Nauti Boy

“It’s about time you two found your way home.” Ray and Maria stepped into the entryway.

Kelly breathed in deeply before turning to them, pasting a smile on her face as she met their concerned gazes.

“Rowdy has a habit of poking along on the way back from the docks.” She kept her voice flat and even. “You know how he is.”

They weren’t convinced.

“She’s a lousy liar, isn’t she?” Rowdy drawled, his deep baritone still sending shivers up her spine despite her anger.

She glanced over at him. His thumbs were hooked in the pockets of his jeans, long legs stiff and straight as he smiled in open amusement back at their parents. She drew in a deep, hard breath.

“I’m going up to bed.” She smiled stiffly. “Rowdy can be a butt by himself. I don’t feel like dealing with it.”

She raced up the stairs, fearing Rowdy would follow her, grateful he didn’t. She slammed the door to her bedroom, twisting the lock on the handle before she stomped to her window and jerked the heavy curtains closed.

“Beg me for it,” he panted at her ear, holding her down. “You’re my good girl, Kelly. You’re mine, it’s okay to let me in. Let me in…”

She shook her head at the intrusive memory. She had managed to hold back the fear while she was with Rowdy, but now that she was alone, it was sneaking in, attacking her. The feeling of being watched was overwhelming, her skin crawling as her stomach churned with panic.

She had, as Rowdy had argued, essentially been the one who got away. She had escaped the full rape, suffering only some cuts made to weaken her, and a terror that still brought her awake with a cry on her lips.

She didn’t wear the clothes she used to because the marks were still there. Shorts and tank tops might reveal the nearly imperceptible white scars that still marred her arms, shoulders, and legs. Nakedness would reveal the ones on her buttocks. Deeper slices had been made there as he held her down, cutting her panties from her.

Her mother swore they weren’t noticeable. But to Kelly, they were.

She still remembered the feel of that knife biting into her, razor-sharp, the skin parting as cold pain streaked through her nervous system, and the feel of hot blood as it began to pour from the wounds. The doctor had assured her that within a few years they would be gone entirely. She wondered if the memories would fade as well.

She paced through the dark room to the wide recliner that sat on the far wall, beneath the standing lamp she used to read by. Collapsing into it, she propped her elbows on her knees and dropped her head in her hands. She didn’t need Rowdy’s arguments earlier to understand that she wasn’t out of danger. She knew she wasn’t, just as she knew that it was only a matter of time before her attacker made his next move.

She felt stalked. There was no proof, nothing but her own suspicions and her own fears. Shaking her head, she moved to her dresser. She pulled free one of the long sleeveless gowns she slept in and headed for the shower. A cold shower maybe, she thought as she adjusted the water. If she didn’t get the memory of his kiss, his teasing out of her head, she would go crazy.

But even the cool water did nothing to still the idea he had planted in her head earlier. She was furious that Rowdy would play games to draw the stalker out, but she was smart enough to realize she wasn’t safe.

She dried her hair, staring at the thin white scars on her shoulders and upper arms. There were four on one, three on the other. They showed clearly in the bright light of the bathroom, the dark blue gown emphasizing the marks.

At times she swore she could feel the ones on her buttocks.

She shook her head as she turned from the mirror, moving to the bedroom, her hand reaching out to flip off the light. She paused at the switch, her eyes narrowing on the man in her bedroom.

Rowdy had obviously showered as well. Dressed in gray sweatpants, he was propped against her pillows, waiting on her, a scowl creasing his handsome face.

“That expression freezes on your face and you’ll be terrifying little kids on the streets,” she informed him as she flipped off the light and walked into the bedroom.

“I’m not leaving you alone at night, Kelly—”

“Windows were locked and so was the door,” she informed him as she stood by the side of the bed, her arms crossed over her breasts.

“And I got in the door anyway.”

She inhaled slowly, her gaze sliding to the shadowed outline of the door as Rowdy reached over and clicked on the dim lamp on the small table beside him.

The lock was in the standing position, still locked.

“How did you do that?” She turned back to him, pretending to ignore the fact that he was mouthwateringly sexy as he lay on the flowered comforter of her bed.

“It’s a piece of cake,” he grunted. “The window locks aren’t a lot harder to release. Until I can get the contractor out here to add to the security, you’re stuck with me.”

His expression was determined, stubborn. It was easy to tell when Rowdy had made up his mind. His expression went completely bland and his sea green eyes turned as cool as the arctic.

“Fine.” She shrugged. “You sleep here and I’ll sleep in your bed. No biggie.” She moved for the door.

“Open that door, Kelly, and your mom and my dad are going to get dragged into this little disagreement we’re having. Is that really what you want?”

Damn.

She stopped halfway to the door before turning back to him.

“Whose side would they take?” She opened her eyes wide, with mocking innocence. “Now I wonder, what will they think about the little proposal you put to me earlier?”

He tilted his head, his eyes glittering with lust, with amused hunger.

“Dad would probably kick my ass out of the house,” he growled good-naturedly. “Is that what you really want?”

