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Back Walk on the Wilder Side Save as PDF
Chapters (46)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. Epilogue
  43. Excerpt from Wilder With You
  44. Also by Serena Bell
  45. Acknowledgments
  46. About the Author

Still, I have to work hard not to feel like crap about this speech, about the part where she’s getting her shit back together and I’m a distraction.

Connor, who has always had my back, is explicitly calling me off his sister because she’s too damn good for me, and it stings.

Unfortunately, he’s right about everything he said. Part of what I love about Connor is that despite the misguided shit we did as teenagers, he’s a decent guy. What he said the other day about Rachel makes total sense. If she just got dumped, she’s probably on the rebound. Rebounds make you reckless, make you do stuff out of character. I could totally see a lifelong good girl like Rachel deciding now would be the perfect time to get herself some bad boy dick.

And that would be the shittiest reason in the world for me to blow up my friendship with Connor and risk hurting Rachel.

Not to mention, I don’t want to be Rachel’s bad boy dick.

“I won’t touch her,” I promise.

Connor’s shoulders fall with so much relief that my stomach plummets again.

He really, really doesn’t want me with his sister.

I know I shouldn’t be surprised by it—I’m no one’s prize—but it still hurts.

Connor sees me wince. “Hey, man. Look. This is for you, too. You’re not in a good place to deal with any woman’s rebound shenanigans. Zoë wrecked you. This thing with Justin—” He nods. “It would fuck up any guy with a heart. Just—give yourself a break and don’t do anything half-assed till you have some time to sort yourself out.”

He’s right, he’s right, I know he’s right.

But I can still see her, standing on my boat, clutching Jack Buddy in one hand, peeking over to see if I’m paying attention.

I am, Rachel, I am.

8

Brody

Several days after sex-on-a-boat, I have to go into the office to grab some paperwork. Not coincidentally, it’s lunchtime, which is the best time to show up at Wilder Adventure headquarters, because Amanda, who is a great cook, brings us lunch from her catering business.

I pull into the parking lot on my bike, remove my helmet, and sit there for a moment trying to get my head screwed on straight. I’ve been doing a lot of this—and also a lot of jerking off late at night—since that party.

My phone buzzes and I lunge for it. I’ve been doing that a lot, too, even though there’s no reason Rachel would call me, and many reasons she wouldn’t.

But this time it is actually her.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey.”