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That dark lust inside him was pushing him, urging him to replace the innocence in her eyes with all the feminine knowledge of the pleasure he could give her. The extremities of passion. The dark lines between pleasure and pain that could fill her with sensations she couldn’t imagine.
It wasn’t quite BDSM. What he needed didn’t cross those lines. It was a driven lust. A dark infusion of extreme pleasure and control-shattering hunger. It was hearing her scream his name because she needed to come so badly she was shaking apart from the tension. It was watching her eyes as he took her as she pleasured herself, or as he fucked that sweet little ass and filled her with a pleasure/pain that left her screaming.
It was leaving control behind and taking her against the wall, on a table, or better yet, his back deck while nature looked on. It was doing all the things with her that he had never allowed himself to do with a woman when he was involved in a relationship with them. It was being who and what he was when he had never allowed himself to do that with any other woman. And now, pulling back from Rogue was next to impossible.
Gritting his teeth, he grabbed the washcloth he had hung on the inside rack, soaped it, and put himself to showering rather than driving himself insane over a problem he couldn’t fix at the moment.
He had enough to keep him busy; he didn’t need to add to his problems. He had a meeting with the coroner and with Alex later in the afternoon, and his own reports to file. He didn’t need the additional headache of wondering if his lover was too innocent for the dominant sex his tastes ran to.
He wanted to own her. That was his problem. Own her emotions, her heated response, and the fiery depths of her heart. And owning those parts of Rogue would never be easy. She would steal his soul. And the thought of that was enough to leave him stumbling amid his own emotions. It was enough to assure him he was getting in deep, perhaps too deep, and that walking away later may be next to impossible.
Rogue was pouring her first cup of coffee when Zeke strode from the bedroom, fully dressed in clean clothes. The sight of that official uniform conforming to his body sent a shiver up her spine. It wasn’t just the effect of the clothes on his hard body, but the effect his masculine expression had on her insides. It made her heart pound, made her flesh feel too sensitive.
Her brow arched at the uniform he was wearing. “You came prepared. ”
“I keep an extra uniform in the Tahoe. I went down earlier and got it. ” He shrugged as he moved for the coffee cup. “I have to be on duty in an hour. Are you working at the restaurant this evening?”
She shook her head. “I have two more days off from the restaurant. I have some things to clear away here. ”
“Things like Jonesy?” he pressed.
Jonesy worried her, but she wouldn’t tell Zeke that. There was something in the other man’s attitude last night that warned her that her bartender was close to stepping over the line. He wanted Rogue away from Zeke, and she couldn’t figure out why.
“I told you, Zeke, Jonesy is my business,” she warned him as she stared into his fierce, demanding gaze.
He was staring back at her as though he could force her to do as he wanted with nothing more than his eyes. And she had to admit, she almost wished she could give in to him. But she knew Jonesy, loved him like a brother. He had helped her when Nadine Grace and Dayle Mackay had tried to destroy her life. He had taught her how to fight; he had taught her how to be who she had always been meant to be.
“Zeke, keep your nose out of my business,” she warned him as his gaze flickered with a dangerous glitter. She didn’t doubt he was planning to confront Jonesy himself. “I know how to handle things fine all by my little lonesome. ”
Rogue almost laughed at the frustration and the hint of arousal in his expression. Her defiance was turning him on. She loved it.
“I’m sure you do. ” He appeared to agree. Somehow she doubted he was as agreeable as he sounded. He looked damned pissed.
She watched him suspiciously.
“Poke your nose in my business and I’ll get pissed,” she warned him. “I’m not very nice when I’m pissed, Zeke. ”
He snorted at that. “Yeah, I’m the one your casualties run crying to,” he reminded her.
“How many attempted lawsuits have you had this year so far for wrecking men in your bar?”
She almost blushed. She was a bit prone to using her knee rather than cool reason. But in her own defense, cool reason didn’t always work when a man was filled with drink and bravado.
“Not a single one this year I’ll have you know. ” She glared back at him. “And if their mothers had taught them how to behave, then I wouldn’t have to spank them, now would I?”
His lips almost twitched into a smile. She could see him holding back his amusement, but it was there. She would have been offended if she didn’t often find it funny herself.
He lifted his cup to his lips and sipped at the coffee; as he lowered it, the phone at his side rang imperatively. Rogue’s gaze jerked to his hip, then to his thighs as she felt her breath tighten. Damn, he really was aroused, and the pants of his uniform did nothing to hide it.
Frowning, Zeke pulled the cell phone from its hip holster, checked the number, then flipped it open with a terse, “Hello. ”
Something was wrong. Rogue felt it the moment his expression went hard, emotionless.
His gaze became flat, distant, and something dangerous flashed in his eyes as he listened to whatever was being said.
“Secure the scene, I’m on my way,” he ordered.
His frown deepened. “I don’t give a damn what you think, Gene,” he snapped. “Secure the fucking scene and try not to compromise it any more than you can help. ”
