Tempted & Taken

by Rhenna Morgan

From the day she’d heard Knox’s name, she’d known he’d be a part of her dreams. The foundation for her future. She’d just had no idea how much.

  “You’re watching me again,” Knox mumbled without opening his eyes.

  She loved his sleepy, grumble voice. Deep, rich and thick with wickedness. “If your brothers saw you this still and so long away from your keyboards, they’d accuse me of brainwashing you.”

  His lips curled in a lazy smile and his eyelids lifted. In the setting sun, his eyes matched the gray tones of the softer clouds overhead. “They know better.”

  She cocked her head. “Know what?”

  He cupped the side of her face, his thumb dragging tenderly along the edge of her jaw and his gaze softening. “That I don’t need it anymore. The code kept me entertained. The hacks gave me challenge. But at the end of the day, all I wanted was something of my own. Someone of my own. No need to build something new or break through a wall, when you’ve already got perfection.”

  Her stomach pitched and swirled to match the birds singing over the ocean, and her heart grew so light it was a wonder it stayed rooted in her chest. “You don’t want to build anything new?”

  He grinned and his eyes twinkled. “Do orgasms count? Because I’m pretty inspired to build plenty of those.”

  Boy, was he. From the time they’d boarded the plane in St. Petersburg, he’d made her pleasure and comfort paramount in all things. Totally indulgent in his sometimes overbearing alpha way.

  But she loved it.

  Dream as if you’ll live forever. Live as if you’ll die tomorrow.

  It was right there. Winking up at her from her skin and offering encouragement. Daring her to bridge the one topic she’d been too nervous to bring up. But this was Knox. Her husband. Her foundation.

  She focused on the beautiful script and pulled in a slow breath. “You know there are things we could build together.”

  At first, only silence echoed back at her, the soft wind and waves filling the space between them. She traced one ear of her wolf, her finger shaking as she waited.

  He guided her face to his. “I’d build anything with you.”

  She swallowed hard and pressed her palm against his chest. “Even a family?”

  An alertness she hadn’t seen in him in days fired bright behind his eyes. Before she could gauge his intent, he pushed himself up on one elbow and rolled her to her back so he hovered above her. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

  Oh, dear. She’d gone all the wrong way with this. Though, on the surface he didn’t seem to be too upset with the direction things had gone, so perhaps the miscalculation wasn’t a bad one. “I’m not pregnant if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  His gaze roamed her face and pure wonder lit his features.

  Definitely, not a bad reaction. One she could work with, if she dared.

  She touched her finger to his lips and whispered, “But I’d like to be.”

  In a flash, the air around them went from cool and comfortable to supercharged and heated, the wind licking against her skin with the same intensity as his gaze. “How long does it take for those pills to leave your system?”

  There he was. Her take charge, confident man awakened to a new challenge and ready to get things underway. She giggled despite the serious topic. “I have no idea.”

  “We’ll call Zeke,” he said, positioning himself between her thighs. With only his board shorts and her bikini between them, there was no missing his enthusiasm or willingness to get started.

  She opened her thighs wider and cocked her knees, letting him settle into the cradle of her hips. “We don’t have to do anything right away. I just wanted to know how you felt about it.”

  “Is your dream having babies?”

  God, yes. To her mind there was no better gift—no better expression of love between two people than a child. “Someday, yes.”

  He rolled his hips against hers, the naughty gleam in his eyes gaining more depth. “How many?”

  Her breath caught in her throat, the perfect press of his shaft against her sending her thoughts thoroughly off track. “I don’t know. I’d be happy with one, but would like to have two.”

  The touch of his warm hand along her nape and the swoosh of her swim top coming untied wrenched her back to reality. “What are you doing?”

  He peeled the fabric away, baring her breasts to the air’s welcome coolness and palmed one mound. “Life’s short. Dream big, right?”

  Life was short. Perilously so. And with Knox every dream seemed bigger. Brighter. “We’re outside,” she whispered and arched into his touch.

