Roarke was standing in the shower, head bowed under the water, both hands braced against the tile in front of him. He was all hard muscles and stark ink and her already fast pulse kicked up a notch.

“Leave.”

The rough word grated over her already raw nerve endings. Guttural and deep, it held so much animosity Marina almost took a step back, but screw that.

It’d been total chaos at the hospital once the police had arrived. And they hadn’t listened to her, hadn’t taken any notice of her screaming or her pleading, her attempts to explain. They’d taken Roarke into custody with the other man and dragged him away. And they’d questioned her and the others for what seemed like hours. After they’d all given their statements they’d been free to go, but even though she knew Roarke had been released, he’d ignored all her calls and texts.

“Get the fuck out of here, Marina. Now.”

She wanted… God, she didn’t know what she wanted. To thank him, to make sure he wasn’t hurt, to… She clenched her hands into fists. She wanted, needed him to reassure her dammit, that he was okay, that she was okay, to hold her because she felt as if she was going to break into a million tiny pieces any minute.

“Not going to happen,” she managed.

He shut off the water with a violent twist and stepped out of the shower, all wet, smooth skin, flexing muscles and aggressive male.

“You fucking asked for it then.”

She gasped when he walked right to her—eyes narrowed—in a handful of fast, easy strides. He backed her into the wall, placed his hands flat on each either side of her head and leaned down until his eyes were level with hers.

Marina was locked into place by his nearness, his heat, caged in his stance. She frowned. Why the hell was he so angry? His dark gaze was feral. Yeah, angry didn’t even scratch the surface.

“You don’t ever do anything like that again,” he forced out. “Do you hear me?”

Hear him? She could feel his words against her face.

“Roarke,” she choked out. “I—”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Marina, he pointed a gun at you. Right at you.”

Yeah, she’d been there.

“Roarke—”

“That is unacceptable. Do you understand? You do not step in front of someone with a fucking gun.”

“You did,” she shot back, because she’d never forget seeing that gun pointed at him, how he’d made himself a target, so calmly, as if it were nothing.

“Yeah. It’s what I’m trained for. I broke that man’s hand, Marina. With purpose and precision because I could and it was the most efficient way to take control of the situation.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“Because I’m a trained killer.”

“Roarke—”

“Enough.” He pushed himself off the wall and stepped back. “You need to leave. Go.”

“Will you,” she choked out. “Just for one minute, shut up and hold me?”

His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “Hold you? You want comfort?” He spread his arms out wide, glanced down at his own body before raking her with a searing glance that enveloped her from head to foot in hot, dirty heat. “This is how I can comfort you.”

Oh, God. The sound of her own heartbeat roared in her ears. He was hard, full and thick.

“If you wanna fuck,” he added. “I’m up for it, but what I have in me right now is hard, fast, angry sex. You up for that?”

She should have been intimidated by his size, his nakedness, his aggression, but she wasn’t—at all—because she saw through his bullshit for what it was.

“Stop it,” she snapped.

“Stop what?”

“Being nasty.”

He snorted. “You’ve known me long enough to know ‘being nasty’ is part of my make up.”

“No. You use it to push people away.”

“So?”

“Just like you’re doing right now.”

“Again… So?”

So it didn’t work on her, not really, although that didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt.

“I really want to tell you to go to hell right now,” she managed.

He tilted his head back, all arrogant male challenge. “Then why don’t you? I sure as fuck deserve it.”

Yeah.

“Because that’s what you expect, what you want. So I’ll just take the hard, fast, angry sex instead.”

His brows shot down over his eyes. “Marina—”

“But I’ll do what I wanted to do at the hospital first—before everything went sideways—and you’ll damn well let me.”

She stepped forward before he could figure out what she was going to do, wrapped her arms around his waist, laid her cheek against his chest, let her eyes drift shut and held on. Tight.

There was no softness on his big body. None. She’d never get used to how hard he was, how unyielding. He kept his hands by his sides, but she didn’t care. She needed to feel his warmth, be close to him, reassure herself that he was okay, even if he was being an asshole.

“I’m fine, Roarke,” she forced out, her voice muffled against his chest. “Because you made sure of it.”

One of his hands clenched in the back of her hair. He shuddered against her. She heard him swallow.

“I blame you, Marina. I blame you for all of it.”

His words were barely audible, thick and hoarse.

She pulled back so that she could look into his face. “Blame me for what?”

