The Rogue

by J. R. Ward

  He took them miles and miles away from Greenwich, the Harley eating up the asphalt. Some forty-five minutes later, he realized they were deep in rural Connecticut and that, after a series of random turns onto smaller and smaller roads, he’d probably gotten them lost.

  He slowed down and pulled over onto the gravel shoulder, figuring it was time to re-group. The deserted two laner they were on was out in the middle of nowhere: no cars or houses around, only maples and oaks and a small pond. The moonlight was the closest thing to a street lamp they had.

  As he engaged the kickstand, she dismounted from the bike and flipped the helmet off. Her hair was tangled at the ends and her skirt wrinkled where she had balled it between her legs to straddle the Harley. She looked a little wild.

  Which matched his mood. He felt unhinged and starved. Needy. Clingy. Things that he didn’t usually throw out at the world, much less at women.

  Mad put the helmet down next to the bike and strolled across the road. He tracked the sway of her walk and the slender curves of her body like she was an animal.

  No, that was wrong. He was the animal. He’d brought her here, to this nowhere place, to this nothing-counts-because-it’s-not-real slice of rural anonymity, for one reason and one reason only. He wanted to take her. Wanted to be covered with her body. And he wanted to do it in the kind of privacy they couldn’t find at her family’s house, no matter how many doors and locks they had.

  He wondered if she knew and hoped she didn’t. Because he wasn’t real impressed with himself at the moment.

  “We should go back,” he said roughly. “I’ve taken us too far away.”

  She pivoted around in the middle of the road. “Have you?”

  “Yeah. Definitely.” He bent down and picked up the helmet. “Put this back on. Let’s go.”

  “I don’t want to.” She turned to the pond again. “I can breathe out here.”

  Funny, he couldn’t. Especially as she reached her arms over her head and stretched. As her body arched in the moonlight, he saw her naked.

  Spike put his hand up to his chin and cracked his neck, trying to loosen the tension in his body. Then he put the helmet over his hips and rearranged his arousal with a grimace.

  “Let’s go, Mad. If you want to stay out, I’ll take you the long way home.” Yeah, the really long way as he only had a vague idea how to get them back to Greenwich.

  “Not yet.” She walked down to the edge of the pond, a breeze teasing her skirt around. It was a long time before she turned and looked at him.

  Separated by the gray, moonlit road, they stared at each other.

  “Mad?”

  “Yes?”

  “Can you come here?” he said in a deep growl. “Can you come over to me…. please?”

  She drifted across the road, as quiet and graceful as a ghost. While she approached, he kicked his leg out and around, turning himself toward her on the Harley’s deep seat. When she was within range, he reached for her, his hands going to her hips. Through the warm night air, his questioned her with his eyes.

  She touched his face. “You look hungry.”

  “I am.” His voice was low, hoarse. “And I feel like I should apologize for it.”

  “Don’t.” She put her mouth on his. “I’m hungry, too.”

  With those quiet words, it was as if she’d popped the lid off of him. His arms shot around her and he spread his legs wide so he could get her into his hips. He was almost out of time and she was everything hot and good and sustaining in the world.

  He tried not to be rough, but he pushed up her shirt so he could get at her skin, and gyrated his hips against her thighs, dying to get into her. When she gasped, he eased up immediately, but she didn’t pull away. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on harder.

  His hands traveled downward so he could gather her skirt in his hands, but then he stopped.

  “Come up on me.” He shifted, mounting the bike again. When he reached for her, she went with him, straddling the seat, straddling his hips. “Yeah…just like that. Oh…yeah.”

  He captured her face in his hands and pulled her mouth to him. The sensations of her weight on him, her warmth, her body, shot his need so high he started to shake.

  With a quick move, he slipped his hands down to her shoulders and eased her back so she was braced between the handlebars. The thin silk of her blouse offered no true barrier and neither did the simple, lovely bra she had on. Baring her breasts to the moonlit night, he fell upon her with his lips and heard her cry out.

