Big Bad Marine

by Jackie Ashenden

  So all she did was push her half-drunk coffee away. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  But she filed the comment away for future reference all the same.

  4

  West glowered out the front windshield as they drove along the highway, while Rose sat beside him with her feet on the dash again. One foot was tapping to the music on the stereo – some band he hadn’t heard of but were apparently her favorite – and her attention was on the road ahead, her lips moving as she sang silently along. Silent being the operative word.

  Ever since they’d left the diner, she’d been quiet in the passenger seat. Every so often she’d make some kind of observation about where they were going or about the passing scenery, but apart from that…nothing else. There were no teasing, flirtatious comments. No ostentatious crossing of her legs. No licking her lips or flicking her hair. And definitely no wicked glances from underneath her long golden lashes. No arguing with him either.

  She was behaving herself and for some reason he couldn’t explain, he didn’t like it.

  Rose had always been a live wire, all spitting sparks and crackling electricity. Driving him fucking nuts with her sassy comebacks and naughty looks, and the glints of heat in her blue eyes. And even though all of that wasn’t appropriate and he’d done the right thing by setting some boundaries, the quietness in the car felt wrong. As if he’d stuffed her spirit into too small a box and taped the lid shut.

  Yeah, but what’s the alternative?

  And that was the problem. There was no alternative. Rose without boundaries challenged him in a way that wasn’t good for either of them and it couldn’t be allowed to continue.

  He had to set some fucking limits, goddammit.

  You like her bratty, that’s your problem.

  That was, unfortunately, true. He knew himself. He knew what he liked and that kind of shit had always turned him on.

  He never used to have a problem with his sexual nature, but after that night when he’d lost his temper with Carly, and she’d gone out drinking with Ian Jenkins just to spite him, delivering spankings to disobedient brats seemed a little too close to home.

  He’d indulged himself rarely since and only with women who knew exactly what they were letting themselves in for. Definitely not with an innocent twenty-one-year-old he’d known since she was sixteen. And yeah, she was innocent, regardless of the status of her virginity. He’d started out protecting her and that’s what he was going to continue to do not…

  Bending her over your knee and spanking that fine little ass?

  All the blood in his body rushed south and he shifted in his seat, his jeans suddenly and unexpectedly way too tight.

  Holy fuck, what was wrong with him? He could not be getting hard at thoughts of Rose. No fucking way.

  “So, what?” he said into the silence, his tone more belligerent than he wanted it to be. “You got no conversation for me?”

  Her gaze was a bright flash of blue as she glanced at him. “Hey, just trying not to earn myself another strike.”

  “If you can’t think of anything to say beyond arguing or flirting, then you’ve got a problem, Rosie.”

  She made an annoyed sound. “Don’t call me Rosie, asshole.”

  “’Asshole’ is a striking offence,” West reminded her, enjoying the irritated way she shifted in her seat. “Anyway, why not? You never used to have an issue with it?” And she hadn’t. He’d called her Rosie all the time once.

  “Maybe because I’m not sixteen anymore.”

  Yeah, she’s a woman now. And you can’t say you haven’t noticed.

  No, he couldn’t. In fact, he’d started noticing ever since she’d begun texting him and mouthing off, and indulging in all of that bratty behavior.

  But there was no point dwelling on it when he couldn’t do anything about it. Little Rose Hammond was out of bounds and would be forever.

  Which reminded him…

  “Is this the point in the trip where we discuss your crush on me?”

  There was a resounding silence.

  Probably not the best of subjects, but there wasn’t any point pussyfooting around it. She needed to know the score sooner rather than later.

  Nothing to do with making her as uncomfortable as she’s making you.

  No. No it wasn’t.

  “I haven’t…” She stopped, shifting irritably again, and he found his attention drawn to her slender thighs encased in tight blue jeans, and her perfect little feet. Would those small toes curl if he put his hands on her? If he stroked her? If he— “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  West tightened his grip on the wheel, forcing the persistent dick thoughts away. “Too bad,” he said flatly. “Because you need to hear a few things.”

  It was wrong to take his fraying temper out on her, but too bad. If she hadn’t been sashaying around, wiggling that butt of hers and sticking those pretty tits in his face at every given opportunity, then this wouldn’t be a problem.

  Nothing to do with you not being able to deal, uh huh. Nope.

  “West—”

  “It’s not going to happen, little girl,” he went on roughly, cutting her off. “You’re Duchess’s sister and you’re too young, and we work together. So all those sexy texts, flirting, and attention getting is futile, because it’s not going to get me to change my mind. Are we clear?”

  Fuck, he’d sounded too hard, too angry, and he knew it. But it was too late now.

  There was a long silence.

  He flicked her a glance. “I said, are we clear?”

  Her cheeks were very pink, betraying her embarrassment, but there was something defiant in her blue eyes. Something that made him catch his breath. “Why not?” she asked.

  West pulled his attention back to the road. “You don’t want to argue with me, right now,” he said tightly.

  “I’m not arguing,” she pointed out. “I only asked a question.”

