Last Chance Rebel (10 page)

But, then, added to that fact, she had no idea how she had gone from yelling at him to tasting him. Yet she was. And, the realization that it was completely insane didn't find her scrambling back to safety.

The first touch of his lips was like a taste of water after years in the desert. She hadn't realized how thirsty she was. And, no matter that it was a terrible idea, the only thing was the thirst. It was all that mattered. Satisfying it, quenching it. A few moments ago, she hadn't known that it existed. Now, it was the only thing inside her. Bigger—at least in this moment—than her anger. Bigger than her scars. Bigger than who he was.

His grip on her arms was punishing, bruising as he held her steady, letting her continue her wanton attack of his mouth with hers. He was just standing there, as impassive as ever, as if he was merely allowing this kiss, and not participating in it.

That made her even angrier. It shouldn't. It should be the jolt of sanity that she needed, but she wasn't feeling particularly sane.

She wrenched her arms free, wrapping them around his neck and leaning forward, her breasts pressing against the hard wall of his chest as she tilted her head, all the better to breach his defenses.

He was like iron. Cold, impenetrable. But she was hot enough to melt him, she was sure of that. She was made entirely of rage, and need, a red, molten thing inside of her that couldn't be contained anymore. It was too big for her, and too destructive.

So, he was going to have to have some of it. He was going to have to carry some of it inside of him, so he could be burned just as she was. Why should she be the only one?

She parted her lips, tracing the seam of his mouth with her tongue. And that did it. On a growl, he wrapped his arms around her, the shock of being surrounded by him, overtaken by him, momentarily immobilizing her.

It was all he needed to assume control. And assume it he did. He slid one hand up her back, pressing his palm between her shoulder blades, the hold possessive and intense. A shockwave rolled over her as she tried to reconcile the years spent with so little touch, broken by this force of contact that rivaled anything she had ever felt before in her life.

His stubble was rough, his cheek scraping against hers as he took the lead, changing the angle yet again, forcing her lips apart even further, his tongue sliding against hers in a sensual echo of the verbal sparring they had just been engaged in.

He was so hot, so big and hard, the extreme of absolutely everything. The epitome of masculinity, making her feel tiny and delicate and a whole host of things that she would normally hate to feel. Somehow, he made it all seem okay. He made it seem right.

Somehow, he made her savor that feeling. Being small, being held. Being helpless to do anything but submit to the power of his touch, the absolute and complete dominance of his kiss.

He pulled back from her for a moment, then returned, cupping her face, holding her head steady as he tasted her deeper, taking the kiss to a place that was so hard, so hot, she thought it might destroy her completely.

Her knees went weak, and she started shaking, a hollow sensation beginning to expand deep and low in her stomach. She ached. All the way down. And she needed... She just needed.

She arched against him, and he stood firm, as unyielding as granite. But she liked that. Very few people stood firm against her. For fear of breaking her, or for fear that she might break them. But he did. He stayed hard, and he gave her something to launch herself at, and she had no idea how much she needed that until now. Had had no idea just how much she needed to go up against the side of a mountain.

Gage West was most definitely her Everest. And right now, she wanted to climb him all the way to the summit.

He growled, his teeth scraping against her bottom lip before he went back again, and again, tasting her deeper and deeper with each pass of his mouth over hers. And she was lost in it. Completely consumed. And why not? She had been lost in the fog that he'd caused for so many years. Why shouldn't she get lost in this one?

Suddenly, he pulled back, pushing her away as he did, releasing his hold on her completely. He stood there, his chest rising and falling sharply, his eyes hard, his dark brows locked together. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Don't you mean what the hell were we doing?” She would be damned if she accepted his anger for this.

“What the hell do you want?” he continued, as though she hadn't spoken.

“I thought—” she cleared her throat “—well, I thought that maybe you could at least treat me like a woman. Since nobody else does. And it's your fault.”

