The Rogue

by Jennifer Bernard

  As she told it, she drew laughs at first—they all loved the gay couple she’d added to the senator’s portrait—but then grew serious.

  “No one’s going to follow you here,” Gracie declared. “This place is easy to defend. You can hear every vehicle that comes up our road. We’re like a fortress that way.”

  Kai, frowning, tapped a Scrabble tile on the coffee table. “That’s true, but with all the construction workers around right now, it could be easy to miss a stranger up to no good.”

  “If anyone looks suspicious, you come and get me,” said Griffin firmly. “No matter when or where, middle of the night, anything.”

  “Should we give Renata and Loner Douglas the option of laying low?” Nicole asked. “They’re the only staff members around for the winter. They might not want to stick around for something like this.”

  “Definitely,” Serena began.

  But Kai cut her off. “Of course they’ll stick around. It’s cute that you newbies are worried, though.” He hugged an arm around his fiancee as the rest of the family chorused their agreement.

  Nicole’s bewildered gaze flew to meet Serena’s. “Okay … but how are you so sure?”

  Griffin stepped in to explain. “You have to be tough to spend even one winter out here, and they’ve both been here for decades. They’ve survived blizzards, an avalanche that cut us off for a week, a fire that nearly took out that ridge over there, the occasional flash flood, what else?” He looked at the rest of his family for help.

  “Bears,” said Kai. “Remember the time a bear chased Renata up a tree?”

  “It’s a good thing she had her dinner whistle on her.” Griffin grinned at the memory. As a kid, he’d been hungry almost constantly, and Renata’s whistle was one of his favorite sounds.

  “That bear ran so fast it nearly crashed into a four-wheeler,” Kai said. “What else?”

  “We had that hailstorm that killed all of our berry plants,” said Gracie. “Mom was so upset she didn’t get out of bed for a week.”

  “Right. Poor Loner. He’s the one in charge of all the plants around here,” Griffin explained to Serena. “He took that hailstorm very personally. I think I have video of him yelling at the sky and getting bonked in the head by a supersized hailstone.”

  “Basically, no senator or his trolls are going to scare away Renata or Loner,” Gracie said.

  “No staff member of mine, no family member of mine, is gonna let something like this slow them down.” Max banged his cane on the floor. “Let ‘em all know that if they need a shotgun, to come and see me. I have a few extras, plenty of ammo—”

  The alarm on Kai and Griffin’s faces was nearly comical. “Good God, Dad, take it easy,” said Griffin. “All we have to do is keep an eye out for strangers. No gunfire, for God’s sake. Remember that trigger-happy hunter who came up here?”

  “Triggered an avalanche, is what he did,” said Max.

  “Exactly. Let’s try to keep things cool. Serene, you might say,” he added, nodding to Serena.

  “Serene, with that red hair and that sass? Not the word I’d use,” grumbled Max.

  Her eyes brimming with amusement, Nicole met Serena’s gaze. I know just how you feel, her expression said.

  “Welcome to the Rockwells,” Griffin whispered in her ear, his lips brushing her skin. “Ready to run yet?”

  “Not even close,” she murmured back.

  21

  After the Scrabble game, Nicole helped Serena move into one of the guesthouses. It was one of the few that still had the original wallpaper, a pattern of blueberry sprigs over a cream background. With its chenille bedspread and enamel washbasin, the guesthouse had a charming old-school feel that she hoped wouldn’t be lost with all the renovations.

  Serena loved it even more than her little cabin. She gazed around the cozy space—living room, bedroom loft, and a bathroom, with a woodstove for heat. “This is completely adorable. I feel like a character in Heidi.”

  “Isn’t it great? I love these little guesthouses. I have many happy memories from another one just like this one.” Nicole smiled nostalgically.

  Serena could easily imagine what kind of memories she was reliving. Probably something not too different from the ones Serena kept dreaming about—those involving a hunky Rockwell man between her sheets.

  “Well, I’ll clear out and let you get settled in.” Nicole smiled warmly at her, her pretty heart-shaped face dimpling. “I’m so happy you’re here. Don’t let the man with the cane drive you off.”

