Page 26 of The Rogue (Four Corners Ranch #11)

For a full thirty seconds all he could hear was buzzing in his ears. Because there was no way, there was no fucking way she had just said that to him.

Not when he was trying to keep ahold of himself. Not when he was trying to keep his baser self from winning when he had no

real experience with that. He wanted this to stay in the darkest, deepest part of himself and now she’d gone and said that .

“I... I absolutely will not,” he said.

“Why not? You have sex with everything that moves.”

“Not you,” he gritted.

“Because I’m not good enough?”

She was too good.

“No. No. That’s not it. That’s not why.”

She kept talking, and he needed time. He needed time to let what she had just said settle inside of him, but there was no

time, because she just kept going, all drunken fury and boldness courtesy of the shots she had taken and her very low alcohol

tolerance. And he was... he was all fucking done.

“I do not... No. Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“You’re drunk,” he said.

“You’ve never had sex with a drunk girl?”

“Not when I was sober .” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s get one thing straight. If I’m going to make a bad decision, it’s going to be

when both parties are on equal footing.”

“So get drunk then. Take a couple of shots and have me. It doesn’t mean anything to you, you know that it doesn’t. You go

and sleep with all these random women, but you won’t do it with me?”

“No. I won’t,” he said.

“But that doesn’t make any sense, unless there’s something wrong with me. Unless there’s something so repulsive about me that

not even notorious man-whore Justice King will have me.”

“No,” he said. “That’s not it.”

“But it doesn’t mean anything to you.”

“But it means something to you.” The words were raw, scraping up his throat, and he was pretty sure that meant that they were

the right response. The right excuse. The right way to react to the situation that kept on speeding by him at a rate that

meant he couldn’t quite grab hold of the train car.

Couldn’t find his rhythm.

“It means something to you,” he repeated. “You don’t have sex with random people. You don’t have sex just for the hell of

it. You’re right. I have done that. I do that. But I can’t... Knowing what it means to you, I can’t.”

It occurred to him then that they were standing outside of Smokey’s bar yelling at each other about sex.

That everybody was probably listening, because they knew who they were.

Because that was just the kind of small town that it was.

He was outraged. Offended. He couldn’t quite untangle all the reasons why, because he was still philosophically living in that first moment when she had asked him to do it, and everything after that only had about half of himself involved.

“Let’s go.”

“No,” she said. “I want to go back inside.”

She turned to go back that way.

Absolutely not. This was ending. Now.

“Like hell,” he said, bending down and gripping her by the legs, before pitching her up over his shoulder.

“Justice King!” she shouted, and hit him on the back with a tiny fist. “You set me down.”

He walked her to the truck, opened the door and dumped her inside. There was a man standing next to the front of the bar who

lifted the beer bottle in Justice’s direction as if he approved. As if he thought that Justice might be taking home a girl

that was that drunk. That he was heaving her into his truck so he could have his way with her, and he was congratulating Justice not punching

him.

“You’re a jackass,” Justice shouted at him. “I hope your ass gets arrested.”

The guy looked startled, then melted back into the bar.

Asshole.

He got into the truck with Rue and turned the engine over.

“If you think I’m disgusting then just say it,” she said, her voice watery.

Fucking hell.

“You are gonna go home and you’re gonna sleep this off. And you’re gonna realize that you are way out of line,” he said, speaking through tightly gritted teeth.

As much to her as to himself.

“Why?” she said, her lower lip sticking out.

“First of all, you sound like a little kid having a damned tantrum, Rue, and that isn’t you. If you don’t understand why I’m

not going to take you up on your offer when you’re in this kind of state then I don’t know what to tell you.”

“I’m not in a state. I’m furious . I’m humiliated . And you can’t have it both ways. You can’t try to control who I have sex with when you don’t want to do it with me.”

“Did I say I didn’t want to do it?” That burned even worse than the last thing he’d said. “I said I wasn’t going to. I gave you a damned good reason.”

Thank God they were close to Four Corners. Just... thank God. Because he really couldn’t deal with her right now, and he

needed to off-load her little ass into her own bed.

She had no response to that. Thank God. She was quiet and that was what he needed. But then she shifted, and spoke in a small

voice.

“I don’t understand what your problem is.”

“I don’t understand what your problem is,” he shot back. “You are being a little pill. And someday, you’re going to be grateful that I intervened. Because

you don’t actually want those guys. You don’t want anything they were after. Let me tell you something about bar guys, okay?

If they’re never going to see you again, they don’t give a shit how good the sex is. All right?”

“Is that your way of telling me you actually suck in bed?”

“I don’t suck in bed,” he said. “Because call me old-fashioned, but I don’t see the point in getting laid if my partner’s not having

an even better time than I am. I get off on that, Ruby. Not that it’s any of your business. I want the girl to be having fun.

If she’s not screaming something , probably not my name because the chances are she doesn’t know it, it isn’t a good time. But most of those guys? It just isn’t how they are.

You have to be realistic about that.”

She... flailed next to him, her fist hitting the door, her rage palpable.

