The Rogue

by J. R. Ward

  * * *

  Spike was grimacing in sympathy, still horrified to have heard her gasp and felt her body stiffen under his.

  It was totally unfair, that he should only feel the pleasure of her tight hold while she bore the hurt of them coming together. And he would have taken the pain from her if he could have, born it a hundred times over to spare her.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I really think I should—”

  She held him in place by the shoulders and shifted under him. The friction was so delicious he groaned and when she arched beneath him again, she drew him farther inside.

  Her eyes were clear and sensually curious as she smiled. “Don’t stop now. The hard part’s over.”

  At that moment, staring down into her face, his body pressed against hers, penetrating hers, Spike felt his whole life change. Suddenly, inexplicably, everything was different. Which he supposed was what happened when you were struck by lightning.

  Or…love.

  Oh, no, he thought. How was it possible? No, he couldn’t…

  Well, at least he knew why it might have happened. It was her courage and her strength and the way she felt beneath him right now. It was her mind and her smile and the very scent of her. It was all the things he knew of her and all the things he wanted to discover about her. And, yeah, though it made him a total Neanderthal and he would have adored her anyway, the fact that he was the only man to be where he was just laid him out flat.

  “Spike?” Her brows flickered in worry. “Is this…okay for you?”

  “No, it’s not okay. It’s…everything.” He kissed her deeply, joining them in another way, tongue to tongue.

  Using his hips, he moved deeper and deeper, following a back-and-forth motion to ease his way, stretching her gently. She was all tight satin around him, so smooth and perfect he ground his molars. And though he wanted nothing more than to let loose and turn into a raw animal, though the base of his skull was screaming for him to go wild and pump against her until both of them exploded, the primal instinct was easy to ignore.

  Because she was precious.

  When they were fully together, joined pelvis to pelvis, he gathered her up, scooping his arms under her and holding her tight. With other women he’d had sex with, he hadn’t particularly cared how close they got during the act. But as he eased off the choke hold on his body a little, so he could start the pace that would take Mad and him to heaven, he wanted her right in his face. He wanted to share the moment with her from head to toe. He wanted to look into her eyes.

  And he did. The whole time.

  It didn’t take long before the smooth motion of their bodies carried him so far away that he lost his mind. And she was with him on the journey, clutching at his lower back, holding him tight, digging her nails into him. He felt her release, heard her cry muffled in his shoulder, and then the pleasure was too much. He pulled out quickly and spilled himself between their bellies, shuddering and bucking.

  When he found his breath again, he rolled on to his side and took her with him, easing one thigh between her legs and cradling her against his chest.

  Eventually, she pulled back a little and looked at him. The smile on her face and the glow in her eyes made his heart pole-vault up into his throat.

  Do not say something stupid, he thought.

  Oh, man…he wanted to. He wanted to blurt out three little words he couldn’t possibly mean.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She kissed his jawline. “You’re wonderful.”

  “No, that was all you. Every bit of it. I’m…nothing special.” He shifted his hips back. Separating their bodies felt all wrong, but he got out of bed anyway. “Come with me. I want to wash you.”

  He held out his hand and when she took his palm, he couldn’t resist drawing her against him for a moment. Then they went into the bathroom together, lazy, relaxed, all in the afterglow. As she turned the lights on and dimmed them, he started the shower and waited with his hand under the spray for the warmth to come.

  It wasn’t until she brushed by him to step into the steam that he saw the blood on the inside of her thighs. He glanced down his body, saw more on himself, and felt like passing out.

  “Spike, stop it. You know I’m fine.” She pulled at him. “Come on, get in with me.”

  He kissed her then, with an intensity that came from the soul. And when he pulled back, his eyes were stinging a little so he hid them from her by getting under the water. God…the idea he’d made her bleed in that way shook him so badly he was nauseous.

  He washed her carefully, and when she took the hand towel and insisted on returning the favor, all he could do was lean back against the tile and let her go where she pleased.

  When they were back in bed, he snuggled in close to her, loving her body against his own.

  There was a long silence. “Mad?”

  “Yes?”

  He cleared his throat, wanting to talk. Because if he didn’t let some of what he was thinking out, his head was going to unhinge like a fricking Pez dispenser.

  Except when he opened his mouth, there was nothing…nothing he could really say at any rate. So he kissed her, feeling inadequate.

  “Nothing. Just…I think you’re beautiful.”

  When he would have pulled away, she snuck her hands around his neck and held him against her mouth. As her tongue licked into him, he felt his body thicken in a rush. He moved his lower body back, not wanting her to feel the least bit pressured. But then her hand found his arousal.

  “So soon?” she said with a husky laugh.

  “Um…yeah, but we don’t—” She stroked him and he sucked a breath in through his teeth.

  “You’re going to let me touch you this time,” she said.

  “Are you sure you’re ready to…”

  She rolled him over and moved down his body. “I have an idea. Why don’t I be in control for a little while?”

  Spike gasped at what she did next, his hands tangling in her hair, his hips surging. Closing his eyes, he gave himself to her with no boundaries at all.