She turned away from him, restraining the urge to kick his butt herself. He was right. Ray would likely skin his hide if he ever learned of his son’s proposal.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t expected it. She had. She had looked forward to it. How was that for some sick shit? She had actually looked forward to the day Rowdy would return and make good on the promise his kiss had made years ago.

And she had known if he did, the possibility of just such a proposal would come. She had been ready for it. Prepared for it. What she hadn’t expected was the cold-blooded intention he had of using it to catch her would-be rapist. As though the act no longer had anything to do with the two of them. As though the desire, the need, and the hunger were a means to an end and nothing more. It was without feeling, without emotion. And God help her, whenever she was around Rowdy, she felt nothing but emotion. Swirls of it. Lava-hot, lightning forks of sensation that rippled over her nerve endings, rendering even the air itself a caress against her sensitive flesh.

And emotions? Oh, she didn’t even want to go there. Except she was already there. Arousal, uncertainty, fear of the unknown, and a fear of losing the dream in the face of reality.

He was asking her to choose. She had wanted to be seduced.

She turned back to him, drawing in a slow, deep breath, her head lifting as she stared at the confident, cool countenance he presented to her.

“Get out of my bedroom.” She crossed her arms over her breasts, pressing her lips together as she glared at him. “I’m not one of the Nauti Boys’ playthings. And I’m not in the mood for games. Not yours or anyone else’s.”

She watched the surprise gleam in his eyes for just a second. For the first time in all the years she had known him, she had never surprised him, until now.

With a ripple of muscle, he moved from the bed, his gaze never leaving hers as he rose, coming to his feet and walking around the bed.

He was aroused. The thick length of his erection tented his sweatpants, drew her eyes and made her mouth water. She had fantasized about that erection. About all the things a woman could do with such a prime piece of flesh.

She let her eyes linger on the proof of that arousal before lifting them to his face again. He was close. So close she could smell the clean, male scent of him. Dial soap and heated male arousal.

She stood still as he stalked around her, the movements deliberate, predatory. Suddenly he wasn’t the laid-back, patiently amused Rowdy she had always known. She could feel the purpose, the male intent that poured from him.

Her breath caught as he paused behind her, his hand reaching up to allow his fingers to smooth her hair back over her shoulder, to bare the shell of her ear.

“You’re mine.” She jumped at his whispered response. “And, baby, I do like to play.” His hands ran down her arms, creating a friction of heat as she felt his lips at her shoulders. “I guess that makes you my playmate, if not my plaything.”

Her eyes widened a second before she jerked out of his hold, turning back to him furiously.

“I don’t think so.” She gave him a tight, angry smile.

Stupid male confidence, she fumed.

He tilted his head, the beginnings of a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

“I could convince you.”

No doubt.

She snorted as though it weren’t possible. Unfortunately, he probably could convince her, but at what cost to her soul?

“Go get in your own bed, Rowdy. Don’t make me cause a scene. Ray wouldn’t like it.” She walked to hers, flipping back the blankets and moving into the comfort of the mattress, ignoring him as though he didn’t matter. “Good night.”

He chuckled. “You’ve changed,” he murmured as he paced to the other side of the bed, staring down at her, aroused, determined.

“I haven’t changed at all, Rowdy.” She pulled the blankets to her waist as she sat propped against the pillows. “Perhaps you just never really knew me.” She raised her brows in emphasis. “That’s always a possibility.”

“You enjoyed waking up with me,” he accused. “You don’t want to throw me out.”

That one was a no-brainer. No, she didn’t want to throw him out. She wanted to curl against him and sleep as fearlessly as she had the night before and awaken as warm and protected as she had that morning.

She lifted her chin, refusing to answer him, fighting to hold his knowing stare as he watched her from beneath the veil of his thick, black lashes.

“Go play with someone else.” She might have to kill him if he tried. “I’m not interested in the games.”

“And you think this is a game?” He scowled down at her, his hands bracing on his powerful hips as his eyes began to simmer with irritation.

“I think it is for you,” she answered somberly. “And I’m not a game. Don’t play games with me, Rowdy. Not now, not ever.”

TEN

Rowdy leaned forward, muscular arms propping him up on the mattress as he stared into her eyes. Kelly fought the need to glance away from him, to deny the hold he had on her. There was no turning away from him. He mesmerized her, made her hungry, made her need.

“I’m not scared of you, Rowdy,” she tried to smirk back at him. “Don’t try to intimidate me.”

“If you don’t like the games, then don’t play them.” His voice was dangerously, warningly soft. “You want something from me, then tell me what you want.”

Her teeth clenched in anger.

“Fine,” she snapped. “I want you out of my bedroom and out of my face. Go away.” She made a shooing motion with her hand then stared at him in shock as his hand whipped out, catching her wrist.

Her heart jumped to her throat as he brought her fingers to his mouth, rubbed them against the velvet roughness of his lips before opening them and licking over the pads with a subtle flick of his tongue.

She was helpless. Struck dumb by the sheer sensuality of watching him caress nothing but her fingertips. Feeling the warmth of his lips, the flickering heat of his tongue, the sensual nip of his teeth. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">