  That she was right did not help his temper. Though, why he was getting so wound up, he had no idea. He wasn’t going to suddenly stop the Chevy, pull over, and turn her over his knee right here on the side of the road. Hell no. He was perfectly in control of himself the way he always was.

  Not like Ian, who’d always been at the mercy of his own desires and hadn’t seen any need to control them or rein them in. Gambling. Drugs. Women.

  You were his friend. You liked to indulge yourself.

  His knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. Yeah, and those days were over. They were gone. He wasn’t like Ian, not anymore.

  “I just told you why not,” he said, managing to keep his voice firm and level, which given his current mood was something of a triumph.

  “I’m too young and I’m Duchess’s sister,” Rose echoed. “Oh yeah, and we work together. That it?”

  “Why? You need another reason?” She’d better not. He didn’t want to scare her with the truth. Then again, he was prepared to if necessary. If she pushed him…

  You’re hoping she’ll push you.

  West’s jaw was so tight it ached.

  “Yeah, you know, I think I might,” Rose said, oblivious to his tension. “For example, you didn’t say that you didn’t want me.”

  Shit. Why hadn’t he said that? Ah, but he knew why.

  You don’t want to lie to her.

  “I don’t want you,” he lied, staring out the windshield, making sure his voice was as hard and as cold as he could get it. “I like women not little girls.”

  It was a cruel thing to say and he knew it would hurt her. Rose had always been so impatient to be seen as an adult by those around her. To be part of the team. To be accepted by them. And that had been tough when she was so much younger than everyone else.

  But fuck, what was he supposed to say? He couldn’t give her any encouragement. Not a single shred.

  Rose said nothing, but he could feel her gaze on him, far too sharp and perceptive for his liking. She wasn’t a stupid woman, not by any stretch, and he’d always liked that abo
ut her. Though, not so much now.

  “Why are you lying, West?” she asked eventually, her voice quiet.

  Something tightened inside him.

  “I’m not lying.” It came out as more of a growl than anything else.

  “Right.”

  Rose was quiet for another couple of moments, but again he could feel the weight of her gaze on him, and the urge to stop the car, show her why pushing him like this was a bad thing, almost overwhelming.

  “So, you won’t mind if I do this then, will you?” she said and put one small hand experimentally on his thigh.

  As touches went it wasn’t anything much. Her fingers weren’t anywhere near his cock, for example. Yet the moment her hand rested on him, heat streaked through him, blazing like the tail of a comet.

  It was all he could do to keep still.

  She’d hugged him back in the office yesterday and taken by surprise, he’d pushed her away pretty damn quickly. But that hug hadn’t affected him like this small touch was doing right now.

  Jesus Christ.

  She was watching him again, the need to pull the car over and really give her something to stare about gripping him tight.

  You’re letting her do this to you. Set some fucking boundaries.

  “Did I say you could touch me?” He didn’t look at her this time. Forcing himself to go hard and cold. To not let the brush of her fingers have any effect on him at all.

  “No, but—”

  “Take your fucking hand off me.”

  Instantly, she jerked it away.

  “Now apologize,” he demanded, gripping the wheel so tight he could have broken it in half.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice sounded small. “I didn’t mean to. I was just…” She stopped and then repeated, “Sorry.”

  The waves of hurt rolling off her were almost palpable.

  You’re a fucking asshole taking it out on her.

  Yeah, he was. Because it wasn’t her fault that his cock should know better than to get hard for her. And she didn’t know what kind of man he really was right down deep inside.

  But maybe if she did, she’d understand.

  Did he want that though? Did he want to tell her exactly why pushing him was a very bad idea? It would change the way she saw him that was for sure, and not for the better. She’d never been afraid of him, had always looked at him like he was her own personal hero, even when she’d been a sulky teenager resenting his presence in her and Lily’s lives. And he’d liked that. No, after Carly and his father’s rejection of him, he’d needed it.

  But this couldn’t go on. They had another few days in each other’s presence and he couldn’t have her testing him. She needed to know what she was messing with and if that ended up with her being scared of him then that was too bad. He’d have to suck it up.

  He’d always been about protecting her, even now.

  West pulled the Chevy off the highway and came to a stop, leaving the engine running. Then he turned in his seat and met Rose’s surprised blue stare.

  Cars raced by them, the sound of the air con rattling away.

  “It’s not you, darlin.” He held her gaze with his. “The problem is me.

  West’s gray eyes were dark and there was something very direct in them. Something that made tension coil tightly in her gut.

  She shouldn’t have touched him, she already knew that. It had been a mistake, which was galling. Because she’d been trying so hard to be good ever since they’d left the diner. She’d stayed quiet, reining in her restlessness and sticking to tapping her foot in time with the music, and singing under her breath.

  She hadn’t argued or flirted, or wiggled her butt, not even once.

  But she hadn’t been able to shake the sense that he was annoyed with her and she didn’t know why. Because she’d been doing everything he said and acting like a responsible adult.

  Except you weren’t, were you? You touched him.

