Renegade

by Lora Leigh

  Nik stared back at Deirdre as though in surprise. "I tend to believe the punching bag. They rarely get used without reason."

  Mikayla's heart melted. It was totally illogical, but he wasn't laughing at her, and he wasn't questioning her honesty.

  "There you are, a smart man." Deirdre waved her hand toward Nik as she stared back at Mikayla, satisfaction filling her gaze. "Now, if you don't show up for that steak, then I'm gonna."

  Deirdre bounced from the desk at the sound of the bell tinkling once again. Nik straightened and stepped into the office. Deirdre got as far as the doorway and froze and Mikayla could have sworn she whimpered.

  Mikayla knew who it was. Deirdre turned to Mikayla, her expression filled with pity. "Can I have the day off?" she asked as Mikayla's father and brothers stepped into the store.

  Dread filled Mikayla. "Can I?"

  Nik was standing on the back deck of the rented house, the grill heating, steaks lying on the small grill ledge, as he heard the gate between the two properties squeak as it opened.

  He restrained a grin.

  He'd left that shop that morning just after giving her father the details of the night before. First, Nik had been required to show ID and subject himself to an in-depth interrogation on why he was there and how long he was staying and even provide references. They were references Nik had no doubt Mr. Martin would call. The man was extremely protective of his only daughter, and the three young men with him had been almost as intense. There was no doubt Mikayla was well cherished by her family.

  She had humored them, though there had been desperation in her gaze as she looked at Nik. A plea to rescue her as her family descended upon her. He'd been amused, he had to admit. A part of that amusement had been overshadowed by grief, though. He would have been just as protective of his own daughter. Seeing Ramsey Martin's fear and love for his child had sent a shaft of guilt tearing through Nik.

  What would he do had he ever learned a man was intending to use his child as Nik was intending to use Ramsey Martin's child?

  He'd kill him.

  That was an easy question to ask.

  But Mikayla wasn't a child any longer. She was a grown woman, one with an innocent appeal that drove him insane.

  He couldn't equate Mikayla with a child, his or any others. He was man enough to see the woman in her, and to be aroused by her.

  "I was wondering how long it would take you to break free." He didn't turn as he sensed her moving toward the deck.

  46

  "I completely blame you for the entire debacle that my day has been." The accusation in her voice had a grin tugging at his lips. There was no true heat, more exasperation and irritation than anything.

  "That's why I have your beer extra cold." He turned to her, and he swore his cock surged harder, faster, than it had the night before.

  Son of a bitch. Look at her. That fall of soft wheat blond hair over one side of her face as those amethyst eyes watched him with narrowed intent. That look sliced right through him. Like fire snaking through his body. He felt sweat begin to dot his shoulders, felt his balls tighten painfully. Hell, he wanted to taste her so damned bad he could barely stand it. The need for it was a hunger raging through him with a force that almost left him shaking. He'd never wanted anything like he wanted this woman right now.

  "How do you like your steak?" He had to turn from her. If he didn't turn away from her, then he was going to lift her up on the long wooden table, stroke that flimsy dress up her thighs, and peel it from her plump breasts.

  "Medium whatever," she answered as she stepped up to the deck. "I hope you have salad and a potato to go with that. You owe me after the hell I went through today. Do you know they made me go to the hospital? Do you know what hospitals are like? I hate those damned places."

  He turned back, just for a second, he told himself. He was just going to look at her for another second.

  She stood at the top of the steps, her hip cocked, one hand resting against it as her hair fell around her shoulders like a sunlit cape.

  She was so damned short. And so fucking petite he was almost scared to touch her. Hell, she'd be the death of him. He was going to expire from sexual hunger before the night was over.

  "Salad and potato are waiting inside," he promised her. He'd done his homework. He knew how she liked her steak before he'd even asked her. He knew she preferred Caesar salad and baked potatoes. She liked ranch dressing on her salad, butter and ranch on her potato. She preferred rolls with honey and liked lemon with her sweet tea.

  She wore dresses, rarely wore jeans, and she liked silk and French lace beneath her clothing.

