Rogue Rider (Lords of Deliverance) (15 page)

Reseph rarely got angry. He might not remember who he was, but he knew that about himself. And he knew that the kind of fury he was feeling now was unusual. Something had hurt Jillian, had nearly killed her, and yet, she’d survived, coming back strong in a way he doubted many people did. And now she was afraid again.

Something was out there, hunting her neighbors and killing wild animals. He’d thought he was seeing things, but now he knew that a demon had been within sight of Jillian’s cabin. If it was the last thing he did, he’d take it out and mount its head on a pole to warn others.
Don’t fuck with my woman
.

His woman? And shit, where had he gotten the idea that it would be a good idea to mount a demon head on a pole? Whatever. He’d do it if it would keep Jillian safe. As for her being his woman, well, it would probably be best to get his memory back before he went all,
you’re mine
.

Especially since the nagging feeling that he wasn’t a Boy Scout was growing stronger with every passing hour. He had too many weird thoughts, knew too many fucked-up things.

Maybe he’d been a demon hunter, like the people investigating the Bjornsen and Wilson killings. That might not be so bad. Might be kind of cool, actually. He’d hunt down the demon lurking here in the mountains, and then he’d track the ones who had hurt Jillian at the airport and make them feel everything they had done to her. Right after that, the ex-fiancé asshole would have to go.

Another burst of rage made his blood sizzle. Nothing would hurt her again. Nothing.

“Reseph?”

He blinked, realized he’d been lost in his own mind like some kind of head case. “Yeah?”

“You were growling.” She was looking at him like she thought he was some kind of head case, too.

“Shit.” He brought one of her hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the silky skin. “Sorry. I just feel so damned helpless. I want to kill the thing that attacked you, and I want to protect you from everything else, but what if…” He trailed off, not wanting to voice his darkest fears.

“What if… what?” She hooked one finger under his chin and forced his gaze to hers. “Reseph? Don’t shut down on me. I just shared with you. Your turn.”

Yeah, it wasn’t fair for him to not spill his guts after she just had, but there was a big difference here. What she’d told him had made him feel even more for her, had plucked at every tender, protective gene he had. But what he held inside could only do the opposite to her.

“What if it’s me I have to protect you from?”

“I’m not afraid of you, Reseph.” Her level gaze was unwavering.

“But you don’t know who I am.”

“I know you’re cocky and funny. You’re protective and sweet. You’re not afraid of hard work. You’re strong, but gentle. You can’t cook worth a shit.”

“I think I’m offended.”

“But you
really
can’t cook,” she grumbled.

“I was talking about the ‘sweet’ part.”

Her full lips quirked in an impish smile. “Sweet.”

This wasn’t going well, not when she wasn’t taking his concerns seriously. “Jillian, maybe that’s who I am now. But what if we find out I’m a sick bastard. What if—”

“Stop.” When he would have argued, she tugged him up onto the bed with her so they were both lying across the mattress. Her dark hair framed her face in messy wisps, softening the stubborn light in her eyes. “Look, I’m not going to lie and say I’m not worried about who you were before. I’ve dated a lot of guys who ended up being total dicks, and Jason was the icing on the cake. It’s hard for me to trust a guy not to turn on me.”

“Who were the guys?”

“What?” She propped herself up on one elbow so she could look down at him. “You want to know about the morons I dated?”

Yep. Including addresses. “What did they do to you?” God, this possessive, murderous side of him could not be good.

“Let’s see… well, one cheated on me, one had a gambling problem, one was an accountant who failed to tell me that he was a cokehead.” She sighed. “And I already told you about Jason.”

“I think,” he growled, “that I must have been an assassin before I lost my memory, because I really want to hunt down those guys and put a crossbow bolt between their eyes.” It didn’t even bother him that he’d do it and not feel an ounce of remorse. She’d taken so many blows in her life, and yet, she was still standing. She was so strong, and his admiration for her swelled.

“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or extremely freaked out.”

“Go with flattered.” He pushed himself up on one arm so he could face her. So he could feel her heat mingle with his. “If you aren’t afraid of me, then why did you leave me in town?”

He hated the shame that settled into her expression, the little frown he wanted to kiss until she smiled again. “Because I don’t trust myself.”

“You don’t trust yourself to what?” He reached out and trailed a finger along her jaw. “To not let me strip you naked and lick every inch of your body?”

A delicate smudge of pink spread across her cheekbone. “As… interesting… as that sounds, no. I don’t trust my judgment, and I don’t trust myself to not get attached.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say, “Then don’t,” because it seemed like the obvious solution, but then he’d be a hypocrite, because he was definitely developing feelings for her that he wasn’t sure how to handle. It was almost as if now should be the time he started running for the hills. Was that what he’d done before? Why? He loved how he felt when he was with Jillian, so why wouldn’t he have wanted that before now?

So many questions, and the only thing he knew was that he was growing close to Jillian, and he wasn’t going
to fight it. She, obviously, was. And frankly, the more he thought about it, the angrier he got, even if he understood her reluctance. He had no past, and because of that, a questionable future. So he understood it, but he didn’t like it.

Stung by her rejection, he leaned forward, forcing her back. “Then don’t get attached. Because let’s face it. I’ve wanted to fuck you since the moment I woke in your bed, surrounded by your scent.” Her eyes flared with surprise, and he pressed the issue, getting right in her face. “And I know damned good and well you would have let me take you right there in the sheriff’s station if we’d been alone. So let’s screw around, no emotional commitment. That way, we’ll both have protected our delicate little hearts if we find out I was some kind of asshole scumbag in the past.”

Huh. Guess they didn’t need to wait to find out if he was an asshole. He’d just taken that on-ramp.