“Is that what you want? You want to trade for sex?”

His words were like a slap. They were also her fault. Because she was the one who had led the conversation, hell, the entire interaction, down this road.

“Don't,” she said.

“You said I owe you. I owe you sex?”

Anger made her mean. “Sure. Why not? Or is that a step too far for you? You'll give me a building, but you're not going to pity fuck the girl you scarred for life?”

“No,” he said.

She shouldn't be sad he was turning her down, because she wouldn't take him up on it anyway. She didn't want his pity. And she didn't want to sleep with him. She hated him. She had never been with a man before, and he was hardly going to be the first one. That would be... It didn't make any sense. Still, she didn't want him to turn her down. But it was another blow to her already fragile self-esteem.

“I guess your sense of justice really only extends so far.”

“You don't even want to take a building for me. I'm not going to pay you in sex. Mostly because that isn't really what you want.”

“Oh, so now you're an expert on what I want?” She moved past him, dodging him neatly when he attempted to reach out and grab her. “Don't.”

“Is this the part where you tell me you're not going to speak to me anymore? And you're going to refuse to have anything to do with me?”

“No,” she said, the word vibrating inside of her, the denial filled with rage and conviction. “I care about Main Street, and from where I'm sitting you have way too much power. I want to make sure that whatever happens is something that helps shape the town that I love. So, I'm going to take this opportunity. But it doesn't mean I don't hate you.” That last part was a little bit childish, and she wished that she had been able to play it a little bit cooler. Wished that she weren't quite so transparent.

Wished that she weren't made entirely of wounded female ego, busted up pride and frustrated lust.

Because no matter that it was a terrible idea, no matter that she was infuriated at him, she was still trembling with desire for him. She had never felt like this before. She had never felt so desperate, so needy, after a kiss. Or, ever, really.

She was so angry at him. Angry, because he was the one to bring all of these feelings up, and it really did only seem fair that he be the one to satisfy them. Angry because she should never have been attracted to him in the first place. Angry more at herself than at him, which made her even angrier.

She continued on out of his house, stopping as soon as she got outside the front door, leaning up against it, trying to stop her hands from shaking. She should go home. She should go home with her tail between her legs and hide. Forget this ever happened. Forget that she had ever wanted any of these things, most especially with him.

But that's what you always do. You hide when it gets hard.

He was right. That was the part that was so damned irritating. He was right about her. About the way she pushed people away, about the tools she used to do it.

But she didn't have to. She was going to go home, but only for a few minutes. Then she was going to get dressed in something other than this. And she was going to finish what they had started upstairs. Not with him. Never with him. But she was going to stop allowing Gage West to have so much control of her life.

CHAPTER NINE

I
T
HAD
ONLY
taken a moment's hesitation for Rebecca to leave the house wearing a short dress and a pair of knee-high leather boots. Her hair was loose and more than a little bit disheveled from spending the day partly caught up in a twist.

She didn't often bother with makeup, but she had done her best to enhance her eyes and her lips, not bothering with the rest since, unless she was really going to use foundation like spackle, she always felt like it tended to exacerbate the appearance of her scars rather than obscure them.

It had taken another moment's hesitation once she had gotten to Ace's for her to get out of the car. And then, another moment's hesitation still to go from the parking lot to inside.

Finally, she pulled the door open and walked inside, immediately enveloped by the warmth and the noise of the atmosphere. She glanced behind the counter, relieved to see that Ace wasn't in residence. This would all be much easier without him being misguidedly paternal, or whatever his deal was.

She was also thankful to see that her friends weren't here. Because they would likely stage an intervention, which, she maybe needed. But, she had managed to cling to her arousal and her rage the entire time she had gotten ready to go out. She'd had a whole hour to simmer down, and she hadn't done it yet, so she doubted she was going to until she completed her mission.