  He was dying to get under her dress.

  "Where's that beer?" The irritation in her voice only made him harder. Made him feel challenged.

  "Here you go, pretty girl." Pulling open the door to the minirefrigerator beneath the grill, he opened the beer, then turned and handed it to her. Her fingers glanced his as she took it and he swore his body tightened further. His cock was going to explode at this rate.

  Nik swore he could smell the sweet, soft aroma of arousal reaching out to him, or perhaps it was just the innocent curiosity in her gaze and his own imagination.

  "God, they made me crazy." She plopped down on the seat at the picnic table, crossed one slender leg over her knee. Her strappy soft blue sandals were an attractive contrast to the white and pale yellow sundress that barely met her knees. The fluttery dress was pretty as hell, feminine and soft, tempting. It made a man 47

  want to slide it right off her body.

  "They love you." Nik tossed the steaks on the grill, hoping to distract himself before he ended up trying to seduce her right there on the back deck.

  "To death." She gave a charming little puff of air behind him. "Mom showed up just after you left. She cried when I didn't want to go to the hospital. Then she cried some more when she got a good look at my face. Do you have any idea how hard it was to escape them? Do you know Dad is threatening to move my brothers in with me? Can you imagine how irritating my brothers are?"

  "They seemed concerned." He could see her killing them in three days flat. The three of them had postured, growled, and frowned at him the entire time he had been at the shop.

  "They seemed mentally retarded." That little puff of air again. He chuckled at the accusation.

  "I swear I think Dad must have dropped them on their heads when they were babies. Those three have the combined IQ of a brick."

  Mixed with the irritation was affection. She loved her brothers, but Nik could understand why they made her crazy. Once upon a time, he had had a sister himself. One he had hovered over and protected.

  "You managed to hold them off, though?" Damn, he hoped she had, because he had every intention of seducing the hell out of her. That would be rather hard to do if she had three brothers living with her.

  "I threatened to cook for them." He caught her shrug from the corner of his eye.

  "You can't cook?"

  "Not as far as they know." She tipped the beer to her lips, took a long, refreshing drink, and he almost came in his jeans. He could only imagine how sexy those pretty lips would look on his body. On his cock.

  That told him a lot, though. She protected herself against the overprotection of her family. She had deliberately allowed her brothers, men who enjoyed their food, to think she couldn't cook.

  He tested the steaks, judged their doneness, then pulled them from the grill and placed them on the china. Moving to the table, he set the steaks in front of her, moved back into the house, and gathered the rest of the meal.

  The first beer eased her irritation. The second was enjoyed with the steak as early evening began to dim. Nik lit the citronella candles he had waiting on the far edge of the table, pulled two more beers from the minifridge, and cleared the dishes.

  "You should be punished." A little pout crossed her lips as he returned to his seat. Even the bruise marring her face did nothing to detract from the seductive image.
/>   "Why is that?" He chuckled as he leaned closer. "I didn't tell your father anything."

  "No, you told the owner of the bar as he was leaving this morning, who then called my father in like five seconds flat. You have to be careful around here, Mr. Steele. There are no secrets."

  "I'll remember that." He watched her carefully. "The owner of that bar had some very interesting information, though."

  He watched her eyes. In less than a second the guileless amusement turned to wary suspicion.

  48

  "I bet he did." She tensed, her eyes filling with disappointment.

  "You've had a lot of problems like this, haven't you, Mikayla?" Nik asked gently. Her lips twisted mirthlessly and for a second he saw a flash of grief.

  "Yeah, I have." She shrugged, causing the filmy strap of her dress to slip partially over her silken shoulder. "Maddix has the perfect alibi." Her head lifted, her eyes meeting Nik's head-on then. "Are you sure you're on the punching bag's side here?" There was a wealth of cynicism in that look, and hurt. She believed in what she had seen. She truly believed Maddix Nelson had committed that murder.

  "Let's say I'm in the 'I wasn't there' camp," Nik finally answered her, wondering at that prick of guilt he suddenly felt. "And I tend to lean to the side of the underdog. I have to say you're definitely the underdog here, sweetheart."

