Rogue (Phoenix Rising)

by Brynley Blake

  I’m having second thoughts, though, as we walk down the curving gold staircase into the XS Nightclub several hours later. While I’m not exactly insecure about my body, I’m a little self-conscious flaunting it in public like this, particularly since I spent the year and a half that I dated Bryce trying to cover up my curves. He preferred stick-straight, athletic-looking women. But that was then and this is now. I catch a glimpse of myself in a nearby window. My short, skintight black dress barely covers anything. I’m ready.

  And after a few minutes in the club, I’ve stopped caring. The appreciative glances I get when we walk in bolster my confidence, and a lot of women at the club are dressed in less than I am. It doesn’t take long to get wrapped up in the party-like atmosphere, and soon we’re dancing and drinking and laughing. I’ve never been anywhere like this. It’s like being at a concert, a nightclub, and a pool party all wrapped up in one. A DJ that I’ve actually heard on the radio is mixing loud dance music from a round booth in the middle of the dance floor, and the room is thick with people dressed in everything from skin-baring bikinis to dresses and slacks, dancing inside, on the patio, and even in the pool.

  Charlotte, Gemma, and I are letting loose with a group of sweet but nerdy engineers who are in Vegas for a bachelor party when I first become aware of him. I feel his gaze first, boring into me as I dance, and when I turn around, my eyes meet half-closed, hooded brown ones that are watching me with an intensity that makes me squirm. He’s sitting alone on one of the deep leather sofas in the private cabana behind us, and my God, but he’s heart-stoppingly beautiful. Dangerous looking, but beautiful.

  It’s hard to see him clearly in the dim lights of the club, but I can make out short, tousled dark hair—the kind that begs you to run your fingers through it—chiseled features, a strong jaw, and a hint of scruff that has me inexplicably wondering what it would feel like against my lips. He looks completely at ease, dressed in khaki slacks and a shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a hint of his smooth, muscled chest, with one ankle crossed over his knee and his arm slung across the back of the sofa, a crystal glass dangling from his fingertips. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to reveal a tattoo, and his hands are strong and powerful looking. Oh, yeah. He’s Dangerous with a capital D.

  If I weren’t feeling reckless and didn’t already have a few drinks in me, I would have turned back around and ignored him. Some part of me knows that’s exactly what I should do. But there’s something about him—an aura of uncompromising confidence coupled with an almost cruel sensuality that roots me to the spot, unable to tear my gaze away. My typically careful inner voice is telling me I should turn around and go back to dancing with Charlotte and Gemma and the harmless group of boys we met earlier. Those guys are safe. This guy is anything but. He’s a man. All hard edges, confidence, and rugged masculinity wrapped into one tantalizingly sexy package.

  Yet I can’t make myself walk away. Maybe it’s because I’ve already lost everything and have nothing left to lose, or maybe Liam’s death has taught me there are no guarantees and life is short so you might as well live it. Maybe it was jumping off that waterfall that’s emboldened me, or maybe it’s just the connection I feel with Liam that empowers me to be daring. But something’s changed, and for once in my life, I don’t want to play it safe. I want to be like Liam—wild and bold and free and, most of all, fearless. It’s time to redefine myself, to be the girl I’ve always been too afraid to be.

  With my heart thumping in time with the beat of the music, I slowly walk straight toward the devil himself.

  Chapter Four

  Noah

  McKenzie Prescott is nothing like what I expected. El Gato told me she was cautious and reserved, a twenty-four-year-old somewhat naive and mousy girl prone to panic attacks, a girl who spent more time with women than men designing elaborate wedding gowns for a living and who was slightly afraid of her own shadow. But the girl walking toward me with the hint of a smile on her pouty lips is anything but mousy. This woman is pure sex on a stick, with dark blonde hair hanging in a sexy riot of waves halfway down her back, long-lashed, smoky blue eyes, luscious curves perfectly showcased in a black, body-hugging slip of a dress with cutouts up the side that show a tantalizing glimpse of flesh, and a confident swing of her hips as she walks boldly toward me.