It was necessary. Actually, she was just angry it had taken Gage's appearance in town to push her to this point. It was easy for her to fling accusations at him, to say that her life was ticking along just fine and he had come and disrupted it. But, she had to admit—at least to herself—that even when he wasn't here, he had control over what she did. Because she allowed the scars to control what she did.

She was over it. And she wasn't going to wait for someone special, or some other crap. She wasn't in the market for a relationship. She never had been. Which was a huge part of why she'd never slept with a guy. Because, even though she knew that it wasn't like it had to mean anything or be special, it had always kind of seemed like it should. But, she had also never really wanted anything special. Depending on another human being was her worst nightmare. Needing someone—when there was no guarantee at all that they would stay—just wasn't something she'd ever wanted. That put relationships low on her list of priorities.

But sex had suddenly been bumped higher on the list. She wasn't going to be a virgin for the rest of her life—that meant that she was going to have to rip off the Band-Aid at some point. So, virginity Band-Aid was going. Now.

Though, based on things she had heard over the years, unlike taking a Band-Aid off, she doubted that doing it quickly would make it hurt less.

She gritted her teeth, scanning the bar. She should have stopped for condoms. She was making assumptions that the guy that she decided on would have them. Actually, she probably didn't want to choose a guy that didn't have them, because that would imply a lack of sex preparedness. If she were looking for a relationship, she might want the kind of guy who didn't carry protection around. But she wasn't looking for a relationship, she was looking for a guy who knew what he was doing.

A guy that made her feel even a fraction of what Gage had made her feel. A guy who could, at least, keep the fire going, even if he hadn't started it himself.

She looked across the room, her heart doing a strange dip and twist when she spotted Finn Donnelly. He was hot, there was no doubt about that. Tall, broad and well muscled from days spent working on his family ranch.

Not the most approachable guy, but sexy. So that was a bonus.

She chewed her bottom lip. He also knew her, and was very good friends with Lane. Lane insisted that there was nothing between them, nothing romantic at all. Finn was just the guy who changed her lightbulbs so that she didn't have to get up on a ladder, the guy who fixed up her place if there were any issues.

In fact, when pressed, Lane always looked mortally offended by the assertion that she might have latent Finn feelings.

Rebecca bit her lip, crossing the room to where Finn was standing. “Hi,” she said.

He looked up from his beer, a dark brow raised, the left side of his lips quirked upward. “Hi, Rebecca. Are you here with Lane?”

“No,” she said.

“Oh,” he said. He lifted his beer, taking a sip of it, and Rebecca wondered if she had miscalculated. She wondered if maybe he had some feelings for Lane, regardless of what Lane said about him.

She cleared her throat, bouncing uncomfortably on the balls of her feet, not knowing what to say next. Finn was hot, but she didn't exactly want to touch him or anything. And she didn't know if that was because of the specter of her friend looming over them, or the potential consequences because of his close relationship to her friend, or what. Maybe it was just chemistry, and the cruelty thereof.

Because Finn was not the kind of guy to do serious relationships, so he would be perfect for her purposes, if not for all the other entanglements. Small-town ridiculousness.

“You can have a seat if you want,” he said, gesturing to the empty chair across from him.

“No,” she said. “I mean, are you waiting for someone?”

Something shifted in his expression, his lip quirking at a slightly different angle, the light in his whiskey-colored eyes flickering. “No.”

The air stretched between them, and she was suddenly fighting to catch her breath. She sensed that this was her moment. To either put her cards on the table or walk away. It was a weird thing, the fact that he seemed to understand what she was thinking, and that he hadn't run the other direction.

Maybe, if she wanted to, she could have Finn Donnelly.

There was nothing to be pitied about that. He looked... Strong, and capable. And he had very big hands. That was supposed to be a good thing. She was pretty sure. Really, regardless of what it was indicative of, his hands were nice.

She sat down. Still, she felt anything but decisive. “Let me buy you a drink,” he said.

She crawled her hands into fists, resting them on the tabletop. “Okay. That would be great.”