  “No chance of that. I just hope they don’t regret being so welcoming. I’d feel horrible if something bad happened because of me.”

  Nicole waved that off. “If Griffin isn’t worried, I’m not. He’s a smart guy. They all talk about him like he’s a superhero, so I’m inclined to trust him.”

  A tap sounded on the door.

  “And that’s probably him now. Good night!” Nicole practically danced toward the door. “Oh, by the way, Renata and I are starting in on Thanksgiving preps tomorrow. It’s going to be a big deal because Isabelle will be back, and Lyle my investor friend is coming, and also my sister Birdie will be here. If you’re looking for something to do when you’re not painting Max, we’d love an extra hand.”

  “Of course. Anything to help, no matter what it is, just say the word.” On impulse, she reached for Nicole and gave her a quick hug. “You’re a sweetheart.”

  Nicole smiled back at her, and swung open the door to reveal Griffin. And then, as much as she liked Nicole, she couldn’t wait until the other woman was gone so she could throw herself at the handsome hunk of man standing in her new doorway.

  The second Nicole disappeared, Griffin moved toward her, and she practically ran toward him. They met a couple feet from the door and in no time, had their hands all over each other.

  She couldn’t get enough of his touch, his scent, the growl deep in his chest, the feel of his hard torso against her, his hands sliding under her sweater, molding the curves of her waist, spreading fire across her skin.

  She almost didn’t catch the knock on the door. Griffin didn’t hear it at all, and would have kept stripping her if she hadn’t pulled away and reached for the doorknob. Nicole took one look at her face, probably pink and flustered, and thrust a pile of freshly laundered towels at her.

  “Forgot these,” she murmured, eyes filled with laughter, then fled down the hallway.

  Serena closed the door, locked it, then looked at the towels.

  “Actually, I could use a shower.” Her voice sounded so breathy, she could have just run a fifty-yard dash.

  “Need your back scrubbed?” Griffin’s deep voice echoed the heat in his eyes.

  “At the very least. I’ve been a very dirty girl.” She peered at him from under her eyelashes, taunting, teasing. Taking that tiger by the tail.

  “Have you, really?” He advanced toward her, step by ruthless step. “Can’t have that. Not here at the lodge. Only good girls are allowed here. Or maybe I should say, good and dirty.”

  Thrills shot through her as he pounced on her. She shrieked as he manhandled her to the back wall, completely out of sight of anyone who might knock on the door again. He pinned her arms above her head and pressed his knee between her legs. Hot desire pulsed through her, sending a rush of liquid to her sex.

  “What are you going to do about it, big guy?” she breathed in his ear. “Are you going to let me get away with all that dirty, naughty stuff I’ve been doing? All that fucking I’ve been doing in my head?”

  “I’m gonna need to know more about that, young lady.” She was wearing a long lambswool skirt with a fairly elastic waistband—thank goodness. He slid his hand inside and found the top edge of her panties. He gripped the silky fabric so it tightened against her sex. Grinding against her. Stoking that fire hotter and higher. “Tell me more.”

  “You and me, totally naked, your hands on my breasts, my mouth right here…” She twisted her lower body so her hipbone brushed ac
ross the front of his jeans.

  “On my rock hard cock?” He said the words bluntly, almost brutally, arousal rampant in his voice.

  “Yes, your huge, hard cock.” She felt it lurch under her hip, scalding hot through his pants. “Maybe you should take it out,” she purred.

  “Maybe you should.” Challenge flared in his eyes and he released her arms from their pinned position. She slid down the wall until she was kneeling on the floor, his crotch at the level of her face. The lump in his jeans was so large it was almost comical; her mouth watered at the sight. He’d brought her to such intense orgasms the night before, one after the other, and he’d done it so unselfishly, only concerned for her pleasure.