  Chapter Nine

  Mad woke up in tangled sheets, her face buried in a pillow that smelled like Spike’s aftershave. As she stretched, her body sent back reminders that she’d done something different during the night. Three times.

  She smiled and wished her lover were next to her, but Spike had insisted on leaving just as the dawn arrived. It was endearing that a man who looked so unconventional was all worried about someone finding out they’d spent the night together.

  And what a night.

  Boy, given her dating past, she never would have guessed that when she finally had sex it would be such a beautiful, moving experience. But it had been, with all the right things done and said and felt. Spike had made it special for her in each touch and whisper, every kiss and heartbeat. And it had been special for him, too. She’d seen it in his eyes.

  Memories of them together came to her, warmed her, made her restless. He’d been so careful not to release when they were joined, always breaking the connection before his body reached its pinnacle. In the light of day, she was glad because it showed how scrupulous he was. Even though the precaution was unnecessary.

  Mad frowned. Pushing the covers down her body, she looked at her stomach. She was so lean and so strong, she could see each one of her individual abdominal muscles. Passing her hand over her belly, she pictured herself going soft. Getting round. Growing big.

  Carrying a child.

  She splayed her hand out. What would that feel like?

  And, yes, the baby in this hypothetical had yellow eyes.

  Mad groaned and stood up. She’d made love for the first time last night and she was already thinking about pregnancy? For heaven’s sake, she didn’t have the kind of lifestyle for that sort of thing.

  Or the man for it, either. Just because she and Spike had shared something wonderful, didn’t change the fact that they were going their separate ways. Even if he magicall
y decided he wanted a woman in his life, her sailing schedule was a crusher and he wasn’t going to quit his chef job just to follow her around the globe.

  They had this one weekend together, this one very special weekend that she would cherish always….

  God, her chest hurt.

  And as she stepped into the shower the ache got worse. She couldn’t help fantasizing about a future that would never happen.

  Picking up a bar of soap, which she remembered using on Spike’s body, she started to wash herself. When she ran the thing over her lower belly she stopped, a flash of fear snaking through her. Not getting a period had always seemed like such a relief; she never missed the hassle or the discomfort. And it was great to wake up every morning knowing she was going to feel the same as the day before because there was none of that monthly mood swing thing.

  Except what if it never came back? Exactly what kind of gamble was she taking with her body?

  She thought of Spike, worshiping her with his hands, his mouth…the most intimate part of himself. She’d never given much thought about being a woman before. She was an athlete first and foremost, a competitor. But last night, underneath him, on top of him, all over him, she’d felt very female.

  And she’d loved it.

  * * *

  As Spike stepped out of his guest room, he looked down the long hall. He wasn’t sure what the protocol was, but he was definitely knocking on Mad’s door before he went down for breakfast. And if the two of them walking into that sunroom together was a problem, he’d just have to give their audience a big whatever.

  He needed to see Mad.

  While heading down to her room, he figured he should have been in rough shape because he’d been up all night watching her sleep. Instead, the hour’s shut-eye in his own bed and the shower he’d just had was all it took to totally revive him. He was wired in this best kind of way, totally alive.

  He came up to her door and took a deep breath, telling his body that now was not the time for anything remotely sexual. Except as he knocked, all he could think about was how they’d spent the hours in her bed and he was instantly primed. Again.

  When there was no answer, he went downstairs. The sunroom where the family ate breakfast was in an alcove off the dining room, and as he stepped inside the bright little space, his eyes adjusted and he grinned like an idiot. Mad was sitting in a ray of sunshine, a coffee cup in her hands. The moment she saw him, she blushed and offered him a slow, secret smile.

  “You look well rested,” Richard muttered while flipping his New York Times around with a crack.

  Spike took the seat next to Mad. “It’s the country air. And all the exercise I’ve been getting.”

  As Mad’s cheeks got even rosier, Spike had to force himself not to take her hand and give it a squeeze.

  He was still looking at her when a plate of poached eggs on toast materialized in front of him. God, he was ravenous. Capable of eating thirds. He tucked into the breakfast with the enthusiasm of his teenage years.

  When he sensed Mad’s gaze on him, he glanced over at her. She was staring at his hands on his silverware and he knew exactly what she was thinking. To get her attention, he stroked the handle of the knife with his forefinger. As her eyes shot up to his, he deliberately licked his lower lip then bit down on it. Her coffee cup trembled and she looked away, smiling.

  Richard rustled his paper again. “So now that your guard dog is here, may we discuss your trust?”

  Mad stiffened. “I told you fifteen minutes ago. I told you yesterday. I’m not going to sign those papers.”

  “Well—” her half brother looked over the top of the business section “—something tells me you’ll change your mind soon enough.”

  From out in the foyer, there came a fast clipping sound.

  High heels, Spike thought. And they were heading this way.

  The blond woman who appeared in the sunroom’s doorway was an absolutely stunning creature, all Grace Kelly-esque: perfect features, perfect body, perfect long, wavy flaxen hair. She was dressed in white slacks and a pale blue blouse and had a gold chain belt around her waist. Her perfume was delicate and undoubtedly French and her aura was one of profound privilege.

