The Renegade (The Rockwell Legacy Book 3)

by Jennifer Bernard

  Lyle had endless patience, clearly. Every stroke of his tongue told her so. “I can do this forever,” it seemed to say. “This is my favorite thing to do and I have no intention of stopping until you come like you’ve never come before.”

  She threw her head back and gave a choked laugh—so funny, the bizarre thoughts that floated through your head when you were this close to an orgasm.

  He didn’t stop to ask her what was so funny. He seemed to know she was hurtling down the last curve of the roller coaster, ready to zoom off the end into something glorious. He released one of her thighs and worked a finger inside her until it hooked against a certain spot that made her jump.

  At the same time, he kept his mouth on her sex, working his tongue through her tender folds, stoking that fire hotter and hotter.

  And still she was waiting for something, some trigger, some extra point of pressure that would send her off into rocket land. He was keeping her there, right there on the edge, building the friction until she wanted to scream.

  “Please…” she tried again. A hoarse whisper this time. “Lyle, this is me screaming.”

  She felt the vibration of his laugh against her sex, and then—there it was. That magic touch—a knuckle, a thumb, a pinch, she didn’t know exactly what it was—but the orgasm exploded through her like a neutron bomb. He maintained that delicious contact even though she bucked against him, pressing and rubbing, sending more and more waves of ecstasy rocking through every corner of her being.

  She clapped her hand over her mouth to muffle the scream she couldn’t stop.

  Her climax kept going, barely losing any intensity as the waves swept through her. He stayed with her every step of the way, wringing every last spasm of joy from her body.

  Finally, the rush of pleasure slowed and she came drifting down like a feather on an air current. He flipped her over so she once again lay on top of him.

  She liked that flip. She liked being on top of him. She liked being under him too. Basically, she liked being with him, any which way.

  She relaxed on top of Lyle’s long body as if it were the best body pillow in the world. She purred in pleasure as he stroked her back with his fingertips.

  “My gosh, Lyle,” she murmured. “Holy mackerel. That’s what we could have been doing ever since Rome? Why didn’t you talk some sense into me?”

  “I thought I had.” The vibration of his voice in his chest gave her sensitized nipples another tweak of arousal. “I guess it was the wrong kind of sense.”

  “No. It worked out perfectly. If we’d done this back then it might have been weird because we didn’t know each other. It’s different now.”

  She shifted her position so her upper thigh nudged his erection.

  “Hmm.” His chest rumbled again. The swell of his penis made her purr again. “Whatever you say.”

  She scooted down his body so her cheek was pressed against the bulge in his pants. Slowly, she drew down the fabric to reveal the rearing member underneath. It curved upwards, as if seeking her mouth. She obliged with a quick swipe of her tongue across its wide head.

  He groaned and tangled his fingers in his hair. “Got to warn you, I don’t have a ton of self-control at the moment.”

  “Oh really? What happened to it? I thought you were the master of going slow.” She teased him with another pass of her tongue across his flesh.

  “I was. I am. Was.”

  “You sound a little confused.”

  “That’s one word for it.” His voice was thick with desire, tension radiating from his body. She wrapped her mouth over the head of his erection. It pressed against her tongue, thick and eager. Ready.

  And there it came—another flip. Laughing and winded, she landed on her back. He braced himself over her. “I love how you do that,” she murmured. “It’s like an amusement park ride.”

  “A ride? Should I be insulted?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Look, Isabelle, I figure we have about ten minutes, if we’re lucky, before someone brings Tigger back. And I want to be deep inside you while I have the chance.”

  “Okay, one second. Let me out, I have to do something.” She wriggled out from under him and skipped across the room to the door. She dropped the latch she’d installed back in high school, when Jake used to play pranks on her. Then she rummaged in the top drawer of her desk. Finally she found what she was looking for, a bright yellow packet with a smiley face on it.

  She held it up. “How long do condoms last, do you—?” She lost track of her words as Lyle swung his legs over the edge of the bed then stood up to remove his hoodie. Each magnificent muscle of his body flexed as he worked.

