Rebel (Renegades #2)(19)
Author: Skye Jordan

If she had to sum it all up in three words—guys were guys.

Or so she’d thought.

But that alone didn’t warrant using Wes and destroying their friendship. She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes before releasing it slowly. He was going to be pissed when she pulled back today. But better now than later.

Softening her steps so she wouldn’t interfere with filming if they had cameras rolling, she eased through the open metal door and tiptoed toward the pain-filled grunts. The first room was empty, gloomy concrete on all sides. One filthy window was covered in iron bars and cast murky light into what felt like a dungeon.

Through doorways in the distance linking the rooms, Rubi spotted lighting, cameras, and a black pad on the floor. As she neared, she saw someone standing in the door to the room in use. Danny, one of the production assistants. He lifted his chin in greeting. Rubi smiled and pretended to crank her hand near her head in the silent question, Are they filming?

“Not yet,” Danny said quietly as Rubi neared. “Still getting the moves down.” He was tall and lanky, resting one shoulder against the concrete. With his gaze turning toward the middle of the room again—an area Rubi could see now was five times the size of any of the other rooms individually—he tilted his head toward Rubi’s and lowered his voice. “Bolton’s worth shit today, and Lawson’s not happy.”

Yards away, the costar and Keaton sparred on the mat. Wes doubled Bolton because they were physically similar—same height, roughly the same build, both blond. But Wes was ten times more attractive and carried a hell of a lot more muscle. Wes also had values like human decency, humility, and kindness, whereas Bolton was an arrogant prick. But she wasn’t partial or anything.

Keaton stood the same height as Wes and carried a similar build, but he was Japanese-American with black hair, darker skin and high cheekbones. And when that man smiled, a thousand-watt beam of light struck the heavens. Keaton had taken on a minor villain role and played opposite Wes—standing in for Bolton—in a lot of the stunt scenes.

Today Wes’s blond hair was mussed. He had his hands planted on his hips where he stood barefooted on the mat, instructing Bolton on the fight. He wore a gray tank top, tattered jeans, and a scowl.

Dee-licious.

Rubi thought of his hands and held back a delicious sigh. A man who looked like that, with his sense of humor, his intelligence, his fun-loving nature was an awesome find in itself. But a man who had all that and the talent to bring her to orgasm within minutes of laying his hands on her? And then walked away without pushing for gratification of his own obvious needs?

That was something Rubi had never encountered.

A fist of excitement and uncertainty clutched her stomach as she slipped into the room. She’d been anticipating seeing him for the first time after what transpired between them the night before since she’d gotten behind the wheel of her Aston that morning. Did he think they were a couple now? Did he regret the whole thing? Or he couldn’t care less about the exchange? Not knowing how he would respond, how his response might alter their existing friendship, unnerved her.

Wes turned as Bolton and Keaton sparred. His gaze clicked to hers as soon as she came within his line of sight, and she felt the sync at gut level. He lingered there a moment, his eyes on hers, but his expression never altered. His eyes were dark, his jaw tight in frustration. Then his gaze swung back toward Bolton without any acknowledgment.

Rubi simultaneously experienced both relief and dread.

“Snap your head, dude,” Wes said in a tone that indicated he’d been saying it all morning. “Put your shoulder into it—”

Keaton threw a quick solid punch, and, while Bolton reacted, his response wasn’t near intense enough to make the reception believable.

Wes reached out and pulled Bolton aside by the arm. “Okay.” His voice held barely restrained patience. “I’m going to show you one more time.”

Rubi lifted her phone, brought Wes and Keaton into the viewfinder, and hit the Record button. Then she held her hand steady while she lifted her gaze to watch Wes.

“Come on,” Wes said to Keaton.

The other Renegade struck out. Wes’s head snapped sideways with a grunt, followed by his shoulder as he fell off balance. Rubi gasped and immediately covered her mouth. She sent a sidelong grin toward Danny and whispered, “Sorry. It looks so real.”

“It does when Wes and Keaton do it.”

As soon as Wes straightened, setting his stance, pulling up his fists, Keaton hit him again. Again, Wes snapped his head, fell sideways. Keaton didn’t wait for him to reset this time, and nailed another fist into—what looked like—Wes’s face. And even though Rubi knew for a fact Keaton wasn’t making contact, the punches looked authentic enough to make her cringe.

Wes put up a flat hand to Keaton, straightened, and turned to Bolton. “Got it?”

Bolton nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I can do this.”

“I would hope so,” Wes muttered.

Wes crossed his arms and stood back. Keaton waited as Bolton set himself up, then Wes said, “Ready…and…action.”

Keaton threw another perfectly aimed punch, his arm muscles rippling with the effort, and Bolton jerked his head sideways.

“Better,” Wes said, his voice infused with guarded enthusiasm. “Again. Bring your shoulder all the way through as you turn.”

They went over that one punch three more times while Wes circled them, shooting instructions at Bolton. The man seemed wholly unsteady on his feet and was sweating like a glass of ice water in the sun.

Wes continued instruction, pausing to show Bolton how to bleed one hit into a returned punch followed by a martial-arts kick. Rubi knew he was asking too much of the costar. Wes was fluid and practiced. Strong and sober. Confident and commanding. Bolton, one of the most famous up-and-coming stars, didn’t just pale in comparison, he turned invisible.

Rubi leaned against the wall and enjoyed the simple but vivid pleasure of watching Wes move. His shoulder and arm muscles rolled with each punch. His ribbed abdomen clenched beneath the fitted cotton. His thick thigh muscles flexed when he kicked out in a roundhouse. His expression tightened with intensity as he spun and landed steady and strong.

She could still feel him pressed to her back. Marveled at the thought of how gently those hands had touched her most intimate places. Rubi’s belly fluttered with a strange sensation. She tried to fit it into some known framework but couldn’t. She pushed the uncomfortable feeling to the back of her mind and focused on the men.