  Spike frowned, thinking he’d seen her before. Or maybe not. He could just be getting her mixed up with one of any number of Manhattan’s A-list types. God knew there were plenty of picture-perfect blondes wearing Chanel in the Big Apple.

  Whatever…whether he’d seen her in passing before or not, this had to be Amelia and he supposed Mad was right. Most men would be picking their chins off their plates at the arrival of such a high-class knockout. Except as far as Spike was concerned, Grace Kelly over there couldn’t hold a candle to the woman he had held against him last night.

  He glanced over at Mad. Oh, man, she was white as a sheet.

  Richard peered around his paper and smiled. “There you are, Amelia.”

  The blonde nodded in his direction in a vague way, seeming to see only Mad. In a quiet voice, she said, “Hello, Madeline. I…didn’t know you were here.”

  Mad barely nodded, having evidently gone rigid in her chair. “Amelia.”

  There was a long pause.

  Richard broke the silence by tossing his section of newspaper aside. “Perhaps I’ll introduce our guest, as Madeline doesn’t seem to want to. This is her friend, Spike.”

  The guy enunciated his words hard, like he was punching the air.

  Amelia’s gaze shifted over. Her eyes were pale gray and lovely, but curiously flat. Kind of like fake pearls, Spike thought.

  “Hello,” she said.

  Spike lifted a hand, but didn’t much care about the introduction. His only concern was how bad Mad looked. And how long it was going to take him to get her out of the room. Because sure as hell, this arrival was an ambush of some kind.

  As Amelia sat down, Richard smiled, picked up another section of the Times and started leafing through it. “So good to have the family back together again, isn’t it?”

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Mad said, getting to her feet, “I’m finished.”

  Spike stood up even though he’d only made it through half the food on his plate.

  “Running away, Madeline?” Richard flipped to another page and snapped the section back into shape. “Not exactly a good quality to offer a corporate board.”

  Spike leaned forward, put his index finger on the top of the Times and dragged the thing down. The sound of the paper giving way was loud and crispy in the tense room.

  “Apologize for that cheap shot,” he said softly to Richard.

  The other man’s eyes went wide. “I beg your pardon.”

  “Take that crack back. Now.”

  “What are you, her thug?”

  “If that’s the way you want to see it, yeah, I am. But it would nice if you could man up and not be such a bastard to your half sister.”

  Mad took Spike’s arm. “It’s okay. Really.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Spike. Drop it.”

  The only reason he broke the eye contact with Richard was that he didn’t want to cause Mad any more stress. But easing off was damn hard.

  Especially when Richard looked at Mad and said, “And you can’t stand up for yourself, either. Just what do you think you have to offer Value Shop Supermarkets, anyway?”

  Spike was about to take that paper and do something socially unacceptable with it when Mad threw her shoulders back and said calmly, “I’m going to surprise you, Richard.”

  “Indeed. And I’m sure Amelia would like to be surprised, too, wouldn’t you? She and I just love surprises.”

  The blonde was sitting stock still in her chair, looking like some kind of impressionist oil painting in the sunlight and her pale clothes. “Actually, I think Madeline should be on the board,” she said quietly.

  Mad’s head whipped around.

  And so did Richard’s.

  The man’s eyes narrowed on Amelia. “Do you.” When she
nodded, he said dryly, “And this is because you know so much about governing boards, of course.”

  “I’m on the Met’s.”

  Richard lifted his paper up again, clearly bored. Or more likely pretending to be. “That’s nonprofit. Publicly held corporations are different.”

  Enough of this, Spike thought. He was in a table-flipping rage on Mad’s behalf and the only cure was to get away from this circus. Otherwise, he was liable to put Richard head-first into the ground.

  Mad seemed to have come to the same conclusion he did because she turned and walked out of the room. He followed, and when they got to the foyer, he pulled her to a stop.

  “We should just leave. Right now. This is whacked. You don’t need this.”

  She pulled away from him, crossing her arms over her chest. “There’s nothing I’d rather do than get away.”

  “So let’s go.”

  “Except Richard has a point. I run. That’s what I do. I’ve always run away from them and that stops right now. I’m staying until the end of the weekend.” Abruptly, she tilted her head and looked at him as if he were a complete stranger. “A word about my half sister. She prefers men who are polished, but she’ll take anyone who catches my eye. So if you’re into her, all you have to do is ask and she’ll be happy to oblige, I’m sure.”

  Spike recoiled as if she’d slapped him.

  As Mad turned her back on him, he grabbed her arm. “Oh, no you don’t. You do not drop a nasty like that and get to twirl away from me.”

  Mad’s eyes were angry, unseeing. “Let go of my arm.”

  He pulled her forward until she was against his body. “Is that all you have to say to me?”

  They squared off nose to nose, a hostile, heated spark flaring between them.

  “Maybe Richard was right,” she said softly. “Maybe you are a thug. Maybe that’s why you and Sean get along so well. Two street fighters who pretend to be civilized.”

  “How those Nikes feel on your feet right now, Madeline? Guess I’m not on that short list of people you won’t run from.”

  As he felt her tremble in anger, he wondered what the hell they were doing, standing in the foyer, biting at each other. How had they sunk so low so fast after last night?