Rogue (Phoenix Rising)

by Brynley Blake

  The wind is low, and we’ve barely moved in the last hour. I glance at Noah, who looks like some sort of brooding Adonis in board shorts and a black tank top that reveals his muscular forearms. He looks even more dangerously good-looking here on the boat than he did in Vegas, especially with his dark hair ruffled by the wind and a day’s growth of beard darkening his already sexy jawline. I have never felt such a visceral attraction to someone—it’s sheer, unadulterated chemistry.

  He feels it, too. Why else would he have followed me halfway across the world if he didn’t want to finish what we started that night in Vegas? Of course there’s Liam’s list, and it means more to me than I can ever tell him to have it back. I was heartbroken when I realized it was gone. But I’m sure he could have found another way to return it. Instead, he’d followed me to the Philippines, offered to help with Liam’s bucket list, invited me to spend ten days alone on his boat with him, and then made me come so hard I almost cried from the sheer intensity of it. I’ve never met anyone like him. What happened between us last night made me realize that he can push me to be the kind of woman I’ve always wished I could be. And he’s the one man who can help me cross “kinky sex” off Liam’s list.

  After I found the list, I did some research on kink and BDSM. And while I’m still not sure exactly what all “kinky sex” entails, there’s no doubt in my mind that Noah fits the description of a dominant alpha male to a tee. If anyone can show me, it’s him. Yesterday, he’d touched me like he’d owned me. He’d whispered all the wicked and depraved things he wanted to do to me while his hands travelled over my body, inflaming my skin as surely as his words had set fire to my imagination and my desire. Then he’d pinned my wrists over my head and taken what he wanted, and it was electrifying. He’d thought it would scare me, and it did a little, but it had also awakened something inside me that suddenly wanted to be free, like a caged bird that had felt the wind under its wings for the first time. And now I want to know more. To experience it. For Liam. Stop kidding yourself, Kenzie. I want it for myself. I’m curious about the way Noah makes me feel. Sexy. Luscious. Shameless. Wild. And somehow, strangely enough, brave.

  I know he wants me, too. He’s admitted as much, and he’d had a look of unvarnished hunger in his eyes when he’d held me down and run his hands erotically over every inch of me. It was the same look he’d had in Vegas when he’d pressed me against the window of his penthouse. And yesterday, just like it had in Vegas, my body responded like a Pavlovian dog. When Noah’s fingers had slipped into my swimsuit bottom, I’d been impossibly wet. Which he had used to his full advantage to torment my clit, until everything in my core gathered into one impossibly tight ball of need and… My sex clenches at the memory.

  But again, just like in Vegas, something made him pull back and stop short of giving me what I really crave—all of him. He seems to think he’s not good for me, but I’m pretty sure that’s my decision to make, not his. And I’m starting to think Noah Payne is just what I need.

  Unfortunately, he seems to think otherwise. He’s given me a wide berth since that amazing orgasm that left me reeling, and he’d spent the rest of the evening yesterday being painfully polite while going out of his way to avoid any physical contact. He refused my offer to help with dinner, telling me the kitchen was too small for both of us, and after a mostly silent meal, he’d told me to take the bed and he’d sleep on deck.

  This morning hasn’t been any better. He’d already eaten breakfast when I finally woke up, and I picked at a bagel on the deck while he silently steered us through the Pacific. I eventually brought out my sketchbook, thinking I’d get some island inspiration for the new line of wedding dresses I’m designing, but after a while I gave up on that and started sketching Noah.

  Staring at my drawing of him, I realize I’ve drawn him with the heat that was in his eyes last night. I want to see that look again. Now that I know Noah a little better, I can’t imagine exploring the things on Liam’s list with anyone else. The chemistry between us is palpable. He’s like my own personal power source, electrifying every nerve in my body whenever he’s near.

  The truth is, I probably should be scared of him. There’s a hint of ruthlessness about him that should send me running. But despite Noah’s uncompromising hardness and his almost cruel sensuality, I feel comfortable with him in a way that defies logic.