“I blame you for making me scared for you, I blame you for making me feel blind, sheer terror for the first time in my life and I blame you for— Goddamn it, Marina,” he forced out. “I blame you for making me feel again.”

The punch to her gut was fast, sharp. “Oh, Roarke.”

He walked her back a step until she was against the wall again. “And you were supposed to say no to the hard, fast, angry sex.”

How could she? He was hurting, whether he’d ever admit it or not.

He reached over to a drawer in the vanity and yanked it open. “Hold this,” he bit out.

Marina took the condom packet with a trembling hand. He kept his gaze locked to hers as he slipped rough hands under the waistband of her scrubs and yanked them down, taking her panties with them.

Heat surged through her, and she shivered at the brush of his fingers against naked skin. He crouched, pushing the pants all the way to her ankles. And then he stilled. And just looked at her. There.

His nostrils flared. God, he was smelling her. She bit her lip as he leaned forward, the flesh between her legs already hot, getting wetter by the second.

She gasped and then moaned when he put his mouth between her legs in a bold, open mouthed kiss. He sucked her clit into his mouth and ate at her, hard and frenzied, the suckling sounds almost as mind-destroying as the broad flat of his tongue against her. There. Right there. Where she needed it.. So bad.

She shifted her legs as far apart as she could, threaded her fingers through his hair and drove her hips against that relentless tongue, matching his rhythm as she fought for breath. The rasp of his beard against the sensitive skin of her thighs—and higher, between her legs—seared her from head to foot and she shook at the intensity of it.

“Roarke,” she whimpered when he stood without warning. God, she’d been a split second, less, away from exploding against his mouth.

“Put it on me.”

The words were low and rough and it took her a moment for his words to register. The flesh between her legs throbbed, stung, almost as if it knew what was coming.

While he watched her tear open the packet, he slid a rough hand between her legs and without any hesitation he eased a hard finger into her. He gave her no time to get used to it, to him, before he began pumping in and out.

“Roarke,” she panted, finding it almost impossible to keep her eyes open. “I can’t…”

God, her fingers wouldn’t work. She bit her lip, reached down, managed to get the rubber onto the head of his cock. Just as she went to roll it down, he added a second finger, filling her, stretching her.

“Please,” she begged.

“I need you close before I get inside you, Marina. I’m going to last no fucking time at all.”

Her hand engulfed him and he hissed at the contact. As soon as she’d rolled it down as far as she could, he eased his fingers from her and moved between her legs, pushing himself between her folds.

And then he surged into her in one sure stroke. She clutched for his shoulders when he grasped her hips, lifted and pinned her against the wall.

She threw her head back, closed her eyes, swamped with sensation, filled and stretched, trapped by his big, heavy, heaving body.

When he didn’t move, she opened her eyes with an effort.

A pulse flexed at his temple, his dark eyes glazed with pleasure.

“Okay?” he rasped.

“Oh, God. Yes.”

“Then hold on.”

She wrapped her legs around his hips, clasped her arms around his massive shoulders.

His fingers clenched into the soft flesh of her hips and he began to move. Thick and long he surged into her, once, twice, a third time before he froze, groaned into her neck.

“I’m—”

She been going to say “coming”, but didn’t get the word out, couldn’t. Sensation, sharp and powerful exploded through her, blinding and deafening her to everything around her, until the only thing she was aware of was Roarke, his ragged breathing at her neck, his guttural grunts of pleasure as he thrust through his own orgasm, drawing out her own.

“Okay?”

This time all she could do was nod.

She sucked in a breath when he eased from her body, steadying her until she stood. Her heart was racing, her body trembling and her legs, they were still shaking.

God, he hadn’t been messing around when he’d said hard and fast. She felt hot color flood her cheeks when she looked down. She still had her top on.

Before he could step away from her, she put both hands on his cheeks, brought him down to her.

His gaze might already be shuttered, emotions hidden, locked down, but the remnants of pleasure—pleasure he’d gotten from her—was still stamped on his features. His eyes were darker than usual, cheeks flushed, the lines beside his mouth less defined. His features were bold and strong and his mouth… God, those full lips and what they could do to her, what they had done to her.

He frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Taking a good, long look,” she said, her voice soft because that’s as much as she could manage. “You know, in case I never see you again.”

“Marina—”

“It’s okay. I knew what this was.”