  Maybe he should have slowed down, but she was right there with him, hands tangled in his hair, breath shooting out of her mouth, body arched up against his lips and tongue. He was all screaming instinct at this point, and before he knew what he was doing, he’d wrenched her skirt up around her hips.

  As he gripped her panties at the hip, she laughed a little awkwardly. “Spike?”

  He nuzzled the side of her neck, thinking how beautiful she was sprawled out all over his Harley. “No one’s around.”

  She looked up and down the road.

  He eased back. “I’m sorry…I don’t mean to push. I’ll stop.”

  “You’re not pushing.” She glanced around again. Then smiled. “Do…what it was you were going to do.”

  He kissed her hard then ripped her panties apart on one side and moved them out of the way. When he touched her, he was utterly transfixed.

  Without thinking, he dismounted the bike and fell to his knees in front of her, sliding his palms up the insides of her legs. She became restless as he moved up on her so before he leaned down to her body, he looked into her face.

  Her eyes were cracked wide open and he was reminded they hadn’t done this the night before. And they were out in the open even if it was the middle of nowhere.

  “Is this okay?” he asked, massaging her legs gently.

  “Ah…. yes. If you…um, if you want to—”

  “I do. Until I’m shaking from it. I wanted to last night…Was dying to.” He flexed his hands into the sleek muscles of her thighs. “Let me make you feel good, Mad.”

  When she nodded, he smiled and dropped his head.

  * * *

  Mad could not believe that she was making love at the side of the road on a motorcycle.

  But then Spike’s mouth found her and she didn’t think about anything other than him. As she fell back against the handlebars, the things bit into her shoulders and she lost her balance, but she didn’t care. And somehow Spike managed to steady her with his big hands without losing a beat. As he did wicked things to her body, her eyes opened to the vast sky and the stars above—the pleasure he gave her seemed just as magical and endless and incomprehensible.

  After a mighty release had ripped through her body and she was worn out from the exertion of the ecstasy, when at last he lifted up from her, she knew there would never be another like him. Their connection was ancient and animalistic. Simple, not complex.

  As he got to his feet, it was obvious he was painfully aroused, yet he pulled her skirt down and smiled as if he were grateful.

  “Think you can hold on to me for the trip home?” he said with more than a hint of male pride.

  “Yes.” She braced her arm on one of the handlebars, her head spinning as she eased off the bike. “But we need to stay here a little longer.”

  When she reached for his belt buckle, he jerked. “Mad, we don’t have to—”

  “Get up on this bike again. But first…” She undid his pants and pushed them all the way down. “Step out of these.”

  His laugh was abrupt and surprisingly nervous.

  “Feels vulnerable, doesn’t it,” she murmured with a smile. “Even though we’re all alone.”

  “Yes…it does. But I’m game.”

  She watched him lose his slacks, loving the play of moonlight over the strength and power and masculine beauty of his lower body.

  When he mounted the bike, she eased up on him without hesitation and Spike groaned and sh
uddered as their bodies came together. So did she.

  Their position meant she had to take control so she linked her arms around his neck and used his heavy shoulders for leverage. As she moved, he talked roughly in her ear, saying incredibly erotic things while his hands traveled all over her hips and her back and her legs. Everything faded away as the current flowing between them went from a buzzing hum to a burning roar.

  “Wait, Mad,” he said breathlessly. “I’m going to…Mad, I’m about to…”

  She was too far gone to stop, too lost in where they were joined, in the feel of him, in the giddy sense that she was the one driving them into the wall they were about to slam against.

  “Mad, I need to pull out—Oh…Mad.”

  The inferno overtook both of them at the same time. As she cried out, he let loose with a guttural shout in her ear, going rigid underneath her and then spasming and jerking. Her own waves took her away and she grabbed on to him, frightened of the intensity. He was the only solid thing in the world and she must have been the same to him because he was desperately holding her in his hard arms.