  "Underdog" was an understatement.

  Mikayla stared back at Nik Steele, wondering at the shadow that briefly darkened the light blue of his eyes, that made them appear not so cold or lacking in emotion. What did he hide behind those eyes?

  "Yes, I'm the underdog," she agreed, shrugging before reaching to her shoulder to readjust the strap of her dress.

  He watched her. Those eyes focused on her movement, lightning swift, and with another flash of that brief, dark emotion. And hunger. Mikayla glimpsed the hunger in his gaze. That flash set a charge within her own nerve endings. It was like flash fire. It tore across her flesh, tightened her nipples, and for a second literally stole her breath.

  "I should go." But instead of jumping to her feet as she knew she should, she sat there instead, allowing his gaze to hold her trapped.

  "Why?" Eatable lips. The man had completely eatable lips. Just a little bit full, just a little bit sexy, hinting at restraint, and a tempting hunger to lose control. She could feel it, that knowledge, sense it with the raging feminine need coursing through her body.

  "Because you're dangerous," she whispered, feeling her fingers shake as she lifted them from the table. "And I think I've had enough danger in my life lately." She had to force herself to begin standing.

  "Are you sure you want to leave now, Mikayla?"

  He stood, leaned closer, and for that moment she was lost.

  She was lost in his eyes. Icy, icy blue eyes that at first were as frozen as the Arctic. Until he came closer. Until she glimpsed for a second that flame of blue in their depths.

  Until his lips touched hers.

  That kiss.

  She had read about that kiss. She had seen movies that revolved around that kiss. But she had never known it herself before this. This was the first time. As his lips brushed against hers heat seared her senses and some unknown narcotic began to infuse her blood. Wild, impossible pleasure began to pound through her body, focusing between her thighs, swelling in her clit, dampening her sex. Sensual, sensuous, the heavy lassitude washed through her, allowing her lips to part, to accept that first brush of his tongue.

  She had kissed before. She'd had lots of kisses. She was a virgin; that didn't mean she had never been kissed. It didn't mean she had never been touched or tempted. 49

  But never had she been tempted like this. Parting her lips further, she allowed her senses, her curiosity, to take control. A kiss like this was once in a lifetime. It was a kiss that personified danger, broken hearts, and star-crossed hungers. She trembled as he moved around the table, never breaking contact, the kiss growing only deeper as he took deep, drugging sips of her lips. He rubbed his lips against hers, licked at her tongue with his. Then his lips slanted over hers and he took them as a man intent on seduction.

  Mikayla wasn't going to fight it. This was more man than she had ever had so close. More man than she had ever dared to approach, ever wanted to approach. Mikayla had always wanted nothing more than to live a safe, steady, sane life. Life hadn't been any of that lately; why not grab some of the pleasure to be had from it?

  She gasped as she felt herself being lifted. The smooth planks of the picnic table were under her thighs as Nik's hand cupped her neck, holding her in place as his kiss deepened.

  Summer heat whipped not just around her but also through her. The feel of his strength, the touch of his lips, were heady. She wanted more. Mikayla couldn't resist reaching up to his hair, her fingers tugging at the leather strap holding it back. The coarse, cool strands flowed around her fingers, down the sides of his face. The sensual feel added to the pleasure beginning to build in her body.

  "Such a brave little beauty," he murmured, his head lifting as her eyes opened. What had ever made her imagine his eyes were cold? Icy? That wasn't ice. It was a steel blue flame blistering in its heat.

  "Brave? Stupid maybe?" She was breathless, but it was the feel of his hands on her thighs, pushing the hem of her dress higher, that had her losing her breath. The heated rasp of calloused flesh sent fingers of blistering pleasure racing through her nerve endings. Her gaze jerked down. She had to watch. Eyes wide, her lips parting, she watched as his large, broad hands slid her dress slowly up her thighs until his thumbs met at the damp center of her silken panties.

