Page 136 of Rogue Riders Duet

“And still, you use me like one.”

He opens his mouth again, closes it with a sigh, and scrubs a hand down his face. “Fine.”

“Come on.” I flash him a grin. “This is gonna be fun.”

Petit slides out of the driver’s seat, slow and stiff, and Otis practically launches into it, grinning wide as he adjusts the mirrors like he’s about to take a joyride through the Alps.

Piper turns toward the back, tossing over her shoulder, “I’m gonna check on Dane.”

That makes Petit Crews smirk. “Get it, girl.”

Piper whirls around with a scowl sharp enough to cut glass, which only makes him smile wider.

I’m grinning, too, as I hook an arm around Petit’s waist and pull him into my chest without giving him a chance to protest.

“Hey, there,” I murmur softly, dipping my head, pressing my nose into his hair like I have every right to be there.

Lavender and ointment. He smells like me.

The scent is soaked into his skin, into the fabric of his hoodie, and it clings to him in a way that makes something tighten low in my gut. It tugs at that possessive streak I’ve been pretending doesn’t exist, curling it tighter in my chest until I’m not sure where he ends and I begin.

And then he melts into the hug, not just leans. Sinks.

His shoulders drop, like he’s been holding himself up for days and just now figured out he doesn’t have to. It feels like I’m the only thing keeping him from coming apart completely, and it absolutely kills me.

Because I know that feeling. The ache of carrying too much, for too long, with no one to hand it off to.

It also confirms what I already suspected. He needs me.

He’s hurting, done with the world, and if no one else is going to make it better, I will.

My heart stutters a little when I pull back and press the trophy into his hands.

“For you, mon champion,” I whisper, but he hesitates, looking at it like it’s too heavy for his hands. “You made that mountain your bitch. Fastest time in Leogang history, remember? I’m so fucking proud of you.”

A little smile tugs at his lips when his fingers finally curl around the base of the trophy, like he’s touching something sacred. “Thank you for getting it.”

I lean in, my shoulder brushing his. “You didn’t just win, you conquered.” And I’m not letting him forget it.

He stares at it for a beat longer, then sets it on the floor behind the passenger seat, carefully, almost reverently, but like he can’t hold it any longer. When he straightens, the bus lurches forward with a sharp jolt that nearly throws both of us to the floor.

“Merde, Otis!” I bark, laughing even as my heart skips a beat.

Up front, Otis glances back, wide-eyed. “Sorry! Brakes are way more sensitive than I thought. Gotta get a feel for them.”

I guide Petit over to the bench seat, technically the passenger seat, but it’s wide enough for two if you don’t mind getting close. I drop down first, stretch out, arms open, making it clear where I expect him.

He sits beside me, but only just, edging toward the far side.

I narrow my eyes.

Don’t like that at all.

“Hell yeah!” Otis whoops from the front as we make it onto the road. “This is so much fun. Why do we let other people drive us all the time?”

Petit snorts. “I don’t know. Maybe because it’s nice to rest after hauling your body down a mountain?”

I nudge him gently with my elbow. “Then come rest.”