  Comfortable enough to tell him about Liam and what had really happened—at least up to the part about the rumors that Liam was illegally selling guns. I still don’t know if it’s true—I can’t believe that it could be—but according to Liam’s best friend and SEAL team brother Walker, an entire arsenal of Iraqi guns is missing, and NCIS is investigating the possibility of Liam’s involvement. I’ve never told anyone else about Pakistan, including Gemma and Charlotte. But somehow I found myself opening up to Noah. Maybe because I know he’s a Navy SEAL. Noah pretty much admitted it when he offered to help me with Liam’s list. I’m sure Walker or one of Liam’s other team members sent him to help me. And there’s no doubt it’s reassuring. SEALs may be cocky, hard-edged, and intimidating as hell, with a confidence that borders on arrogance, but they’re smart, always in control of themselves and the situation, and they take their duty to protect seriously. I sigh. The fact that he’s a SEAL also totally explains his dangerous bad-boy looks and demeanor, and that confident and authoritative way he controls everything. Including, it would seem, me.

  I glance over at him. He’s poring over a map of the islands, studiously avoiding me. I’d put on a swimsuit under a pair of cut-off denim shorts and a navy tank top this morning, and on impulse, I move so I’m standing in front of him. I grab the hem of my shirt and slowly peel it off, dropping it onto the cushioned seat. I brought two swimsuits, and today I’m wearing the skimpier of the two—a white two-piece that makes my boobs look bigger. Gemma and Charlotte would approve, but the effect is lost on Noah. He’s still completely absorbed in his task, doggedly ignoring me.

  “It’s hot,” I comment casually. He looks up briefly, grunts his agreement, and then goes back to the map. I walk across the deck to get the sunscreen, deliberately stopping several feet from him. With my back to him, I unbutton my shorts and ease them over my hips, wriggling my ass provocatively in the process. I turn back around. Nothing. He hadn’t even looked up.

  Well, so much for that. “Are we going to be here for a while?” I ask.

  “Yep. Until the wind picks up,” he answers, still obviously distracted by the map. You’d think it held the secret to a buried treasure the way he’s been studying it.

  I squirt some sunscreen in my hands and rub it deliberately over my stomach and up between my breasts. When I look up, he looks away quickly, but not before I catch him watching.

  “I’m going to cool off.”

  I’m hoping he’ll say he’ll join me, but he just mumbles, “Good idea,” then bends his head over the map again.

  With a sigh, I toss my shorts on top of my shirt and wander restlessly to the back of the boat. It doesn’t help that in addition to being sexually frustrated, I’m starting to get a little stir crazy trapped on this tiny boat. I hate to complain, especially since Noah is being nice enough to help me do this for Liam. And so far, it’s been amazing. The Philippines is arguably the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. Not that I have much to compare it to, but I can’t imagine anywhere looking more like paradise. Turquoise water, beautiful deserted islands with sugary white sand beaches fringed with palm trees that seem to be a dime a dozen here, and the occasional luxury yacht, sailboat, or what Noah told me yesterday is a bangka, a canoe-shaped boat with long flotation arms extending out on either side. But I want to DO something. This certainly isn’t what Liam had in mind when he made his bucket list. Liam lived larger than life. If he were here, he’d be doing something.

  He always said whoever had the most stories to tell at the old folk’s home won. My eyes well with tears at the reminder that no one will ever hear Liam’s stories now.


  That’s it. Life is short, and I’m not going to waste another minute of it. Liam’s list has opened my eyes to a new way of living, and dammit, I’m going to live.

  The wind has stopped completely, and so have we. Without thinking about it, I step out onto the platform at the back of the boat and dive into the water. It’s shockingly cold against my warm skin, and it feels divine. It’s invigorating, and so clear and blue that it hurts my eyes. I take a deep breath and dive under, relishing the freedom of finally doing something physical, my limbs moving freely in the refreshingly cold ocean. I’ve just spotted a colorful school of fish when something grabs me from behind. I struggle, the adrenaline kicking in as I fight to get away, but there’s no escaping as I’m dragged up to the surface, spluttering. I turn my head and find myself face-to-face with Noah. He’s scowling at me, his eyes flashing angrily.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Swimming. What are you doing, trying to drown me?”