  I stand up slowly, enjoying the view as she approaches. She’s nearly in front of me when the heel of her six-inch black stiletto catches on the edge of the carpet, and I instinctively reach out to steady her. The electricity that sizzles between us as my hands make contact with her bare skin is palpable, and my cock hardens instantaneously. Damn. I haven’t felt this sort of visceral attraction to a woman in years. Maybe ever.

  I mentally shake my head. I’m here to do a job, not get laid. Still, I leave my hand on the curve of her hip, not willing to break the physical contact just yet. Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t move away.

  “Why were you watching me?” she asks. Her low-pitched voice has the barest hint of a southern accent.

  “Just wondering what your lips would taste like when I kissed you,” I answer evenly, looking straight into eyes so blue you could drown in them.

  Her eyes widen and then her lashes lower, but not before I see them dilate in response. She keeps her gaze averted for one long moment, and then she looks back up at me. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

  I take another step closer, and with one hand still on her waist, I cup my other hand around the side of her neck as my thumb brushes her cheek. I lean forward and kiss her, and the electricity that crackled between us when I first touched her erupts into a full conflagration as our lips meet. Her lips are soft and I gently coax them open, slipping my tongue into her mouth. There’s a sharp little intake of breath, and then her tongue meets mine tentatively. She tastes like honey on a hot summer’s day—so sweet and rich you want to dip back in for seconds. I do just that, deepening the kiss as my tongue sweeps over hers, devouring the little sigh that escapes from her. When I finally pull back slightly, our lips still mere inches from each other, it takes a minute for her eyes to open and focus.

  “Do you always kiss girls you don’t know like that?” she asks breathlessly.

  “No.”

  Her eyes widen again, but before she can say anything else, her friends are there, pulling her back out to dance with them and the pathetically eager group of spare pricks they’re dancing with. She goes reluctantly, her eyes still fixed on mine, until she finally breaks our gaze and follows her friends. Five seconds later, she stops and looks back at me over her shoulder as the auburn-haired one grabs her arm laughingly, urging her to come.

  “Do you want to dance?” McKenzie asks me.

  I follow her onto the dance floor, stepping right in front of the fresh-faced kid with a boner for McKenzie who’s been trying to work up the courage to dirty dance with her for the last hour. I grasp her hips firmly, pulling her sweet little ass against my pelvis. She looks up over her shoulder at me briefly, hesitation in her eyes, but then she gives herself over to the music, circling her hips in time to the music as we dance together. She’s provocative without trying, keeping some distance between us so she’s not pressed too intimately against me. Still, her tight, curvy bottom brushes against me enough that she has to know exactly how hard I am for her.

  She’s a good dancer, and her body follows the beat like it pulses through her veins. We dance to several more songs as the kid shoots daggers at me and her friends eye me speculatively.

  I lean forward so my lips are near her ear. “Want to go back to my cabana and get a drink?”

  She nods, murmurs something to her friends, and follows me back to the curtained space along the edge of the pool, where she carefully settles herself on the sofa next to me. Instantly, a waiter appears. “The usual, sir?” he asks.

  I nod. “What would you like?” I ask her.

  “Crown and Coke, please,” she says.

  After the waiter disappears, she says, “I
don’t usually do this.” Her gesture encompasses the entire club, and I’m not sure if she’s talking about Vegas, the nightclub, or me.

  “Vegas?”

  “Vegas, clubs, dancing like that, kissing men I don’t know…” She trails off as the waiter returns with our drinks.

  “Why are you now?” I ask. I’m curious, yes, but I want to know if she feels the same sexual draw I do, even though I know I can’t do a damn thing about it.

  She shrugs and then smiles right at me, and my dick throbs in response to the full wattage of her smile. “Just feeling reckless tonight, I guess.”

  “Well, I’m glad you decided to choose tonight to feel reckless. I feel lucky that I happened to be here,” I say, although luck has nothing to do with it.

  She licks her lips nervously, and I want nothing more than to push her back against the plush sofa and ravish her mouth until her lips are bruised, her fingers are fisted in my hair, and she’s whimpering my name.