  “Don’t care.” He skimmed his lips against hers. “Besides, what’s the point in a private beach if you can’t enjoy a little decadence while it’s yours.”

  She tangled her hands in his hair and wrapped her legs around his hips. He was right. If there was ever a time to chase her dreams with the man she loved, it was right now. Protected in his arms while paradise hummed around them. “You know I took a pill this morning.”

  He smiled against her lips and muttered, “You know how I feel about firewalls.”

  Laughing, she nipped his lower lip. “Think you can get one past the goalie, do you?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. But you can bet your sweet ass I’m gonna try.”

  * * * * *

  To purchase and read more books by Rhenna Morgan, please visit Rhenna’s website here or at rhennamorgan.com.

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  Acknowledgments

  Diving into Knox’s book was daunting simply because the mere thought of networks, firewalls and IP addresses made me whimper. Fortunately, I know this guy by the name of Jay Donovan who is all things techy-goodness. Not only does he keep my website safe and humming, but he’s also happy to talk dastardly plots and cyber-shenanigans—a handy perk for an author faced with creating a wicked smooth character like Knox.

  Once again, Angela James gets the giant-size high-five for having my back and making Knox and Darya’s story totally rock. Swear to God, if anyone tries to take her away from me, I’m sending the brothers to intervene on my behalf.

  And of course, I have to thank my rock-solid posse—Cori Deyoe, Juliette Cross, Kyra Jacobs, Audrey Carlan, Dena Garson and most importantly my amazing daughters. Without each of you to keep me grounded, laughing, and overflowing with love and support, I’d be utterly lost.

  Go back to the beginning of the MEN OF HAVEN in ROUGH & TUMBLE by Rhenna Morgan.

  “ROUGH & TUMBLE by Rhenna Morgan will warm your heart and melt your panties.”

  —#1 New York Times bestselling author Audrey Carlan (Calendar Girl series)

  Rough & Tumble

  by Rhenna Morgan

  Chapter One

  Nothing like a New Year’s Eve drunk-sister-search-and-rescue to top off a chaos-laden twelve-hour workday. Vivienne dialed Shinedown’s newest release from full blast to almost nothing and whipped her Honda hybrid into a pay-by-the-hour lot in the heart of Dallas’s Deep Ellum. Five freaking weekends in a row Callie had pulled this crap, with way too many random SOS calls before her current streak.

  At least this place was in a decent part of town. Across the street, men and women milled outside a new bar styled like an old-fashioned pub called The Den, with patrons dressed in everything from T-shirts and faded jeans, to leather riding gear and motorcycle boots. Not one of them looked like they were calling the party quits anytime soon.

  Viv tucked her purse beneath the seat, stashed her key fob in her pocket, and strode into the humid January night. Her knockoff Jimmy Choos clicked against the aged blacktop, and coo
l fog misted her cheeks.

  Off to one side, an appreciative whistle sounded between low, masculine voices.

  She kept her head down, hustled through the dark double doors and into a cramped, black-walled foyer. A crazy-big bouncer with mocha skin and dreads leaned against the doorjamb between her and the main bar, his attention centered on a stunning brunette in a soft pink wifebeater, jeans and stilettos.

  The doors behind her clanged shut.

  Pushing to full height, the bouncer warily scanned Viv head to toe. Hard to blame the guy. Outside of health inspectors and liquor licensing agents, they probably didn’t get many suits in here, and she’d bet none of them showed in silk shirts.

  “ID,” he said.

  “I’m not here to stay. I just need to find someone.”

  He smirked and crossed his arms. “Can’t break the rules, momma. No ID, no party.”

  “I don’t want a party, I want to pick up my sister and then I’m out. She said she’d be up front. About my height, light brown, curly hair and three sheets to the wind?”

  “You must mean Callie,” the brunette said. “She was up here about an hour ago mumbling something about sissy, so I’m guessing you’re her.” She leaned into Scary Bouncer Dude’s formidable chest, grinned up at him, and stroked his biceps with an almost absentminded reverence. “May as well let her in. If you don’t, Trev will spend closing time hearing his waitresses bitch about cleaning up puke.”