  He relaxes his grip on me a little, but he doesn’t let go. “I just heard a splash and you were gone. I was worried.”

  My heart seems to have slowed to a gallop. “I’m fine. Or at least I was, until you scared me to death.”

  “Good. You should be scared. That was an idiotic thing to do, jumping in without telling me. In fact, I should put you over my knee for that and teach you a lesson. What if I hadn’t noticed and I’d left? What if you got a cramp or got caught in a current? Haven’t you ever heard of the buddy system?”

  I vaguely process the words he’s saying, but my body’s still reacting to the image of being hauled over those muscular thighs of his and what? Being spanked by him? Do people really do that? It’s so…barbaric. So why does it sound so hot? I realize he’s staring at me, waiting for an answer.

  “Sorry,” I say, but I’m not sorry at all, because he’s looking at me again like he’d like to devour me, and the feeling of his hands on my waist is searing my skin. “But I did tell you. If you hadn’t been completely ignoring me for the last twenty-four hours, maybe you would have heard me.”

  “I haven’t been ignoring you.” We both know it’s a lie. There’s something else in his eyes I can’t quite put my finger on. Worry? Regret? Whatever. I’m getting tired of his hot and then cold sexual games. I’m going to complete Liam’s list, with or without his help.

  He’s loosened his grip, and I dive under the surface again, only to be hauled back up by hands so big they can practically span my waist. He holds me away from him at arm’s length so I’m facing him this time, but his grip is just as immobilizing and his face just as implacable. I struggle to get away, but it’s pretty pointless, and his lips twitch with repressed amusement as he watches me flail around.

  “Let me go.” I splash him. He doesn’t even flinch, but his eyes narrow.

  “You’d better watch it,” he warns.

  “Or what? You’ll put me over your knee?”

  His eyes darken. “Don’t tempt me.”

  “Maybe I want to tempt you,” I say breathlessly.

  “Is that so?” The corners of his lips definitely turn up this time, and my pulse is inexplicably thrumming again. I’m suddenly uncomfortably aware of the fact that his grip on me is unyielding. I’m not going anywhere unless he decides I am. “What else do you want?” His voice is lower now, intimate, and what I want is for him to kiss me again. But twice now he’s touched me sensuously, arousing me in ways I’ve never dreamed possible, and twice he’s turned me away. And he didn’t even give me a second glance when I practically did a striptease in front of him. It doesn’t seem like the right time to tell him I want all the kinky things he described in such vivid detail yesterday, so I go with the other truth.

  “Your pecs are pretty impressive, but I want to do more than just sit on the boat admiring them. I’ve never swum in the Pacific before, or seen fish in every color of the rainbow. Look at this! It’s amazing.” I gesture toward an island not far from us, the dark cliff rising majestically out of the clear turquoise water. “Sailing the Philippines was on my brother’s bucket list for a reason. He wouldn’t have just spent all his time on the boat. He would have embraced every opportunity to do and see something new. He would have explored every inch and met the local people. He would have savored it and thrown himself into everything there is to experience here. I want to do the same. I have to. For Liam.”

  He stares at me for a long time, and then, with a quiet “okay,” he swims back to the boat with the powerful, practiced strokes of an Olympic swimmer. Or a Navy SEAL. Why do swimmers have such hot bodies? I sigh. His body is undeniably gorgeous, but it’s him that I’m so wildly attracted to; it’s the essence of him and his take-charge, confident demeanor that sets my pulse racing.

  But while I guess I have his approval to swim, he’s clearly not joining me. Fine. I certainly don’t need him to enjoy this paradise. I swim around lazily, enjoying the soul-cleansing cold of the salt water while keeping the boat in sight. I haven’t swum in the ocean since I was about ten and my parents took us to Florida, and I’ve never been out in the middle of the ocean like this. Back then, I wouldn’t go out very far, afraid of sharks after hearing my parents talking about a shark attack that had occurred earlier that summer. Of course, Liam had no such qualms. He dived fearlessly under the waves, bringing me handfuls of perfect sand dollars mixed with sand he’d scooped from the bottom.