  They stayed locked together for the longest time, his hands smoothing gently up and down her back. Dizzy, disconnected from everything but him, she burrowed into his neck, rubbing her face in the short hair at his nape. The air between their bodies was a heady perfume, mingling with the summer night.

  I love you, she thought.

  And even though it was stupid, she wanted to tell him anyway. Probably because after what they’d just done, she was comfortable being reckless.

  “Spike,” she whispered.

  “What?” His voice was husky.

  “I—”

  From over Spike’s shoulder, she saw a pair of headlights come over the hill.

  “Oh, my God!” She leaped off him and yanked her blouse into place, her skirt fluttering down where it needed to be. She grabbed for his pants, but the car was already slowing down, lights trained on her.

  She looked behind her, expecting to see Spike half-naked and cupping his manhood. Instead there was nothing but the bike. Where had he—

  The sedan pulled up and its driver’s side window went down. An older gentleman smiled at her with concern.

  “Miss? Are you okay?”

  The white-haired woman beside him in the car leaned around. “Do you need a ride somewhere, dear?”

  Mad shook her head and tried to look unruffled. “Oh, no. I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

  The man didn’t seem convinced. “That’s an awfully big bike for a woman to handle by herself.”

  Mad glanced at the Harley. “Yes…ah…”

  She brought her arms up and linked them across her chest.

  The woman in the car laughed softly. “Come on, Jim. Let’s leave her.”

  The man looked over at who was undoubtedly his wife. “That’s not right—”

  “She’s not alone, Jim.”

  Mad glanced down…and realized a pair of very long, very man-size slacks were still attached to her hand.

  She wasn’t sure whether Jim blushed more or she did. And the gentleman cleared his throat awkwardly, though his wife was looking amused in a nostalgic way.

  “Evenin’, then,” the husband said.

  “Thanks for stopping,” Mad replied. After they took off, she hissed, “Spike? Where are you?”

  Spike popped out from behind a massive oak and planted his hands on his hips. He chuckled wryly.

  “If any of this green stuff is poison ivy, I’m in deep trouble.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The following morning, the first thing that went through Spike’s mind was that he wanted to make it work with Mad. Or at least give it a shot.

  It was crazy to let this thing with her go. No way he was going to find anyone else like her so she was worth taking the chance of coming forward again.

  She was the one for him. And he was head over heels.

  Man, the night before, when he’d watched her walk down to her own bedroom by herself, he’d had to fight to keep from following her. And it wasn’t about sex. He wanted to sleep next to her. Wake up with her. Loll around in bed as the sun rose, talking about nothing with her.

  Maybe if he told her about his past, she could accept it, accept him. And as for her sailing schedule, he was willing to wait for her on land while she did her thing. The distance would kill him…but it wasn’t like he could see himself with anyone else.

  Spike rubbed the back of his neck, anxious as hell now that he’d decided to try to talk with her. How would she take what he’d done? If he explained what had happened, would she see him as a monster? He didn’t know how he would handle that.

  And when should he spring it on her? Maybe he should wait until it was time to go and ask her to spend a couple of days with him. They could get away, go some place quiet like a B&B. He could hold her and talk to her and then they could—

  He thought about what they’d done on his Harley and broke out in a hot sweat. Yeah, maybe they could do some more of that, too.

  Time for a shower. Definitely.

  Ten minutes later, he was about to get dressed when he heard a knock. Cinching the towel around his waist a little tighter, and hoping like hell it was Mad, he opened the door.

  Amelia was on the other side dressed in a white satin robe. “I’m sorry to bother you, but may I talk to you for a moment?”

  He frowned. “Give me a minute to get dressed.”

  The second the words left him he thought, Why had she come at the crack of dawn? Something wasn’t right. “Actually, now’s not a good time.”

  “It won’t take long.”