  Too bad Viv didn’t have someone to bitch to about getting puke detail. Callie sure as heck never listened.

  Bouncer dude stared Viv down and slid his mammoth hand far enough south he palmed the brunette’s ass. He jerked his head toward the room beyond the opening. “Make it quick. You might be old enough, but the cops have been in three times tonight chomping to bust our balls on any write-up they can find.”

  Finally, something in her night that didn’t require extra time and trouble. Though if she’d been smart, she’d have grabbed her ID before she came in.

  “Smart move, chief.” The woman tagged him with a fast but none-too-innocent kiss, winked and motioned for Viv to follow. “Come on. I’ll show you where she is.”

  An even better break. The last search and rescue had taken over thirty minutes in a techno dance bar. She’d finally found Callie passed out under a set of stairs not far from the main speakers, but the ringing in Viv’s ears had lasted for days. At least this time she’d have a tour guide and an extra pair of hands.

  The place was as eclectic on the inside as it was out. Rock and movie collectibles hung on exposed brick walls and made the place look like it’d been around for years even though it reeked of new. Every table was packed. Waitresses navigated overflowing trays between the bustling crowd, and Five Finger Death Punch vibrated loud enough to make conversation a challenge.

  The brunette smiled and semi-yelled over one shoulder, never breaking her hip-slinging stride. “Nice turnout for an opening week, yeah?”

  Well, that explained the new smell. “I don’t do crowds.” At least not this kind. Signing her dad’s Do Not Resuscitate after a barroom brawl had pretty much cured her of smoky, dark and wild. “It looks like a great place, though.”

  The woman paused where the bar opened to a whole different area and scanned Viv’s outfit. “From the looks of things, you could use a crowd to loosen up.” She shrugged and motioned toward the rear of the room. “Corner booth. Last I saw your girl she was propped up between two airheads almost as hammered as she was. And don’t mind Ivan. The cops are only hounding the owner, not the customers. My name’s Lily if you need anything.” And then she was gone, sauntering off to a pack of women whooping it up at the opposite end of the club.

  So much for an extra set of hands. At least this part of the bar was less crowded, scattered sitting areas with every kind of mismatched chair and sofa you could think of making it a whole lot easier to case the place.

  She wove her way across the stained black concrete floors toward the randomly decorated booths along the back. Overhead, high-end mini sparkle lights cast the room in a muted, sexy glow. Great for ambience, but horrid for picking drunk sisters out of a crowd. Still, Viv loved the look. She’d try the same thing in her own place if it wouldn’t ruin the tasteful uptown vibe in her new town house. Funky might be fun, but it wouldn’t help with resale.

  Laughter and a choking cloud of smoke mushroomed out from the corner booth.

  The instant Viv reached the table, the chatter died. Three guys, two girls and the stench of Acapulco Red—but no sister. “You guys see Callie?”

  A lanky man with messy curly blond hair eyed her beneath thirty-pound eyelids and grinned, not even bothering to hide the still smoldering joint. “’Sup.”

  The redhead cozied next to him smacked him on the shoulder and glowered. “She’s after Callie, Mac. Not stopping in for a late-night chat.” She reached across the table and handed Viv an unpaid bar tab. “She headed to the bathroom about ten minutes ago, but be sure you take this with you. She stuck me with the bill last night.”

  Seventy-eight bucks. A light night for New Year’s Eve, which was a damn good thing considering Viv’s bank balance. She tucked the tab in her pocket. “Which way to the bathroom?”

  The girl pointed toward a dark corridor. “Down that hall and on your left.”

  Viv strode that direction, not bothering with any follow-up niceties. Odds were good they wouldn’t remember her in the morning, let alone five minutes from now.

  Inside the hallway, the steady drone of music and laughter plunged to background noise. Two scowling women pranced past her headed back into the bar. One glanced over her shoulder and shook her head at Viv. “May as well head to the one up front. Someone’s in that one and isn’t coming out anytime soon from the sound of things.”