  “Is that left over from high school?” he asked.

  Shaking herself back to the task at hand, she peered at the packet, looking for fine print somewhere. “Yes. They handed them out in health class. I honestly had no use for them back then. Do they have expiration dates?”

  He burst out laughing. “Can’t answer that, but I damn sure don’t want to trust a twenty-year-old condom.”

  “It hasn’t been that long, but you have a point.” She flipped it onto the desk and walked back to the bed, his eyes following her with appreciation.

  “I like how comfortable you are walking around naked,” he told her.

  “Mom used to say I’m a natural nudist. It was a battle making me put clothes on in the summertime, until about the age of six. The key was when she got me a swimming suit that I liked and told me I could run through the sprinklers whenever I wanted.”

  He stepped out of his sweats and straightened to his full height. Her breath left her body as she took in the stunning array of muscles and scars that stood before her. “Are all those injuries from the boxing ring?”

  “Mostly. A couple are from fights in the real world. Once guys know you’re a fighter, there’s always someone who wants to see if they can hold their own against you.”

  “Could they?” She came within a foot of him, so she could trace the scar that wrapped around his rib cage.

  “Not normally, no. But sometimes.”

  She swept her fingertips along his hipbone. Every sinew and muscle group was so honed and taut. “Do you miss fighting?”

  “Hell no. I’m only a fighter out of necessity. I never loved it. It was survival for me.”

  “You did more than survive, I’d say.”

  “Did I? I don’t know.” He took her hand and placed it on his penis. “Financially, sure. Outside of that, I couldn’t say.”

  She wrapped her hand around him, watching his eyes half close. “Lyle. Lyle the Pile. I have a question for you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you happen to have a pile of condoms somewhere?”

  17

  Lyle’s cock was throbbing so hard he was sure he was going to come all over Isabelle’s hand. She was so utterly sexy standing there before him, stark naked in the light of dawn, which was now taking on a delicate pink shade that made her skin glow.

  “Yeah, I do actually. Back in my guesthouse.”

  “Crap. Should we streak over there?”

  He laughed painfully as she stroked him lightly. “Nah. I’ll wait until we have clothes on.”

  “We could put on our clothes and make a run for it.”

  “Sweetheart, I’m good. I just want to be here with you. I don’t need to come. I’ll get my chance.”

  “Just one chance?” Her circling hand had such a light, fresh touch. The curve of her lips was pure temptation. “That’s not very optimistic. I hope it’s not the Last Chance.”

  “Funny.” He gritted his teeth against the pleasure gathering in the base of his spine. He wanted to make love to her properly, get her back into bed, push her legs back and plunge deep. But this was good too, facing each other naked in the morning light. He admired the satisfied, soft curve of her lips, and loved knowing that he had put that look there. “Pretty sure you’re trying to kill me right now.”

  “Oh no, I want
you alive and ready for action.”

  “I’m two for two, then.”

  Her smile widened as she continued to stroke his cock.

  He gave himself one more moment to soak in the sensation of her touch, then picked her up bodily and set her away from him. “I don’t want to come in your hand like a teenager. I want to do this right.”

  “I get it, but what if we don’t get another opportunity? I don’t know how long I’m going to have Tigger. It’s kind of day by day right now.”

  “We’ll find a way,” he told her firmly. “We’re both smart, creative people, how hard could it be to find ten minutes alone?”

  “Ten minutes?” Her face fell comically, making him laugh.

  “Too short? We can negotiate. How’s ten days?”

  He pulled on his sweats, carefully avoiding the cock that still surged like a goddamn iron rod between his legs. “Easy, boy,” he told it lightly. “No need to go all crazy here.”

  Footsteps sounded down the hall. Isabelle’s eyes widened and she dove for her clothes. Quickly she pulled on jeans and the nearest sweater from her closet. He located his hoodie and zipped it up. Willing his erection to subside, he clasped his hands in front of him, then stepped behind Isabelle’s chair instead. She’d probably had the thing since elementary school, as it barely reached his waist and did almost nothing to hide his bulge.