  He stood between her spread knees, his legs shifting to part her thighs as his thumbs moved subtly against the center of her panties.

  "Nik . . ." She tried to breath. She had to convince herself this was a bad thing. She had remained a virgin all these years, waiting until it was right. Was this right? Or was it just a man who knew exactly how to play the human body?

  "Shh. I just want a taste, pretty baby," he crooned. "I've never tasted innocence before."

  Her gaze flashed back to his. That pale blue flame licked over her senses as his head lowered.

  His lips stroked along her jawline to her neck. Flash points of pleasure seemed to tear across her nerve endings, streaking to alternate points of her body as she began to ache with sensual heat.

  His thumb pressed against her clit as it throbbed for attention. The firm, knowing touch sent spirals of sensation tracking lower, invading the depths of her sex and clenching through her body with near-violent desire.

  She had never wanted like she wanted this touch. The heated warmth of his 50

  fingertips against her inner thighs, his thumb pressing against her clit as his kiss sank inside her.

  It was incredible.

  He was the ultimate bad boy bringing the ultimate pleasure, and Mikayla, like any good virgin, was much too susceptible to it.

  The exquisite sensation raced through her body like a narcotic she couldn't resist. It weakened any thought to protest, any need to deny. It sensitized her flesh, heated it, and had her lying back for him as he came over her, his knee pressing against the table, replacing his thumbs as one hand gripped her hip and dragged her closer to the firm pressure of that diabolical knee.

  For twenty-six years she had remained a virgin and she was ready to throw it all away right now, right here.

  Her head tipped back as his lips moved from hers, to her jaw, to her neck. The heated rasp of his unshaven jaw brushed against her neck as his lips waged a path of sensual destruction along the tender flesh of her neck.

  It was incredible. It so surpassed pleasure, came so close to orgasmic bliss, she could barely breathe for it. She couldn't think. She couldn't do anything but feel. Oh, God, it felt so good.

  His fingers played at the edges of her breasts as his lips moved lower, brushed against the rounded tops, licked over them. His tongue painted a trail of fire that sent a quicksilver rush of sensation te
aring through her womb.

  "You have to be the sweetest thing I've tasted in my life," he growled as he pushed the strap of her dress over her shoulder, revealing more of her breast, daring to nudge her dress lower until the tender bud of her nipple was revealed. She was doing this on his deck? Letting him touch her like this, taste her like this, on his picnic table? And she was loving it.

  The side of his finger rasped against her nipple as she arched closer, feeling his tongue lick between the valley of her breasts. She wanted his tongue on her nipple. She wanted to feel it enclosed in the heated cavern of his mouth. She wanted it like she had never wanted another touch.

  Was it the danger she had faced? The knowledge that tomorrow had almost not arrived for her? Was it the danger? Was it simply the man?

  The man was incredible.

  A low, muted groan, or a growl, vibrated against her breasts as his lips smoothed over her nipple. Racing pleasure raked over the tender tip, sent an incredible mix of sensations flowing through her.

  Her head tipped back, her back arching as she bit her lips to hold back a cry. Her nipple lodged between his lips as his tongue stroked over it. Stroked, like a wet, heated flame.

  She was on the verge of begging for more. Begging was clearly becoming an option when she suddenly stiffened at a sound she couldn't believe she was hearing.

  "Mikayla, are you out here?"

  Her brother? Scotty?

  Her eyes flew open, watching as Nik's head lifted just enough to allow his eyes to glance through the veil of his lashes toward the gate that separated their yards.

  "Mikayla, your car's out front. Where are you?"

  51

  Her lips parted in shock. "He called the police the last time I tried to ignore him." Nik's expression tightened with predatory intent, a glint of danger flickering in his gaze.

  What was she allowing herself to get into here? Where had her common sense gone?

  "She's not here, Neil," Scotty called out. "Get Beau; we'll call the sheriff. He might actually help us this time."

  Her eyes widened. All her brothers were there?

  Oh, Lord.

  "Let me go." She wiggled beneath Nik, still feeling too fragile, too feminine, against him. "They really will call the sheriff."