  That had been stupid. But he’d brought up the subject of her crush on him, and…well. She’d been embarrassed and then she’d gotten pissed.

  Because while the reasons he’d given her for why it would never work between them were valid, he hadn’t mentioned the most important one of all: that he didn’t want her.

  She didn’t know why she’d thought he was lying when he immediately tried to correct the omission, but she did. And then she hadn’t been able to resist pushing him to discover the truth, reaching out to touch his hard, muscled thigh…

  He’d been so hot that her fingertips felt almost seared.

  “What do mean the problem is you?” she asked, curling her fingers against her palm and trying to ignore how the way he’d demanded she take her hand off him, as if she’d disgusted him, had hurt.

  West’s gaze became even more focused. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “You didn’t.” A pointless denial when he saw through her so easily, yet saying it anyway, because saying it made it true. And she didn’t want to be hurt by West O’Connor. She didn’t want him to matter as much as he did.

  “Don’t lie to me, little girl.”

  Her anger and hurt twined into a thick, knotted rope that pulled tight inside her. “You mean like the way you lied to me just now?”

  A heavy silence fell.

  More cars shot by on the highway next to them, the low growl of the Chevy’s engine the only other sound.

  “You want another reason why you and I will never happen?” West’s rough, husky voice was hard. “I got tastes that aren’t for little girls like you.”

  “Tastes?” She frowned. “What do you mean tastes?”

  His gaze didn’t flicker. “I like to punish women.”

  Shock pulsed down her spine, along with something hot that didn’t make any sense at all. “What? Like…” She stopped, her brain flailing around, trying to come up with some examples.

  She wasn’t a total innocent. She’d had one lover – a guy from high school – and it hadn’t been anything to write home about. But she had an internet connection and a healthy curiosity, and she knew about certain sexual predilections. Was West a guy who liked to whip people or what? A sadist?

  “I like to spank them,” he said, without emphasis. “And I like to restrain them. I like to be in charge. And I also like it hard and rough.”

  The words seemed to echo in the small space of the car, bouncing off the windows, making the atmosphere even more tense than it already was.

  He liked to spank women. Restrain them. Be in charge…

  Rose’s mouth had gone dry and her heart was beating very loudly in her ears. The steady, direct look in his eyes seemed to fill the entire world.

  He was a protector. He’d made her feel safe after Mason had attacked her, when she’d thought she’d never feel safe again.

  And yet…he punished women. He hurt them.

  Like Mason hurt you.

  “I don’t understand,” she forced out. “What—”

  “I don’t need you to understand,” West interrupted. “All you need is to know is that when I say it can’t happen between us, I mean it can’t happen.”

  Rose blinked. “But…why tell me?”

  There was an intensity in his gaze that made her breath catch hard in her throat. “Because you won’t leave it alone. You keep pushing me, darlin’. And I have a limit.”

  “So, what happens when you reach that limit?”

  But West was already turning away, looking out the driver’s side window at the traffic. “Yeah, that’s something you definitely don’t want to find out.”

  No, she didn’t. Did she?

  West pulled the car back on the highway and they resumed driving, but the tension in the space between them was far too thick for comfort.

  She couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said. Punishment. Spanking. God, she’d taunted him with that back at the office the day before and his expression had become harder than granite.

  Rose turned her head away and looked out her own windo
w, her breathing coming shorter, faster. She was so physically conscious of him, the long, muscular length of his body in the driver’s seat. His hard, powerful thighs. His large, long-fingered hands.

  What would it feel like if he did…spank her? If he was rough with her? Would she like it? Or would it be scary?

  There was a heavy ache between her legs, heat burning in her blood.

  She shifted in her seat again, trying to get comfortable and failing, knowing the answer to those questions already and feeling weird about it.

  She would like it. And it would be scary. Frightening and thrilling, and exciting all at once. Which didn’t make any sense.

  Mason had punished her. Had hurt her. And she hadn’t found that anything but terrifying. Yet the thought of West turning her over his knee and putting his hand on her ass…

  The ache between her thighs became more insistent.

  West leaned forward and punched one of the buttons on the stereo, the cheerful pop that had been playing replaced by violins and piano, and some woman screeching. Opera again.

  What would he do if she changed the station back? Would he pull the car over again? Would he punish her? Drag her over his knee, jerk her jeans down? Raise his hand? Give her a swat?

  Her breath caught. That thought should scare her, not turn her on. God, what was wrong with her?

  Outside, the heat of the afternoon was turning into a hot, lingering evening, which meant they should probably be on the lookout for a motel for the night. Except, the dry looking plains stretching out on either side of the highway didn’t look hospitable.

  She couldn’t stop thinking about what West had told her. He had a limit, he’d said. And she didn’t want to know what he’d do if she pushed him to that limit. Which seemed to imply a punishment that didn’t involve simply sending her home.

  “I like to spank them...I like to be in charge.”

  So, did that meant that he…wanted to do those things to her?

  The thought sat in her head, glowing like a neon sign. Was that why his expression had gotten so hard back at the office and he’d suddenly started talking about rules? Because she pushed him? Because she affected him?