Page 21 of Rogue

This time, I do as he says. And voilà, it hits direct center. Still, it’s just an undefined, imaginary mark I’m aiming at. Not the real deal. Not Jaxson.

“Bet the bitch will get the shits this time,” Ball-Busted says as the men amble over and huddle up for this circus sideshow. Da da dah dah . . .

“You’re looking a bit parched. How about some water? Or maybe another kick in the balls?” I shoot back.

Ball-Busted steps toward me, but then his eyes widen on the man next to me and he pauses, then turns and hurries away.

“I can fight my own battles,” I snap, my nerves getting the best of me.

“Honey, if you could fight your own battles, you wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“He talks,” I mutter, more for my own sanity than for his benefit. Declan stalks off, leaving me to my misery.

By the time Hayden arrives, he looks positively livid.

Jaxson saunters up behind him, acting like this is some big inside joke, and goes to stand in place with his back to the barn. Folding his arms across his body. Spreading his legs. Giving me that sly, sexy smirk of his that makes everything seem okay even when it’s not.

The last of the men gather around. A nervous excitement fills the air. Eager to be entertained at Jaxson’s and my expense. Blood-hungry despite a tough afternoon slicing and dicing in the war ring. Boys will be boys, right.

Aim straight on and you’ll miss his handsome face.

“Let’s get this charade over with,” Hayden snaps. Pissed off at Jaxson, there’s no doubt about it. “No spreading them. I want your legs a hand’s width apart.”

For a second, I think he’s correcting my stance on the X. But when I catch Jaxson’s smirk drop, I know otherwise.

What the hell is going on now?

A couple men laugh.

Someone says, “Let’s see if he can still get it up afterward.”

Another man adds, “My money says yes. That stud has fucked more women than anyone I know. A natural. A thoroughbred.”

“Yeah, funny how a woman is going to put an end to that.”

Jesus. My eyes narrow on the stud with his back to the barn. A certified man-whore. Even though Iknoweverything about him screamswomen magnetfrom his smug lover-boy smile to those big feet of his, it’s different to hear the men actually confirm it.

“I’ll try not to knick your cheek or nail you in the throat. Seems I’ll have every woman from Oklahoma to Okinawa after me if I mar that handsome lover-boy face of yours.”

The men around us laugh.

“You missed the change in plans, fireball.”

Hayden steps forward. “We’re wasting time. You’ve got one throw.”

“One?” Thank God. As much as I suddenly would like to end the smooth-talking playboy’s ways . . .

I aim the knife’s tip toward his forehead.

“Lower,” Jaxson mutters.

“Lower?”

“Between the legs. He’s going to think long and hard the next time he negotiates with me.”

I stiffen. Oh no. This is insane. And damn it. Now where do I aim? Scanning the crowed, I search the crowd for Declan, who gives me the nod yes to the question written all over my face.

When I turn back to face Jaxson, I gasp. He’s kicked off his basketball shorts and is standing before me—us—in cotton briefs. Oh bloody hell, are they tight. Form-hugging. Leaving nothing to the imagination.