Jillian’s lips parted in shock before she pressed them together and her eyes hardened with a cold inner resolve. “Fine. You’re right.” She palmed his chest. “Wanna have sex?” She dragged her hand down his abs to his waistband, and he nearly stopped breathing, but his cock jumped, all,
hell, yeah
.

Then he stunned the hell out of himself when he grabbed her hand and stopped her from unbuttoning his jeans. “Are you sure?”

What the fuck. Why wasn’t he taking what she was offering, no questions asked? This was so… foreign. Like he’d never in his life questioned or turned down sex.

“After all your chasing,
now
you’re backing off?” She nipped his fingers hard enough to make him let go and dropped her hand back down on his fly. “Yes, I’m sure.
I used to like sex. I miss it. Commitment-free sex, you say? Sure. Why not? My delicate little heart will be just fine.” Their eyes met, hers glinting with determination that sucked the breath right out of his lungs. “So are you gonna follow through on your offer, or do I have to take a cold shower?”

Her palm cupped him through his jeans, massaging and squeezing, and his decision was made. Reaching up, he tangled his fingers through her hair and brought her lips to his. Kissing her, he pulled her down on top of him, loving the weight of her on his body. What he didn’t love was how this was going down. Maybe in the past, meaningless sex would have been fine. But with Jillian he wanted more. Stupid of him, no doubt, but clearly, he wasn’t a male who operated on logic. He was all about instinct and impulse, and right now, both were leading him to Jillian.

Jillian couldn’t believe she was doing this. Commitment-free sex? She’d never tried that, had always gone into relationships thinking they’d lead somewhere. Yes, she’d been adventurous and bold in bed… but only after she’d given herself permission to love the man she was with.

And hadn’t
that
worked out? Not so much.

Maybe Reseph was right. Obviously, she’d been an idiot before, so hey, why not try something new. Sex without emotional attachment. She could do it. She could. She
had
to.

He was so warm beneath her, the hard planes of his body molding perfectly to hers. She kissed him as she ran her hands through his hair, reveling in the silky texture. He had the kind of hair women would kill for.

Stroking her back, he shifted so his thigh came up between hers and his arousal prodded her hip. He skimmed his hands over her ribs, down her spine, to the curve of her rear, and pressed her against him as he rolled his pelvis. The slow undulation practically undid her right there.

Pulling back, she kissed a trail along the sharp angle of his jaw, stopping now and then to scrape her teeth over his smooth skin. Each time she did that, he moaned, and each time he moaned, she felt a pleasant tug in her pelvis. She loved the sounds he made, from the small hitches in his breath, to the soft rumbles in his chest.

His hands slipped under her sweatshirt, and in single second, he’d unclasped her bra.

“I need to see you,” he said, his voice husky and low. “Let me look at you.”

She’d never been self-conscious… until the attack. She hesitated, nervous butterflies flitting around in her gut. For a brief moment she considered leaping off the bed and running… to where? The middle of nowhere? She was already living there. She was already as far from the place where she’d been attacked as she could get.

She wouldn’t let herself be cornered again. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she pushed herself up onto her knees and let him strip her. His hungry gaze fell immediately to her belly and the ugly white marks. He reached out and drew one finger over the longest scar, the one that went from between her breasts to her hip bone.

“Is this uncomfortable for you?”

“Letting you see them?” When he nodded, she bit her lip. “They’re hideous.”

His gaze snapped up to hers. “Wrong.” Gripping her waist, he lifted her easily and flipped them so he was on
top of her and he was kissing her belly. “You’re a warrior, Jillian. Your scars are as beautiful as you are.”

Flustered, she had no idea what to say… not that she could speak if she wanted to. His tongue darted out to lick the long scar, starting where it disappeared under her waistband and all the way up. When he reached the ragged crest, he kissed her there, his lips lingering, warm, perfect.

His hands came up to cup her breasts as he dragged his mouth to one nipple, his breath a wave of sensation on her skin. She arched into him, seeking more, which he gave her when he sucked at her breast, gently rolling the swollen nipple between his lips.

“More,” she gasped, reaching low to push his jeans off.

He chuckled and scrambled off the bed, and in two seconds flat, he had her stripped of her pants, though he left her in her panties. Then, in slow, torturous motion, he peeled open his fly, releasing his erection. It sprang free, a long, thick column of dusky brown skin and dark, pulsing veins that twined from the thick base to the smooth plum head.

She’d had a handful of sexual partners, but never had she been so entranced by the sight of a fully aroused male, and she’d definitely not felt the searing need that was making her shake with anticipation.

Reseph seemed to know, and he leveled a lopsided grin at her as he pushed down his jeans and stepped out of them. Completely naked, he was a luscious work of art, a lean, toned thing of beauty she could worship all day—and night—long.

Never looking away from him, she popped open the bedside table drawer and fumbled around for the box of condoms Stacey had bought her as a joke—and a hint.
When she tossed them onto the tabletop, Reseph barely gave them a glance.

Leaning forward, he gripped her ankles, using his thumbs to rub light circles on the sensitive flesh just under the inner ankle bone. His lips came down on her thigh, and she wondered where he was going with this. Not that she’d stop him from doing whatever he wanted, but she was rapidly learning that with him, there was very little chance of keeping one move ahead of him.

He nuzzled her thigh, working his way up her leg with his mouth and up her calves with his hands. The sensual massage made her squirm with pleasure, and the things he did with his mouth, even just on her freaking thigh, made her moan.

She thrust her hands through his hair as he kissed and licked, massaged and stroked. And when she felt the lightest brush against the cotton material covering her center, she let out an appreciative hum of approval.

“You like this,” he murmured, his lips tickling the crease between her leg and her sex. “You like where I’m headed, don’t you?”