  I shake my head. I have no business thinking like that. McKenzie Prescott is off-limits. She’s a target, not a conquest, and I can’t let thinking with my dick fuck up this assignment. But I wasn’t expecting this visceral attraction, this overwhelming need to touch her and mark her and make her mine. Still, it can’t hurt to flirt a little. No harm, no foul.

  I lift her hand. It feels small and delicate in mine. “You’re very beautiful,” I murmur, my voice low.

  “And you’re very dangerous,” she counters, but she’s smiling.

  She has no idea just how dangerous I am.

  “I don’t even know your name,” she says, looking down at our fingers threaded together.

  “It’s Noah.” What the hell? I might as well tell her my real name.

  “Hi, Noah. I’m McKenzie.” Her voice is a seductive purr.

  Turning toward her, I cup her face with my hand and brush my mouth across her lips softly. “Tell me, McKenzie. Do you feel like gambling tonight?”

  Chapter Five

  McKenzie

  We both know he’s talking about more than just casino games.

  I glance down, conscious of how strong and broad his fingers feel laced with mine. He’s intoxicating. I’ve never been around someone who can make my stomach drop with a touch of his hand or make my thighs clench from nothing more than a kiss. He’s sexy as hell with his bad-boy good looks, but it’s more than that. It’s his confidence that borders on arrogance, that edgy carnality, and the way he seems to command the very air around him. I want to breathe him in and fill my lungs with the heady sensations he evokes before it disappears. I want to embrace this newfound sensuality and live in the moment like Liam. I’m feeling reckless, and the perfect cure for my sudden streak of wild abandon is the dangerously sexy Noah, a man I’d never be bold enough to talk to, much less have a one-night stand with, on any other night. But tonight, when I’m feeling confident and brash, Noah and I are as inevitable as the sun coming up tomorrow. Still, there’s no need to rush things. After all, I’ve got all night.

  “Sure. Poker?” I ask innocently.

  “As you wish,” he answers with the ghost of a smile on his lips, and I know I’m not fooling him for a minute.

  We spend the next hour at the casino, and we play the game of seduction as surely as we play the game of poker—a sultry look, his hand on my thigh, my breasts brushing against his arm as I lean forward to claim my chips. With each hand we play, we dance a little closer to the fire. And I have to admit, I’m enjoying watching him. Under the bright lights of the casino, I can see that his dark hair is sun-streaked with gold as if he spends a lot of time outside, his skin is bronzed, and his muscles are even more defined than they’d appeared in the club. I wonder briefly what he does for a living. Construction? Professional trainer? Athlete? It doesn’t really matter. What matters is that this gorgeous specimen of male is going to be mine for the evening.

  “You’re pretty good at poker,” he concedes after several more drinks and a long run at the table. He smiles, and my heart almost stops. He doesn’t smile often, but when he does, it’s devastating. “It’s those innocent blue eyes that give nothing away.”

  “Beginner’s luck.” I add the last of his chips to the pile in front of me, and then I get up from the table and flash him a teasing smile. “In fact, I think I should quit while I’m ahead. Good night.” I turn and start to walk away, aware of his eyes on my ass. I give it a little wiggle just for his benefit. Who is this flirtatious girl who has taken over my body?

  “I don’t think so,” he growls in my ear as his arms slip around me from behind. “You can’t just take all my money and disappear. You should at least give me a chance to win something back.”

  I turn and give him what I hope is a flirtatious look. His dark cognac eyes are glittering with the promise of sin and redemption. I can feel my smile fade. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Come back to my room and we’ll work something out,” he answers, his voice laced with desire.

  “Okay.” Oh God. Did I just agree to go to a room with a guy I don’t even know? A guy with the most beautiful body I’ve ever seen, a dangerous look in his eyes, and a way of scorching my skin with a single touch?

  The smile he gives me is so warm it curls my toes, and any last wisp of hesitation I may have had vanishes instantly. A girl could get into serious trouble with a man like this. He takes my hand, lifts it to his lips, and then wordlessly leads me to the elevator. We don’t speak as the elevator climbs, and when the door opens, I realize we’re on the top floor. Somehow I’m not surprised when he swipes his key card and opens the door to a magnificent penthouse suite. I slowly walk over to the wall of windows that offers the most amazing panoramic view of the glittering City of Sin. Of course. This god of a man would have nothing less than the best of everything. I frown. So, what the hell am I doing here?