  He was about to say no when the woman’s eyes got to him. They were dark with raw pain. Regret. Sadness. In fact, she looked as if she were going to burst into tears.

  He stepped back and she came in. Mindful of what Mad had said about the woman, Spike left the door open and grabbed for his button-down shirt. Last thing he needed was Mad’s half sister all over him.

  “What’s this about?” he asked, pulling the shirt on and crossing the two halves over his chest.

  Amelia’s words were rushed, as if she’d practiced them. Maybe for quite a while. “I’ve made some terrible mistakes. Done things I need to apologize for. Things that were cruel.”

  “To Mad.”

  “Yes, to Madeline. And to others. Last night, I went to her room before dinner to apologize. Although even if you hadn’t interrupted us, I doubt she would have heard me out.”

  “Look, if you’ve come here because you want me to help you with her—”

  “I have.”

  “I can’t do that. Mad’s a grown-up. So are you.”

  Amelia looked out a window, avoiding his stare, blinking a lot. “Of course, you’re right. It’s just…have you ever wished you could take something back? Take…things back. Undo actions?”

  Running theme of his life, Spike thought, that constant reassessment of the past. At least for him, he kept coming to the same conclusion, that what he’d done was heinous but…justified by the need to protect someone who couldn’t defend herself against a larger, deadly opponent.

  Amelia clearly had no such perspective on her acts.

  “It hasn’t been—” Her voice cracked. “It hasn’t been until recently that I’ve realized how much one person can make another hurt.”

  When he didn’t reply, she dropped her head, the defeat in her totally at odds with her incredible beauty. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”

  “It’s never too late,” he said, wanting to ease her because her misery was so complete.

  Amelia looked over at him, her gray eyes shining with tears. “Sometimes…sometimes it is. And it appears I’ve learned that too late.”

  Wait a minute, Spike thought. That expression. That look…something about it triggered his memory. Yes, from his days at La Nuit…Stefan Reichter…Amelia.

  Holy…Moses.

  Stefan Reichter had always been a high-flying, great-looking, tr
ust fund junkie; a bachelor catch if there ever was one. The gossips had maintained he’d loved only one woman, a secret woman whom he’d had a long dramatic love affair with before meeting this new, pregnant wife of his. Evidently, the secret lover had spent a couple of years giving the jet-setting playboy a run for his money—and had made him miserable by winning.

  The woman’s identity had never been known because evidently she’d told him she wouldn’t see him in public because he was too Euro-trashy for her tastes. According to city whispers, Stefan had broken it off with this phantom about a year ago because he couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Good Lord,” Spike said. “You were Stephan’s…”

  And that’s why Spike had thought he’d seen Amelia before. It had been at La Nuit right before he’d left. She’d looked as crushed as she did now…and she’d been sitting at a table with Stefan and Estella.

  Amelia started to leave, as if she wished she hadn’t come, as if she feared what he was remembering. As she passed him in the doorway, he shook his head.

  “You were the one, weren’t you. Stefan’s secret lover who broke his heart.” Amelia stumbled at the name and Spike caught her with his hand. “You’re the one.”

  * * *

  Mad slipped out of her bedroom door and padded down the hall. It was ridiculous to feel like she was sneaking around when she was an adult, but that’s what it seemed like.

  During the long night hours, she’d despaired that she and Spike weren’t laying together. They had so little time left and it was passing quickly. And that was why she needed to be with him now, before the day got rolling, before the shareholders arrived, before…she had to say goodbye to him when there were eyes around.

  Keeping as quiet as possible, she jogged down the corridor and went around the corner—

  She skidded to a halt. Amelia was standing in Spike’s doorway wearing a silk robe. Spike was gripping the woman’s arm urgently…while wearing just a towel and an open shirt. He looked as if he were trying to pull her back inside.

  Mad’s first response was that there must be some kind of explanation. Spike wouldn’t do that to her. He wouldn’t—

  “You’re the one,” he said.