Page 38 of Rogue

“Almost. Sweet Mary . . .”

“No. They’re coming. Footsteps.” He winks at me, rolling his thumb once again over my sensitive hood while his fingers plunge into me and withdraw. Once. Twice. Three times. Until my body is shaking with need.

I jerk at the sound of a voice close by. “The trail Jaxson left behind was goddamn amateurish. Like he wants us to find him. He’s around here somewhere.”

My eyebrows lift high enough to touch the tree overhead.

His smirk is full of mischief.

And, holy sweet Mary, if his tongue is anything like his fingers . . . I clamp my lips shut, holding back my moan. Yes, oh yes.

“Check around.”

No, oh no.

“Over here,” someone shouts at the same time I arch my hips toward Jaxson and pray that the mewing sound going off in my head doesn’t work its way out of my mouth.

I struggle to keep quiet, to still my movements, to not give us away. And I curse Jaxson for putting me in this situation, for masterfully bringing me to the edge, to make me want to shout out my climax, only to have to dig deep not to do so.

My eyes meet his, and without my making a sound, I crest. My pleasure clear as day in what has to be the most blissful expression known to womankind. Which, I silently gasp, is reflected in the hottest look known to mankind that crosses over his face.

Sweet mother of God. This man is going to be the death of me.

“That was fucking beautiful.”

I blush. “Shhh. They’ll hear you.”

“They’re gone, off on a wild-goose chase. I ran ahead and planted a few less-than-subtle trail marks. Still, we better head back.” He removes his hand from beneath my sweatpants, shifts my leg off his thigh, and rolls out from beneath the tree. I squeeze my eyes shut, briefly, disbelieving what I’ve just done, then slide out after him.

He offers me a hand up.

“You’re insane,” I mumble.

“And you’re beautiful.”

What can I say to that? I turn my attention to brushing off the leaves and mulch clinging to my body. “You’re a trained Marine so why are you even in Hell Camp?” I ask, more curious about him than ever—yeah, now that he’s fingered me. What a hussy . . . my cheeks heat at the thought. Still, it doesn’t make sense, him participating in training when he could, for all intents and purposes, be teaching the drill instructor a thing or two about training. Keeping quiet under pressure—yep, we can check that off the mastered-that list.

“Hayden has his own ideas about what’s important.”

“But five times? Is this typical?”

Jaxson shakes his head. “Let’s just say he hasn’t warmed up to me yet. Thinks I need more lessons in humility.”

I nod with understanding, which causes Jaxson to chuckle.Five Hell Camps.The thought is shocking and makes me wonder how many men Hayden’s trained. How many are running loose on the streets of Shelby?

“So there are other mercenaries out there?”

“Executing Hayden’s orders? Yep.”

Jesus. TORC is much bigger than I figured. And the reasons for my recruitment seem more ambiguous than ever. After all, what can I offer that these other highly trained men can’t?

“I’ll take care of you,” Jaxson tells me.

“Why would you do that?”

“I like you.”

“Youlikeme?” So much for a declaration of love. Or lust—even.