Page 98 of Rogue

I’m speechless but manage a nod.

“I’m a physical guy—”

“If that isn’t an understatement.”

He grins. “You’re better at putting your feelings to words.”

“Are you kidding me? Hello, Jaxson. Meet Kylie.” I shake his hand.

“There. That’s settled. Now back to business.” I squeal as he grabs me by the hips, flips me onto my belly, and stretches out half on me, half beside me. “I missed you, fireball. Tonight and every night going forward, it’s you and me.” He nuzzles my cheek, then whispers in my ear words I’ll forever hold dear.

“I love you, Kylie. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

26

Shelby

“How about we test things out?” Jaxson says, nonchalantly, like we’re preparing for a dance audition instead of a hit.

Veronica won’t want to let him go.

No woman would—least of all me.

I roll my eyes as he takes my hand and leads me into a motel room on the east side of Shelby. A quiet, frequently overlooked little place on the outskirts of town. Perfect accommodations for ridding this town of its most dangerous visitor.

Revenge is a long time coming.

Jaxson begins our practice session, showing me how he likes to get a feel for his environment, counting steps from the door to the bed, the window, the bathroom. How to use the space. Monitor my movements. Make the room “my friend,” meaning assessing what’s on hand to turn the simplest items, like the complimentary comb by the bathroom sink, into a weapon. How to mentally and physically prepare for a battle. This whole process takes a half hour, tops. Then he shoots me the grin of all panty-wetting grins, a naughty, you’re-in-trouble-now grin, causing my heart to do a tango and my vagina to do a happy dance.

“Time to practice,” he informs me.

“I thought we just did?”

“That, fireball, is foreplay.” My eyes grow wide as he begins to strip. First, flexing his muscles as he removes the baby-blue polo shirt that turns his eyes into lady-killers. He kicks off his shoes, black Nikes, then the same-colored socks.

“A fashion faux pas, black sneakers with black socks.” But I don’t mind . . . I really, really don’t mind, not with the way he’s looking at me, like I’m in for a real naughty treat. Oh yeah.

“Hides bloodstains better,” he says, practical and unconcerned by his sock selection.

I stare at his feet. Sexy, with perfectly formed toes. Is there any part of him that doesn’t turn me on?

He’s worn a belt on his dark chino pants, which he casually slides free, then coils the fine leather around his wrist.

“Another weapon,” I comment.

“Or . . . foreplay.” He snaps the belt. It makes a hissing sound in the air next to my ear as the end whizzes by me and nips at the mattress. “Rough can be pleasurable.”

I swallow, slightly afraid, highly aroused. “I’ll remember your words when you’re in my mouth.”

“Maybe I’ll use this belt to tie your hands behind your body and watch you squirm as I go down on your sweet pussy.”

Jesus.

He unbuttons his pants.

He unzips his fly.

The belt dangles from his steady grip.