  Then he’s next to me, his strong fingers threaded in my hair, tugging my head back as his mouth descends on mine, and I’m not thinking of anything. His mouth is hot and wet, his lips soft but demanding as they press against mine, gently at first, and then more forcefully as his tongue explores my mouth slowly and thoroughly. I can feel my insides melting into a puddle of desire. He lifts my leg, his hand running up my bare thigh to cup my bottom, and I wrap my leg around his muscular thighs, pressing into him. He groans and I feel a stab of feminine satisfaction. With the alcohol flowing through my veins and the intoxicating warmth of Noah’s hand on my ass, I feel a wantonness I’ve never felt before. I have the strange but undeniably strong urge to give myself over to him, and to all the dark and depraved things he can show me.

  My stomach flutters deliciously at the thought, and I press against him harder. With a muttered curse, he lifts me off the ground with both hands under my ass and pushes me against the cool glass window. He kisses me roughly, and this time he doesn’t trace my lips erotically with his tongue or explore my mouth languidly. This time he possesses me, demanding that I open to him, that I acquiesce as his tongue plunders my mouth, stealing my breath with his ruthless claim. I’ve been kissed before, but never like this.

  I’m dimly aware of him pulling down the shoulder straps of my dress, his slightly calloused hand closing around my breast. I close my eyes and moan softly as his thumb brushes across my hardened nipple. He takes it between his thumb and forefinger and squeezes, hard, and my eyes fly open, meeting his hot gaze. I’m transfixed, my eyes locked on his, as he pinches harder. I suck in air at the bite of pain, but I don’t pull away, and with a faint smile he compresses the sensitive tip even more and adds a little twist, and I have the sense he’s testing me. He slips his fingers under my lace panties, and I’m mortified when he encounters the wetness there. He smiles then, a slow and depraved wolfish grin, and I have the inexplicable feeling that I should run while I can and never look back. But I don’t want to. There’s no turning back now. I want to taste the forbidden pleasure this man can give me. I’ve never been so turned on in my life, and all he’s done so fa
r is kiss me and manhandle my breast.

  “You are so fucking intoxicating.” His voice is like sandpaper, rough and raspy. “If you knew the things I want to do to you…”

  “Tell me,” I whisper. “Better yet, show me.”

  His head is bent, his mouth so close to my aching breast that I’m arching up to him, when his phone vibrates on the small sofa table where he tossed it when we walked in. He freezes, and his eyes become instantly shuttered, the blaze of desire I’d seen in them only seconds before gone. It happens so fast, I would have thought I’d imagined his attraction to me if it wasn’t for the heat of his hands still on my flushed skin—one cupping my ass as his body pins me against the window, the other holding my breast.

  He seems to suddenly become aware of where his hands are, and he abruptly sets me down and turns away. He doesn’t answer the call—in fact he doesn’t even glance at his phone—but it’s clear that the mood is past and I’m not going to find out the things he wanted to do to me. Disappointment slowly gives way to relief as the reality of where I am and what I was about to do sinks in. I almost had sex with a complete stranger! A sexy, dangerous, completely intoxicating stranger, but still a stranger. What was I thinking?

  “I…I should go,” I stammer, suddenly mortified to be standing here half undressed. I quickly adjust my dress. “My friends will be wondering where I am.”

  It’s a lie. My friends know exactly where I am and are eagerly anticipating a blow-by-blow account of my evening.

  “Text them. I’ll take you to breakfast.”

  This is awkward. “No, thank you. Thanks for a, uh, lovely evening. But I’ve got to go.”

  “I’ll walk you down, then.” He’s all business now, and he looks even more formidable somehow, although I have no idea how that’s possible. With his shirt unbuttoned and his hair tousled from my fingers gripping it, he’s also impossibly gorgeous, and I’m painfully aware that he’s way out of my league.