  Luckily, something else grabbed Serena and Gracie’s attention after Isabelle lifted the latch and opened the door to them. They both stopped in their tracks, staring at the sweater Isabelle was wearing.

  “Already in the Christmas spirit, I see.” Serena smirked. She held a smiling, bundled-up Tigger in her arms.

  Lyle peered at her sweater and snorted. A conga line of reindeer marched across the crimson wool of her sweater, each one humping the one before it.

  Gracie crowed and pointed to the deer. “Wait, I remember this! I bought it for you when I was like, eight, and I had no idea what the reindeer were actually doing. No one wanted to explain it to me.”

  “Yup. The good news is that I’m a doctor now and I can definitely fill you in on reindeer reproductive methods. Here, hand him over.”

  Isabelle took Tigger eagerly. He kicked his feet and gazed up at her as if she were an angel stepping down from heaven just to take care of him. “There you are, little guy. I missed you. If only I’d known a nice nap would be the ticket.” She shot Lyle an intimate, secret kind of look. He liked that look. He liked it a lot. “Thank you, Lyle. For everything.”

  “My pleasure.”

  From the quick knowing glance exchanged by Gracie and Serena, they weren’t fooled for a second.

  18

  On Christmas Eve, Lyle placed his last Skype call of the year to Amira. She planned to take the rest of the year off, and for once in his life, so did he.

  “So I guess you’re staying right where you are for Christmas. Any close encounters under the mistletoe?” Amira was practically bouncing with glee back in the Guero Enterprises branch office in New York. Behind her, he could see tinsel draping her office door and a Happy Diwali banner left from November.

  “Looks like you’re celebrating Christmas Eve in style.”

  “Hindu-style.” She smiled. “Lucky for you, as a Hindu, I am willing to entertain a Christmas Eve Skype call. What would you do without me?”

  “Don’t make me contemplate that, please. Let’s go through our checklist. I have an eggnog fiesta that I’m already late to.”

  “Eggnog?” She made a face. “That is one aspect of Christmas that I cannot support. Is it mandatory?”

  “No, that part’s optional. At least in most places. The Rockwells seem to take it pretty seriously. Okay, down to business. Anything new on Drew?”

  Her lively face sobered. “Something very fishy is going on, Lyle. I’m hearing hints of legal referrals. The board of directors is not happy. You know how they feel about controversy.”

  “Yeah, I picked up on the same thing during my meetings in Seattle. No one would come out and say it though. I’ve been thinking, Amira—well…I have to wonder if Drew managed to find something on my real parentage.”

  Amira’s eyebrows rose nearly to her hairline. “Real parentage? But you’ve never wanted to know that.”

  “True. It doesn’t matter to me. I think Drew’s full of shit. What could he possibly have dug up that would make any difference?”

  “I have no idea, quite frankly. Why don’t you ask him?”

  Lyle turned that idea over in his mind. “I could call him, I suppose. Don’t know that it would do anything. Listen, Amira, I had a thought.”

  This thought had been percolating ever since Isabelle had shot down his spur-of-the-moment proposal.

  “Obviously I’m doing what the board wanted. No big decisions until this gets decided. But I thought of something they can’t object to. The year-end charity campaign.”

  “Yes, it’s underway. All the usual suspects are getting donations. ”

  “I want you to switch it up. Double the budget. Draw up a list of worthy organizations in need of emergency funds. Groups that support kids, school lunches, Fresh Air fund, environmental groups. Throw in Reach Your Peak, which is Griffin’s new project. Doctors Without Borders. Make all the donations anonymous.”

  “Then what’s the PR benefit?”

  “None.”

  “So you’re playing Robin Hood with your own money?”

  “If they’re going to kick me to the curb, I want my last executive decision to spread a little wealth.”

  Amira leaned forward, peering into the camera. “But you’re a Grinch when it comes to Christmas. Have you already started with the eggnog?”