“I don’t have to do a damn thing. And you know what, maybe it’s not even about having an orgasm. Maybe it’s just about feeling

beautiful. Do you know how good that felt? To have two guys fighting over me? Do you know many times that’s happened in my

life? Basically never. Maybe for me that’s all I need. Maybe it’s just as good.”

“Spoken like a woman who hasn’t had very many orgasms.”

He regretted that the minute it came out of his mouth. This was too dangerous tonight. Too dangerous with where his mind was

at.

“I’ve had enough,” she groused.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Rue,” he said, right as they pulled up to the dirt road that would take them to King’s Crest. He chose that moment to slam his brakes on, the tires sliding over the gravel as the truck came to a very abrupt halt.

“If I did have sex with you, we wouldn’t be done until you’d come at least three times.

At least. Maybe even more, because we’ve got time to make up for, from the sounds of it.

First, I’d touch you until you were shaking.

Until you were begging. And then I’d let you have one .

Just to be nice. Then I’d lick you until you told me to stop, so you were crying and shaking with it. Then I’d do it again.

And then... Only then would I give you what you really wanted. After that was done, you would never tell me again that

you didn’t care about having an orgasm. And you’d never tell any other man that either. You’d expect it. Because you’d know how it was supposed to feel. You understand me?”

He was breathing hard, and it wasn’t the only thing that was hard.

Hell .

He needed to get ahold of himself. He had made a big mistake saying that. But he couldn’t find any regret in his whole body.

She had pushed him to this point, so she was going to get honesty. He was going to prove to her that she didn’t want it. Not

really.

The way she was staring, all wide-eyed... And then she doubled over and threw up. Somehow, on his cowboy boots.

For. God’s. Sake.

She had just pushed him to his limit. Then she vomited on his shoes.

“You are so drunk ,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice small and miserable.

“You silly little rabbit,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she said, wailing.

He started driving again, taking them to the house.

When they got there, he stepped out of the truck and kicked his boots off.

Then he went over to her side of the vehicle and opened the door, unbuckling her and hefting her out, holding her like she was a baby, rather than a sack of potatoes like he’d done earlier.

“I’m going to put you to bed.”

“I’m not tired,” she said, sounding petulant now.

“You’re a mess is what you are, Ruby Matthews.” Right then, in the middle of all the anger, and all of the discomfort, something

softened in his chest. Because Rue had never been a mess. And here she was, just a whole registered disaster.

“I’m going to tuck you in and then I’ve got to deal with the truck,” he said.

“No,” she said, wiggling, her body soft, enticing. He was ignoring all that. Because everything that had just happened was

too many things, and he was just going to have to process all of it once he had actually dealt with her.

He kept a firm hold on her and got them through the front door, then carried her straight into her bedroom. She looked at

the bed, then at him, her eyes wide.

“Oh, you’re safe from me. I’m going to drop you here. You probably need to go brush your teeth, though, but I have a truck

to clean. I’ll see you in the morning.”

That was how he left her. He just wished he could turn off his own brain quite that easily.

Because what he hadn’t meant to do was dirty-talk his best friend quite so well that it was all he could think about. All he could picture. What

he hadn’t meant to do was get this far into the whole thing. Get this deep.

The problem was, he could imagine it all too well.

And he had never wanted to. He had never let himself get this far.

Yes, he had noticed she was beautiful. Yes, he had moments where that had felt a little more intense than he would like.

But he had never let himself imagine it. He had never let himself get close.

Thank God she’d thrown up on him. It had been the reminder he needed that he was turning her down for a reason.

By the time he was finished cleaning the truck up at last he was exhausted. And when he went into the house Rue’s bedroom

light was off. Everything was quiet.

With any luck she wouldn’t remember everything that happened tonight.

And he was left with some pretty uncomfortable truths. About himself. About her.

He didn’t want to think of it like he was standing at a fork in the road. He wanted to stay on the same road. He didn’t want

to feel like he was on the verge of change. Like they were. It just wasn’t what he wanted. But it was the only image he saw.

The only thing that seemed real. That there were decisions to make. Decisions he didn’t want to make. No. There were no decisions

to make. Tonight she had been drunk. Tonight she had been...

She would want to go out again. Eventually, there would be some other guy. And he would have to decide what he thought about

that guy. He would have to surrender her to someone all over again...

That was a hell of a thought. Like she was his. Except it felt like she was. It damned well did.

Asher had been safe in a way. Because the guy had let Rue and him have their relationship. He had been there, and more or less he hadn’t disrupted them. He’d been in the military. He’d been distant a lot of the time, and Justice had been able to keep his claim on Rue because of that.

Well. What about a new guy? Would he be jealous of Rue and Justice?

And Asher was crap in bed. So what about if she met a new guy who made her feel more? Who made her feel everything?

No. He didn’t need to think about that. Not now. He wouldn’t. Tonight had been an aberration. And there was no point digging

into his feelings about the whole thing. Tomorrow she would be sober, and everything would be clearer.

Tomorrow, he would just act like nothing had happened.

Because he refused to go down this damned fork in the road.

They had been through too much to let something like this change them.

He would be damned.