  Now it was her turn, and she couldn’t wait. She unzipped his jeans, revealing the powerful curve of his thighs and the shadowy nest of hair—and the swollen shaft straining to get out. Gently, she lifted it free. Hot and smooth, ready to burst, his erection pushed against her hand as if it had a life of its own. Before she put her lips to it, she glanced up at Griffin. The sight of his face, flushed with lust, his eyes burning dark with need, made her press her knees together in a pulse of arousal.

  She touched her tongue to his tip and found a salty droplet already awaiting her. “What’s all this about?” she whispered, teasingly, her lips brushing against him as she spoke.

  “That’s about you being so smoking fucking hot that I can’t be around you without getting turned on.”

  “That might be a problem if you’re supposed to be working on this place.” She licked as she spoke, blew warm air against his beautiful penis. She wasn’t sure if it was objectively beautiful, or if she found it so because it was part of Griffin and had already given her so much bliss. But there it was.

  Luxuriating in the springy firmness of his flesh, its hidden scent and sheer aliveness, she drew him deeper into her mouth. The more she lavished him with attention, the harder and thicker he grew, and the more urgent the movements of his hips.

  “Fuck, Serena, that’s so good,” he moaned from over her head. With her artist’s eye, she could imagine what this looked like to him, her lips wrapped around his cock, barely containing him. She felt his hand in her hair, shaking slightly, a tender touch, like a ‘thank you’ in tactile form.

  She lost herself in this private world where only she and his erection existed, as if they were conversing, her mouth and his penis, in a language made of tongue lappings and thrusts and give-and-take. She knew when he was about to come, when his movements got more urgent and that hand in her hair clenched, sending prickles across her scalp.

  He pulled out of her mouth, and she looked up, her lips swollen and tingling. His eyes were absolutely wild as he drew her to her feet. With hands clumsier than she’d ever seen them, he bunched her skirt to her waist, so her entire lower half was exposed to him. Silk panties that she’d worn specifically in case this happened, with knee-length boots over tights.

  He yanked down her tights to just above her boots, then let his gaze roam over her, taking in the black silk panties, slightly damp by now. “Are you wet for me yet?” he murmured.

  She lifted an eyebrow at the question. “See for yourself.”

  “Always so saucy. I love it.” He slid his hand inside her panties and glided his thumb across her clit. “And so juicy. I love that too.” He increased his pressure, using the thick of his thumb to explore the little spot that cried out for attention. She leaned back against the wall, needing its support as he used those diabolical fingers to stroke her into a fever of need. One strong finger went inside, a knuckle did something outrageous, and within a few minutes she was panting and desperate to come. She fought against it—she wanted this to go on and on, and yet that orgasm called to her, right on the horizon.

  With her tights down her boots, she couldn’t move her legs much, couldn’t spread them open to give him more space. That gave her a sense of being pinned and immobile that for some reason really set her off. All she could do was let his hand take over. She couldn’t drive the pace, couldn’t control the result. The only thing left was trust and surrender. Trust that he’d bring her to that peak. And surrender to the knowing skill of his touch and his acute awareness of her every response.

  She came hard into his hand, so hard she lurched forward against his body. Solid and warm, he didn’t flinch against her weight. She rode his hand, gasping and shuddering, until every last spasm of bliss had been wrung from her. Then he held her against his chest while he dug in his pocket for a condom.

  Panting, her body still trembling from that wild orgasm, she waiting for the next step, when that thick shaft would bury itself deep inside her. It occurred to her, in a crazy moment of clarity, that the time before Griffin felt kind of fuzzy and distant. The rawness of their connection felt so immediate, so urgent, everything else had almost faded away.

  Something about that bothered her, but she didn’t have time to chase it down because Griffin had her against the wall again now. He was parting her folds, making room for his fisted cock, and once again pure sensation took over. Fullness. Thickness. Heat. Brain short-circuiting. Bodies moving against each other. Hard chest, rough breath, tender hands. Half-spoken words whispered in her ear.

  “God, Serena. So silky, so sweet, like honey. You’re incredible, baby. So incredible.”