  “Maybe I’ve seen the light and I’m making up for lost time.” Or maybe it was Isabelle’s influence. But he didn’t plan to go into details.

  She snorted, clearly not buying it for a second. “Once a Grinch, always a Grinch.”

  “Not true. Even the Grinch wasn’t always a Grinch.”

  “Okay, fine. I’ll come up with a list for you. What about the Amira Thomson Survival Fund? Does that count?”

  He laughed. “Draw up a mission statement and we’ll talk.”

  Amira made a show of adjusting her computer screen. “Is that a smile I see on Lyle Guero’s handsome but brooding face? Has the Grinch had a conversion?”

  “I can change my mind—”

  “No, no. I take it back. I love this idea. Oh—one more thing before we hang up. Someone came here asking about your current location.”

  “Someone who? Did you get their name?”

  “He flashed some kind of badge that I immediately knew was fake. I said that you were traveling and that I couldn’t say precisely where you were, but I took his business card. I called the number on it and reached a voice mail with no name. The whole thing was very shady.”

  Lyle’s jaw tightened as he listened to her story.

  “I don’t like this, Amira. I don’t want you putting yourself in any kind of danger. If he comes back, get me on the phone right away and I’ll talk to him. If it comes down to it, go ahead and tell him where I am.”

  “You’re the boss,” she said with a disapproving sniff. “But if Drew Clayton sent him and he has some nefarious purpose, what then?”

  “Then I deal with it. Me, not you. Got it?”

  “Yes. I understand. Be on your guard, okay, boss? If you die, I’ll be stuck with Mr. Clayton and we wouldn’t get along at all.”

  “Merry Christmas to you, too,” he said dryly. “I’ll try to stay alive, if only to spare you from working for Drew.”

  “Thank you. Now back to my original question about the mistletoe—”

  “Goodbye, Amira,” he said firmly. “We’ll talk again in the new year. Enjoy your time off.”

  He ended the Skype call before she could ask any more questions. Amira had the sharpest eyes of anyone he knew. She was his secret weapon in business meetings; between the two of them, they always managed to f
igure out what the competition was up to. He wasn’t at all surprised that she’d won a face-off with some bully with a fake badge.

  But he couldn’t have that happening again.

  Steeling himself for an ugly conversation, he called Drew on his cell phone, the one he’d put triple security on to keep its location from being pinpointed.

  “My long-lost brother,” Drew answered.

  Lyle’s jaw tightened. “Don’t bother my people again, Drew. If you have a question for me, come to me.”

  “What are you talking about, man? It’s Christmas. Relax. You should come back and say hi to your family. Give the Scrooge act a rest.”

  Lyle heard the slurring in Drew’s voice—maybe he was the one getting into the eggnog.

  “Grinch, not Scrooge. Get it right.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Doesn’t matter. If you want to come at me, go for it. But leave my employees alone. You deal with me or my lawyers. That’s it. You got it?”

  “They’re not really your employees. I’m gonna win this, Lyle. Gonna be CEO. Me, not you.”

  Damn, he sounded buzzed. Perfect chance to get him to talk.

  “Drew, let’s just level with each other. I never saw you as an enemy. Think of how much money we’ve made together. Let’s work this out, my brother.”

  “Playing rope-a-dope, like the old days? Nah, dude. I’m good.”

  Time to move in for a jab. “What’re you telling the board about me, Drew?”

  “That I’d be a better CEO than Lyle fucking Guero.”

  Apparently Drew wasn’t quite drunk enough to spill the beans.

  Lyle walked into the second bedroom and glared at his punching bag. As soon as he got off the phone he was going to spend some quality time with that thing. Between business frustration and sexual frustration, he needed the release.

  But first, he had one more tactic to try.

  “You’re jealous, aren’t you? I was never supposed to outdo you. I was supposed to stay in my lane. I had the fists, you had the funds. And then I turned all that upside down and you can’t handle it, so you’re trying to take me down, like a petty kid.”