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Zeke could feel the blood exploding in his head at her angry little threat, and the fact that she just might be serious. Was she serious? He stared into her eyes, keeping his eyes narrowed as he gauged her expression.
Yep, she just might be serious.
“I wouldn’t jump into anything if I were you,” he warned her. He tried to keep the warning light, but he failed miserably. He knew what he sounded like. Like a man warning his woman back from a boundary she was getting ready to cross.
He couldn’t have her, but he’d be damned if he was going to stand aside and watch some other bastard take her now that he’d had a taste of her.
That thought froze him as effectively as Rogue’s warning had. Hell, he was losing his fucking mind.
“Fuck it,” he suddenly snarled. “None of my damned business. ”
“None of your damned business,” she agreed, evidently angrier now than she was to begin with.
Zeke watched the flush that mounted her cheeks, the glitter of battle in her violet eyes and almost, just almost wondered at the dominant spark that seemed to trigger a cascade of lust in his gut.
Damn her. She wasn’t supposed to challenge him. Get pissed, yeah. Challenge him?
Hell no. It was the one thing he’d fought to keep from happening over the years. Rogue challenging him wasn’t something either of them wanted to test right now. Not while the taste of her lips lingered against his, while he could still feel the slick, silken juices from her pussy against his fingertips.
“Be careful, little girl,” he told her gently. “Challenging a big dog is a hell of a lot different than those little Chihuahuas you run with sometimes. They bark at the wind and tuck their tails between their asses and run when I growl back. Remember that.
And you better consider that there’s a reason for it. I’m not a lapdog you can curl up with, pet and stroke a few times, and consider it a done deal. You’re a baby next to me, Rogue. It’s not the years between us that hold me back; it’s the fact that you and I both know there’s things about me you don’t want to tempt. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be so damned determined to push me. ”
Her brow jerked up. A perfect little sarcastic arch.
“I’ll be sure to have nightmares tonight,” she drawled. “Lock up when you leave, Sheriff. I’ve had enough of the deep, dark warnings and dominant male bullshit. I’ll let you know when I’m ready for more. ”
She sauntered past him, and he let her go. He had to force his fingers not to curl into fists to hold back the urge to reach out for her. He had to force himself not to follow her when the bedroom door closed.
Hell, he had to force himself to leave her apartment. To stride across the room, turn the lock on her door, and step outside before pulling it shut behind him. Forcing himself down the stairs and through the bar was even harder.
Because he knew what she was doing. She wasn’t in a damned bubble bath. He felt her gaze the minute he stepped from the bar. She was up there watching him, the same as he had watched her enter the bar countless times. And he wondered if she was remembering the dark promise of that kiss they had shared, because he knew he sure as hell wouldn’t be forgetting it.
The kiss itself was a challenge. He should have known the minute she began battling for his taste, pressing for more, for a deeper caress, a harder taste, that he was in deep trouble where that woman was concerned.
He should have known Rogue wouldn’t listen to a warning, that she wouldn’t see reason. She was young, impulsive, wild as the wind. Too young. Son of a bitch. He jerked his truck door open and lifted himself into the seat before slamming it closed. He wanted to ram his fists into something; he wanted to howl at the fucking moon, race back inside and show her how a man hungered, how a man took his woman, and exactly how a man expected a response.
She had no business playing games with him. No damned business pushing his buttons and leaving him with a dick so damned hard that if he did manage to get it to relax, then the bastard was still tender, still ready for action. He hadn’t been this damned ready for sex in more years than he wanted to count.
The woman worked his cock quicker than old man Parsons swore Viagra worked his.
This was a damned mess, and he was beginning to lose not just his control but also his common sense.
She was, quite simply, too damned young for what he hungered for.
FOUR
Rogue woke the next morning with a headache. Gremlins from hell were digging into her brain with dull little pick-axes right behind her eyeballs. She’d known when she lay down to sleep the night before that rest wouldn’t follow her into that dark void of unconsciousness. Dreams had instead. The same dreams that had tormented her for years.
Those damned pictures. That fateful night that had begun the emergence of the woman she hadn’t k
nown resided inside her.
David and Amy Kerring. They had been strangers in town, but Caitlyn Rogue Walker hadn’t exactly been well known in her father’s bar. She hadn’t told anyone her relationship; she liked to watch, to listen, with no one knowing who she was. That night, David and Amy had been friendly. Rogue hadn’t particularly liked them, but damn, she had been so dumb. She had turned her back on them only moments, but it was long enough for them to spike her drink.
The next thing she had known she had woken in a strange bed, half dressed, reasonably certain she hadn’t been raped, but she had known something had happened.
Nadine Grace and Dayle Mackay had happened. They had been there, and her nightmares proved it. Nadine had giggled and laughed like a schoolgirl as Dayle Mackay snapped the pictures that had been used to humiliate her ever since.