  Well, shit. This was going to be fun. She wiggled the knob. “Callie?”

  God, she hoped it was her sister in there. Knowing her luck, she was interrupting a New Year’s booty call. Although, if that were the case, they were doing it wrong because it was way too quiet. She tried the knob again and knocked on the door. “Callie, it’s Viv. Open up.”

  Still no answer.

  Oh, to hell with it. She banged on the door and gave it the good old pissed-off-sister yell. “Callie, for the love of God, open the damned door! I want to go home.”

  A not so promising groan sounded from inside a second before the door marked Office at her right swung wide. A tall Adonis in jeans and a club T-shirt emblazoned with The Den’s edgy logo blocked the doorway, his sky blue eyes alert in a way that shouldn’t be possible past 1:00 a.m.

  Two men filled the space behind him, one shirtless with arms braced on the top of a desk, and another leaning close, studying the shirtless guy’s shoulder. No wait, he wasn’t studying it, he was stitching it, which explained the seriously bloody shirt on the floor.

  “Got more bathrooms up front. No need to break down the damned door.” Adonis Man ambled toward her, zigzagging his attention between her and the bathroom. “There a problem?”

  Dear God in heaven, now that the Adonis had moved out of the way, the shirtless guy was on full, mouthwatering display, and he was every book boyfriend and indecent fantasy rolled up into one. A wrestler’s body, not too big and not too lean, but one hundred percent solid. A huge tattoo covered his back, a gnarled and aged tree with a compass worked into the gothic design. And his ass. Oh hell, that ass was worth every torturous hour in front of her tonight. The only thing better than seeing it in seriously faded Levi’s would be seeing it naked.

  “Hey,” Adonis said. “You gonna ogle my brother all night, or tell me why you’re banging down one of my doors?”

  They were brothers? No way. Adonis was all...well, Adonis. The other guy was tall, dark and dirty.

  Fantasy Man peered over his injured shoulder. Shrewd, al
most angry eyes lasered on her, just as dark as his near-black hair. A chunk of the inky locks had escaped his ponytail and fell over his forehead. His closely cropped beard gave him a sinister and deadly edge that probably kept most people at a distance, but his lips could lull half the women in Texas through hell if it meant they’d get a taste.

  Viv shook her head and coughed while her mind clambered its way up from Smuttville. “Um...” Her heart thrummed to the point she thought her head would float off her shoulders, and her tongue was so dry it wouldn’t work right. “I think my sister’s passed out in there. I just want to get her home.”

  Adonis knocked on the door and gave the knob a much firmer twist than Viv had. “Zeke, toss me the keys off the desk.”

  Before either of the men could move, the lock on the door popped and the door creaked open a few inches. “Vivie?” Callie’s mascara-streaked face flashed a second before the door slipped shut again.

  Months of training kicked in and Viv lurched forward, easing open the door and slipping inside. “I’ve got it now. Give me a minute to get her cleaned up and gather her stuff.”

  Adonis blocked the door with his foot. The black, fancy cowboy boots probably cost more than a month’s mortgage payment, which seemed a shame considering it didn’t look like she’d be able to pay her next one. “You sure you don’t need help?”

  “Nope.” She snatched a few towels out of the dispenser and wetted them, keeping one eye on Callie where she semi-dozed against the wall. “We’ve done this before. I just need a few minutes and a clear path.”

  “All right. My name’s Trevor if you need me. You know where we are if you change your mind.” He eased his foot away, grinned and shook his head.

  “Oh!” Viv caught the door before it could close all the way and pulled the bar tab out of her pocket. “My sister ran up a tab. Could you hold this at the bar for me and let me pay it after I get her out to the car? I need to grab my purse first.”

  He backtracked, eyeballed Callie behind her, and crumpled the receipt. “I’d say you’ve already covered tonight.” He turned for the office. “We’ll call it even.”