He scowled. “Oh, really? And what’s that?”

He was annoyed. Good.

She cleared her throat, fought against the churning emotion she didn’t have a handle on, not yet. “I caught you off-guard.”

“No one catches me off guard,” he shot back.

Right.

“You let me in for a split second, Roarke—each and every time—but I always knew there was a chance it wouldn’t be any longer than that.”

* * * * *

 

God, who could have known? Fast, angry sex with Marina was just as unsatisfying as solo shower sex. Almost.

Roarke scrubbed a hand down over his face. She’d been through a traumatic experience and what had he done? He’d yelled at her for fucks sake. She’d been sheet white and he’d yelled at her. Shit, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d lost control enough to raise his voice. And then he’d fucked her senseless up against his bathroom wall.

Not his best moment.

He knew what he should have done. He should have grabbed her and held on and not let go. Except there were no do-overs.

Damn. He’d let her walk. He’d needed time, time to realize she was really safe, time to get his fucking head together, time to figure out how he was going to undo all of it because right this moment he still had no clue.

Yeah, he’d made a mess of pretty much everything.

He forced himself to knock before he chickened out and he might have, except the door opened right away.

His stomach clenched. Of course. It figured. Where else would he be?

“Daniels,” Jake drawled.

“Evans,” Roarke bit out.

Raine gave Jake a warning glare before nudging him aside.

“Roarke, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, sure, I just… Can I come in?”

“Of course.”

Roarke shoved his hands in his pockets and waited while Raine closed the door.

She was frowning. “What’s going on, Roarke?”

“I—I have something I need to say, something to tell you.”

Raine glanced at Jake and then back to him. “Okay.”

Her voice was wary. He didn’t blame her. He’d given her nothing but a tough time for a long time now.

“I’ll leave you guys to it then,” Jake murmured, giving him a hard look. It was a warning, plain and simple and Roarke got it loud and clear. He wouldn’t have expected anything less from him because he knew without a doubt Jake would always put Raine first, that she was his priority no matter what.

“No,” Roarke forced out. “Stay. You should hear this too.”

It was right. Fair. God, he owed Jake more than he could ever express, not that he’d ever tried, but before today he might not have realized just how much.

“God, spit it out, Roarke,” Raine demanded. “You’re scaring me.”

Yeah, he was scaring himself right now.

He walked to Raine and put his hands on her shoulders, tried to ignore the churn in his gut. He looked her square in the eye because he wanted her to know he was dead serious, that he meant every word.

“Roarke,” she warned.

“I was wrong and I’m sorry.”

There. He’d said it. He might have gotten it out, but his gut was still twisted in fucking knots.

She was still frowning. “About what?”

Yeah, they both knew he probably had a fuck load to apologize for.

“The whole situation with Lambert. I played it all wrong.” He swallowed back the thickness in his throat. “I’m sorry, Raine.”

God, this was way harder than he imagined. In fact, it sucked.

“I know you did what you thought was right. That you were just trying to protect me.”

Just like Raine. He knew she understood, that she’d always forgiven him for anything. Well, he wouldn’t let himself off the hook that easily, even if his intentions had been good.

“No, I kept something from you when I shouldn’t have. I thought keeping the fact that Lambert was still stalking you was protecting you. It wasn’t. I put you in danger because of it. Christ, I knew he was dangerous and I arrogantly assumed I could run interference, that eventually he’d lose interest. I was one hundred percent wrong.”

He glanced over to Jake. “And if I was in your shoes? I would have done the exact same thing you did. I know that now. I never would have let a threat go on indefinitely. Never. I rode your ass hard about it and I apologize.”

Jake frowned “Well, shit.”

“Roarke,” Raine sighed and stepped into him. He closed his arms around her, held her against him.

“Also?” he murmured against her hair.

She pulled back. “Yes?”

He inclined his head toward Jake, knew he’d hear him. “I do like him.”

The truth was Roarke respected the hell out of him. Always had.

She smiled. “I know.”

Jake held out his hand when Roarke turned to go. “I like this side of you.”

Roarke put his hand against Jake’s, clasped hard, nodded at what was offered, given.

“And what side would that be?” he muttered.

Jake’s mouth kicked up at one corner. “The groveling side.”

“Yeah?” He swallowed, because this was nothing compared to what he still needed to do. “This was just the warm up.”

Christ, he felt as if he was on some twelve-step program for recovering assholes.