Chapter 23

This was more like it. Mac leaned in close, as his mate’s scent flared in the open air, that tang turning sweet as Minneola tangerines, picked fresh from the tree. His mouth watered and he leaned in. She wasn’t running, wasn’t fighting, she wanted him as much as he wanted her, it was in the lines of her body, the way she trembled as he got closer. He’d seen her glance to her left, known she’d thought about bailing, but she’d decided against it. Decided to stay with him.

She was beautiful, more beautiful than he’d ever dared hope, her eyes a warm hazel, her cheekbones high and her skin smooth, her hair so soft even the slightest breeze could pick it up and blow it against his face.

Her scent flickered suddenly, going harsh, then smoothing out. “You’re him,” she said flatly, her voice changed somehow.

“I’m anyone you want me to be, baby,” he said, leaning in to her neck, about to graze her flesh with his lips.

A sharp point at his abs stopped him. What the fuck? He looked down, and, sure enough, she had a knife teasing his gut, not bearing down enough to cut through cloth or skin, but the threat was obvious. “Seriously?” he growled. “We doing this again? You didn’t slice me up enough yesterday?”

Her eyes found his neck and he knew she was seeing unbroken skin there. Oops. First sign you are dealing with something you don’t quite understand, sweetheart?

“Don’t call me baby,” she growled right back at him.

“Got it. No baby. Now put the knife away.”

“Not if you paid me,” she spit out.

Mac raised his eyebrows, but didn’t respond. Instead, he leaned into her knife, just enough that he felt his skin pucker, then pop, then warmth spread as a bit of his blood flowed where it shouldn’t be. He caught her eyes and held them, but she was good. She didn’t let any emotion out of her cold stare.

Neither of them spoke, until he couldn’t stand it anymore. “I could take that knife from you in a half a second.”

She almost smiled. “I know you think you could, but you’re wrong.”

Something in her stare, her posture, and the way her eyes didn’t quite look at him, but instead stayed loose, taking in his body even as they maintained eye contact, told him she might be good enough to counter any move he could throw at her. He licked his lips, and, Rhen help him, he popped a motherfucking boner at the thought. He would almost be willing to let her slice him up a little bit to see what she could do.

He smiled in gracious defeat and took a step back, but when she felt him going, she sliced out wide with her wrist, but just barely forward, just enough that his shirt split open in a gaping mouth. His skin didn’t even well any blood, except in the spot where he’d pressed up against her blade. The slice had been nothing more than a warning that she really was that good.

She kept eye contact with him, cleaned her knife on her black pants, then tucked it back inside her left sleeve. He watched her do it, then checked her other sleeve. Yep, she had one there, too.

“You don’t tell me your name, and I’ma have to call you something. Blade, maybe.” He cocked his head questioningly but she didn’t respond. “No, ok, how about Hard-ass?” She still just stared at him. “Not Hard-ass.” He put a hand on his chin. “Ok, ok,” he grinned, knowing she would hate it. “No Blade, no Baby, no Hard-ass. I know, I’m gonna call you pumpkin.”

Her eyes narrowed and he almost laughed. He had her fucking number and he loved that she hated it. Loved that she looked like she wanted to murder him. Fuck, what she must be like in bed! A wildcat. A feminine version of him. A full lifetime of scorching hot sex stretched out before him like a promise and he was ready for it. They could start tonight.

He caged her again with his arms, leaning in close, taking deep breaths through his nose. His lips touched her neck and he couldn’t resist nipping her with his teeth. She shuddered and he smiled against her flesh. Oh yeah, this was going exactly where he wanted it to. She raised her arms and put them on his shoulders, holding him in place so she could whisper in his ear.

Her voice was soft, her breath hot against the shell of his ear. “You can call me pumpkin, but every time you do, I’m going to call you princess.”

He captured one of her hands from his shoulders and pulled it down the front of him, placing it on his cock, which strained at his pants. Not his classiest move, but she’d started it. “Let me show you my crown,” he murmured to her, then groaned as her fingers curled around him, moving from base to tip through the fabric, like she was testing his size. She melted against him for just a moment and he celebrated, curling one hand against the nape of her neck to hold her closer to him, to maneuver her head in for their first kiss-

She was gone. A twist in his arms and she’d ducked under. He blinked, then turned to find her standing behind him.

Ah shit, he hoped he didn’t make too much of a fool of himself, chasing her like some love-sick puppy. He’d try to keep his shit tight, but he wanted her so bad he could taste it.

He advanced on her.

***

Rogue held up a hand, glad to see him stop dead in his tracks, like he still had some control over himself. She barely had any left herself, but if this… thing between them went any farther she was going to let him do all kinds of dirty, delectable shit to her, right out here in the open, cop or not, criminal or not, all-sorts-of-weird-shit-between-them or not.

