Headstrong Like Us Read online Krista Ritchie, Becca Ritchie (Like Us #6)

Categories Genre: GLBT, M-M Romance, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: , Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Advertisement1

Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 136029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
<<<<95105113114115116117125135>138
Advertisement2


Fuck, I love him.

“I think you can do it,” I tell him. “But that doesn’t mean you should.”

A beat passes between us.

He bends down and unknots the rope. “Alright.”

“Alright?” I ask, shocked and overwhelmed.

Maximoff nods. “If you really don’t think I should, then I don’t want to do it, man.” His eyes are on mine, relief in them like he just wanted me to help him stop. His mind was already there.

It’s okay.

He’s allowed to stop.

“I’m proud of you, wolf scout.”

He almost smiles. “Don’t be too proud.” His voice lowers. “I’m still afraid of their disappointment.” He stands up, re-weaving the paracord into a bracelet.

“That just makes you huma—”

“That’s them!” Vada yells, pointing back towards the main road we hiked down.

Phone lights are specks in the dark distance as they snap photos or record us, and those pricks are snickering.

Akara swings a flashlight on them, and five guys come into view. My blood ratchets up to a boil. They’re not teenagers with baby faces. They look college-aged.

“Shitsshitohshit,” one curses at being caught, sounding British or Australian. Not even locals. Most likely college students in the area, or maybe backpacking tourists. They turn and sprint back up the road. Laughing—

“HEY!” Maximoff yells. He storms after these fuckers, fury etched in his eyes.

Shit. I bolt from the lookout point. Ditching my med bag, I run hard. My boots pound cement as I reach the secluded road, racing up the incline, elevation high.

What shocks me: Sulli is charging ahead, chasing after these snickering pricks right beside Maximoff.

And these two are fucking fast.

I’m a good ten feet behind them. My legs pump, muscles searing and pulse hammering with adrenaline. “MAXIMOFF!” I scream, lungs blistering.

“SULLI!” Akara runs, catching up to my side with the same scorching urgency. Banks is two paces behind, not as fast.

I’m not a fucking marathon runner either, and my breath heaves in spastic spurts. Giving everything inside of me to reach him. I literally can’t make up ground. I dig into pavement, tendons screaming as I lengthen my stride. As I push harder.

Harder.

I grit my teeth, fighting through my limits. Sweat drips in my eyes.

Do your motherfucking job, Farrow.

I have to protect him. I’m not letting the guy I’m with, the only one I love, enter a fistfight alone. He’s never going to be that nineteen-year-old again being beat to shit in a yacht cabin, while I laugh and drink with my friends on deck.

“SULLI!” Banks shouts.

“SLOW DOWN!” Akara yells.

They’re not slowing. They won’t. They’re pissed, and I can’t blame them. The piles of clothes on the rock ledge consisted of jeans, dresses, tees, bras, and panties.

Security has to apprehend these fuckers.

“OH SHIT!” one guy yells, seeing the sheer speed and force of Maximoff and Sulli as they close the gap. They even outpace us, their bodyguards. She’s an Olympian, and he could’ve qualified.

It’s impressive as fuck.

The road is dark. Beams of flashlights and phones whirl in chaotic directions.

Maximoff and Sulli suddenly smash into them like a head-on car collision. She shoves a guy to the pavement, and Maximoff slams a fist in a face.

The other three are about to jump him.

I see it, and I’m not there.

I’m not fucking there.

“MAXIMOFF!” I scream.

Pain raking through my muscles, wrenching breath.

One of the worst slow-motion moments of my life, and then I clasp his broad shoulder and time accelerates, triggered to a 3x speed. I wrench Maximoff back, just as a knuckles slice through air. I dodge the blow and force a jab to the bridge of a nose.

Crack.

Maximoff wrestles one fucker to the road and yells, “How old are you?!”

“Get…off me!” he grunts, definitely not Italian.

“Let me at them!” Sulli yells, and out of the corner of my eye—while I kick a college-aged guy in the gut, pushing him out of Maximoff’s path—I see Banks restraining Sulli, drawing her away from the brawl.

She elbows Banks in the chest, and he quickly tosses her over his shoulder.

Akara cups her face between his hands. “It’s over, Sul.”

I’ve never seen Sullivan fight like this. In fact, there’s a time where I distinctly remember Sulli saying she’s “a lover, not a fighter.”

“They fucked with my sister,” she says through gritted teeth.

Maximoff is all hot rage, and I pull him back as another fist flies at him. I slip left, then deck this prick in the jaw with a skilled blow. He groans, three fuckers stumbling to stand. Two pry themselves off the pavement, darkness blurring their features. Deescalate this shit.

I need to detain them, but I also have to pull my stubborn hot-headed groom to safety.

Maximoff growls at a blond-haired guy. “You told fourteen-year-old girls to get naked!”

“It was a fucking joke!” another guy yells, that one sounds American. “Get a fucking grip, you roid-raging asshole!”

“Fuck off!” I sneer through my teeth, my arm protective around Maximoff’s collarbones.


Advertisement3

<<<<95105113114115116117125135>138

Advertisement4