  Oh my God. Sharks! How did I not think about that before I jumped in? But I can’t go back to the boat now, not after the speech I just gave Noah.

  I’m just starting to panic, certain a great white is swimming under me right now, circling, just waiting to attack, when I hear a splash. I scream. Damn Liam for getting me eaten by a shark! Noah surfaces next to me a minute later.

  “Oh my God. You scared me to death! I thought you were a shark.”

  He stares at me like I’m insane and then dives under the water. He doesn’t surface for at least two minutes, and I’m starting to worry when something bites my thigh. I scream again as he pops out of the water next to me, laughing. “Sharks aren’t what you should be worried about taking a bite out of you.” He holds up a snorkel mask and flippers. “Want to snorkel?”

  “Really?” I can’t hide my grin.

  His smile fades as his thumbs press against the corners of my mouth. “I could get used to making you smile.” He’s staring at my lips as if he’s going to kiss me, and my heart is racing at the thought. But instead he gently puts the face mask on and adjusts it for me.

  “Ready?”

  I nod.

  He’s brought a mask for himself, as well, and we spend the next few hours exploring the crystal blue waters. Before long, I’ve forgotten all about sharks. There are so many beautifully colored fish—the kind of fish I’ve only seen behind the impersonal but sophisticated glass walls at the aquarium. Here, swimming in the wild blue ocean, their colors are even more stunning. Noah is the perfect guide, staying close enough that I feel safe but letting me explore at my leisure, often pointing out something I might have missed otherwise—a big fat sea turtle, a clownfish darting in and out of an anemone, a stingray gliding silently just beneath us. At one point, he grabs my hand and pulls me down to the sandy bottom, and I watch as he uncovers one of the biggest clams I’ve ever seen. We grin at each other like idiots.

  “Had enough?” he finally asks as we both stop to rest on the swimming platform at the back of his boat.

  “I guess.” I’m that exhilarated tired you get from swimming in the sun, but I’m loathe to stop. It’s been fun being with him when he’s unguarded like this, and not trying so hard not to touch me.

  He’s looking at me with an indecipherable look in his eyes.

  “I have an idea. Come on.”

  “Where are we going?” I ask as I follow him onto the boat. He walks over to where a bright green kayak is tied to the deck and starts untying it. “Go put something on over your swimsuit. We’re going to the mainland.”

  Chapter Ni
ne

  McKenzie

  Fifteen minutes later, he’s dropped anchor on the sailboat and we’re in the two-person kayak, paddling toward the white sandy beach of an island straight out of a movie. Actually, he’s doing all the paddling. I’m too mesmerized by the island paradise that surrounds us to be of much help, but he doesn’t seem to mind. When we get close to the shore, he jumps out and effortlessly pulls the kayak onto the beach and then holds his hand out to steady me as I step out of the kayak. Masculine hands are my Achilles heel, and Noah’s are extraordinary. They are the hands of experience and discipline, the hands of pleasure, and the memory of them on my body has my stomach flip-flopping.

  “You hungry?” he asks, careful to let go of my hand as soon as my feet touch the sand. Obviously, he doesn’t feel the same.

  “Starving.” I know he’s talking about food, but he’s awakened a different kind of hunger in me.

  Leaving the kayak on the beach, we walk to an open-air restaurant and bar just up the beach, where Noah orders us cold bottles of beer and a selection of traditional Filipino dishes to share, explaining each one as he puts them on my plate. The adobo is delicious, but I can’t quite stomach the crunchy, chewy texture of an appetizer called sisig, especially after Noah tells me it’s made with pig’s cheeks, head, and liver.

  “I have to hand it to you,” he says, smiling at the face I make when I tentatively taste it. “You’ve got nerve.”

  “Not really,” I admit. “I always overthink everything. It tends to make me a little cautious.”

  “Paralysis by analysis?” He spears a piece of chicken with his fork.

  I laugh. “Something like that. I’ve always been kind of a wallflower.”

  “You’ve probably never had a chance to be otherwise,” he says gently. “You’ve been through some hard times. But I have to disagree with you. You have a bold streak that’s pretty damn impressive.”

  I’m oddly pleased at his praise. Even if he’s wrong.