She did the only thing she could think of to throw water on the situation. “You fuck me once and disappear and you really think I’m going to let you do it again?”

That did it. He blinked and stammered and lost every ounce of cool he’d had, and he’d had way too much of it to be good for her, if she wanted to keep her pants on.

Finally, his mouth managed to work. “Fucked you… once?” His face went hard. “Don’t tell me you have me confused with someone else.”

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t even remember me. Great, even better. Just what a girl wants to hear. Is four years so far out of your man-whore cycle that you can’t remember anyone from that long ago?”

His eyes narrowed, then widened and she could see very well the moment when the knowledge of who she was slammed into him. He half pointed at her, then wiped his mouth, then pointed at her again. “You’re her. From Yosemite.” His voice was barely a whisper.

She nodded briskly. “Nice job, cop. I mean princess. Great memory you got there. You’ll excuse me if I don’t want a repeat.”

She turned and headed away from him, across the walkway of the playground, catching the steps lightly, reaching the ground, a fierce kind of satisfaction filling her that she’d thrown him such a mean right hook, even as her body screamed at her that she did want a repeat, that he’d been the only satisfying sex she’d ever had, that she should let him back her up against a tree the way he’d backed her against that rock. She could use another orgasm that made her think she was going to die. Since that one time, she’d almost decided that was the only kind of orgasm worth having.

Behind her, he must have finally came to his senses, because his heavy footfalls sounded, crossing the walkway, then down the steps, she turned around, walking backwards, and held up her hand again, the cool air whistling past her ears as she went. “Seriously. I’m done here. You really want to help me, just let me go.”

He shook his head, looking all deadly again as he followed. “I can’t do that.”

“You said you weren’t going to let anyone arrest me.”

“I’m not.”

“Not even you?”

“Not even me.” But he didn’t stop coming.

Rogue pressed her lips together and looked around. She couldn’t outrun him fast enough to get into her car and start it, but there was no way she was sticking around. He was too dangerous for her.

… Unless she went home with him. Just one night. Fucked him into a stupor, then slipped out while he slept. She already knew it would be the best sex of her life.

Crap. But it would also be dangerous as shit. A guy like that, you let him into your life just a little bit, then all of a sudden you feel like you can’t live without him. You do stupid shit. You never leave. Become his girlfriend. Give up all your dreams and desires and your own self for whatever the two of you make together. Then he asks you to marry him and you say yes because it’s a promise of him loving you for the rest of your life, feeding you orgasms like candy every single night until you don’t care about anything but getting home to him, making sure he still loves you as much as he used to, as much as he promised he always would.

Still walking backwards, still being stalked by Cop Danger, Rogue barely restrained herself from pulling at her own hair in frustration. She didn’t want him to know how conflicted she was, didn’t want him to see anything but belligerence in her stare. If he knew how much she wanted him back, he would never give up until he was balls-deep inside her. Then he probably could take her or leave her.

True, after their tryst in Yosemite, he’d wanted her name, wanted her number, but she hadn’t given it to him, so she’d never known if he would have called her or not. Never known if they could have had something then. But she sure as shit knew they didn’t have anything now.

She had to get out of there.

***

Mac followed where she led, his brain scrambled. He’d known her before! He’d had sex with her! He’d been 31, and she must have been 21. She believed he’d forgotten her because she hadn’t meant anything to him, but, truth be told, he’d been fascinated with her from the moment he saw her clinging to that rock alone. Fascinated because she was hot, with a tall, athletic body that was exactly his favorite kind, fascinated because she was alone, fascinated because she was fearless, but there had been no glimmer of her being his mate then. She’d even smelled different to him. He’d liked her, sure, but had never realized, never even dreamed…

He raised his eyes to meet hers, trying to collect his thoughts. “I wanted your name, I wanted your number, you were the one who said it would be a better fantasy if we never knew each other’s names.”

She shrugged. “I guess it didn’t mean that much to me either. You were kind of forgettable.”

Mac’s heart stung in his chest and his steps faltered. But, no, he remembered her breathy gasps in his ear, the way her nails had dug into his skin as she came, the way she’d screamed, then blushed when her orgasm was over, looking around to see if anyone had heard them. He remembered her hot pussy clenching at his cock as she drenched him. She was lying now, but her body had told the truth then.

He pressed forward, matching her step for step. She threw a glance over her shoulder to keep herself on the path, then glared hotly at him.

He glared back. “You came so hard you forgot your own name, pumpkin. I’m not sure why you’re lying to me now, but you can take this to the bank. I know you’re lying. I know I rocked your world.”

Her lips curled and he thought she would slow down. But no. “Arrogant, much?” she told him, then turned on a dime and sprinted away from him.

“Fuck,” he growled, breaking into a run. She really was going to make him work for it.

The moon shone down on them as if to say it was a good night for a chase.

He agreed.