that rough deepness of his voice rumbling through the air between us. “What are you doing, Hailey?”
I have no freaking idea.
Not really. I’ve been kissed before, but this is different. This is Aiden.
“I dunno,” I whisper, swallowing the lump in my throat as I wet my lips with my tongue.
“Yes, you do.”
That heat teases over me again, and I shiver, the butterflies in my stomach fluttering faster as my pulse quickens even more.
“Hailey,” he growls, his baby-blues flickering fire and heat, and I swear he moves an inch closer to me.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been in my parent’s basement with Aiden. There was a time when he lived down here, actually, after his parents died. But it’s never been like this. It’s never been just him and I, alone, in the dark, watching a movie. Never with us both being adults. Never without my brother or someone else down here too.
And trust me when I say I’m fully aware of that.
“We can’t do this.”
The boldness of my retort throws even me off, but I see the surprise spread over his face as he grins that lopsided, heart-melting-amongst-other-things smile.
“You’re too young.”
“I’m eighteen.” My voice a mix of breathlessness and frustration.
“Three days ago,” he growls, his jawline clenching as he tightens it.
“So, there’s Luke.”
“I don’t see what my brother has to do with this.”
Aiden growls lowly, his jaw tightening. “I know you don’t. But I do.”
My flash of boldness in the silence following the movie is faltering. The superhuman strength I’ve worked up inside in order to turn to him in the glow from the TV and to not shy away when he turned to me is fading as the moment stretches on.
And suddenly, I don’t even know what I’m doing. What did I think? That somehow, suddenly, the god-like Aiden Rush who probably has a constant stream of gorgeous, sexy, confident, and experienced women all over him when he’s out on tour with his bike would fall under the charm of my feminine wiles?
…Did I think I had feminine wiles?
I look at Aiden, and suddenly, all my scheming and planning seems ridiculous. I knew Aiden was back in Bernwood off tour for a week for Christmas. I knew he’d be over to see Luke, who was also home. I knew Luke’s old girlfriend from back in school was also home for the holidays, and I knew calling her to come over to say hi, while Luke was here, was a guaranteed disappearance act for both of them to Luke’s old bedroom.