  A new explosion triggered inside her as she shattered around the hard invading flesh. Her inner channel clutched at him in a spasm of pleasure, and that was it for him too—he pounded deep, erupted into a shout of triumph. Running her hands down his back, she felt his powerful ass muscles clench and flex. Oh God, that drove her wild too, and her orgasm kept on going.

  Finally it washed through them, leaving them spent and satisfied, clinging to each other so they didn’t fall over onto the floor. For now, all she could do was breathe and let her heart rate slowly return to normal.

  Finally, he straightened up, their bodies separating with a “pop” as he withdrew from her.

  “Stay right where you are,” he told her. He disappeared to take care of the condom. Her skirt fell back down in a soft flow of lambswool, while she closed her eyes, processing what had just taken place. Were things with Griffin always going to be this explosive? Where did this crazy chemistry come from? They were so different. What could an artist and a motocross racer possibly have in common?

  And yet, she’d never felt this sense of complete ease and connection with a man. She and Griffin had something special between them. Why try to deny it?

  Then that pesky thought came back to her, the one she’d pushed aside a few minutes ago.

  Her old life was fading away.

  San Francisco. Her studio. Her apartment with its constantly rotating cast of housemates. Gallery openings. Foggy nights. Chinese takeout.

  Independence.

  If she wasn’t Alison Riggs, up-and-coming artist and occasional police sketch volunteer, who was she?

  And no, “live-in sex toy” wasn’t really a good answer to that question.

  Griffin didn’t seem to notice her sudden thoughtfulness. He kneeled down to undo her boots, one by one, and remove her tights. “There, is that better? You looked a little uncomfortable.”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  Her slightly distant tone made him glance up. “You okay?”

  The concern on his handsome face made her worries melt away, at least for now. This couldn’t last—they were too different, and eventually she’d go home to San Francisco. But why did that matter? For now, in the midst of worry and uncertainty, Griffin had come along like a supernova and lit her up.

  Just enjoy it while it lasted. That was all she had to do. And it would be no hardship. Not when he was taking her into his arms and holding her with that tender strength that only Griffin had ever shown her.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Don’t worry about a thing. So does this place actually have a bed, or are we sleeping against the wall tonight?”

  “Did I hear a ‘we’ in that sentence?”
He took both of her hands in his and bent his head to brush his lips against hers. She drank in his kiss, the solid reassuring warmth of him. When he pulled away, she was out of breath, and her heart was racing.

  He guided her into the bedroom, which was so small it had room for a queen-size bed and little else.

  It was already made up, and someone had turned down the covers and plumped the pillows. On the narrow bedside table, a vase of pine sprigs and rose hips made for a lovely seasonal touch.

  “That’s Nicole’s doing,” Griffin said, gesturing at the vase.

  “That woman is a gem.”

  “She is. When she first came here, we were all afraid she was up to no good. We put Kai on the case and he took the job even more seriously than we’d expected.” He lifted her hand and brushed a kiss against her knuckles. “I don’t have to stay if you’d rather be alone tonight. Don’t feel obligated to cuddle with me.” He winked at her as he dropped her hand. “Even though I am a sucker for cuddling.”

  She surveyed the bed, so inviting with its old-fashioned bedspread and white ironwork headboard. It looked squeaky.

  “Do you think we’ll actually get any sleep if you stay here? Where do you usually sleep?”

  “I’ve been staying in my old room, which has a twin bed that’s about three inches too short for me. My feet hang over the end. I promise I’ll let you sleep and not pester you with my constant craving for your luscious body.” He grinned wickedly. “Or at least I’ll try.”

  “Which leads me to my other question.” She prodded the bed to make it move, and discovered that yes, it squeaked. “Can anyone hear us from here?”

  Next thing she knew, she was flat on her back on the bed and giggling madly as he nuzzled her neck, where she was most sensitive. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

  22

  Griffin filled in Renata and Loner Douglas about Serena’s situation. Loner shrugged it off, as they’d all expected. The only thing he really cared about was plants anyway—his nickname was Loner for a reason. He generally considered all humans interlopers, and promised to be on guard for anyone who didn’t belong.