He stood up, crossing the space and moving over to the bar. She pressed her hand against her forehead, wondering exactly what she was doing. Well, she knew what she was doing. She was hoping to pick up a guy. And she had of course ended up sitting with the guy that she knew. Though, they didn't know each other that well.

A bottle of beer appeared on the table in front of her and she looked up, her eyes clashing with Finn's. “Thank you,” she said.

He lifted a shoulder. “Sure.” He sat down across from her, his gaze assessing.

Every other time she had ever put herself in a position similar to this with a guy, she had carefully set it up to fail. To trap him into saying something that would make it so it was easy to send him packing. She usually went out of her way to find something wrong with him. Something wrong with what he said, what he did.

But...

But, in theory she wanted this to succeed. To go to its final conclusion. Oh Lord. Did she actually want to have sex with Finn? An image of Gage superimposed itself over the picture she was trying to create of herself kissing Finn.

“How about we dance?” She was surprised by that offer, in part because Finn didn't exactly seem like the kind of guy who danced, but maybe that was just because she had never seen him pick a woman up.

Was he picking her up? Was this actually happening?

She swallowed hard. “Okay.”

He reached out, taking hold of her hand, and she followed his lead, allowing him to take her to the middle of the uncluttered area of the bar that acted as a dance floor. The jukebox was playing midtempo country music, and Finn pulled her up against his hard body. For the second time that night, she found herself in a man's arms. After going so long without being touched, it was especially strange.

She let out a slow, shaking breath, resting her forehead against his shoulder as he took hold of her hand and held it up, bracing it against his chest.

“We don't know each other that well,” he said, his voice low in her ear. “Strange, since we're around each other enough.”

“We don't have to talk,” she said.

She raised her head, examining his expression. He looked surprised, but amused. “Suit yourself.”

“Sorry. I didn't mean to be horrible. I just... You don't have to play like you're interested in what I have to say suddenly just because...you know.”

He nodded slowly. “I appreciate the honesty. Are you okay, though? Because from what I know of you, this isn't exactly typical behavior.”

She forced a smile. “What do you care if you get laid?”

To his credit, he didn't look shocked. “I guess I don't.”

“As long as this doesn't...as long as it doesn't cause any problems with Lane.”

His jaw tensed, almost imperceptibly. But she was so close she could see the slight shift, and he was holding her against his body, so she could feel the tension rise inside of him. “It wouldn't. It won't.”

“Good.”

So weird. So strange to have this conversation when they hadn't even kissed. Suddenly, he moved his hand on her back, the hold becoming more all-encompassing, and she could sense that he was about to remedy the kiss situation.

She let her eyes flutter closed, tilting her face up, showing him that she was ready. She did her best to push back on the intruding images of Gage. She wasn't going to think about him. Or the kiss they had shared just an hour and a half ago. Wasn't going to think about the fact that when she thought about kissing, it was him that she wanted. That it was him her body was electrified for even now, readying itself for.

“I had a feeling I would find you here.”

That voice, gravelly, rough and most definitely not belonging to Finn, broke into the moment. Her eyes flew open and she turned, turned to see Gage standing there. And he was, regrettably, not a hallucination.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, still holding on to Finn, who looked more amused than angry.

“I came looking for you. Since you took off from my place like a bat out of hell.”

“You were at his place?” Finn asked.

“It's not like that,” she said.

“You wanted it to be.”

She all but snarled at Gage. “What? You hadn't humiliated me enough? So, you figured you would come down here and finish me off?”

“I figured I would come make sure you weren't doing anything stupid.”

Finn shrugged. “She hasn't done anything stupid yet, but I have a feeling she's about to.”

She wasn't even sure which of them he meant, all she knew was that it was really annoying to be in between two posturing alpha males. Annoying, because they were acting like she wasn't even there. And annoying, because part of her actually got some kind of strange satisfaction out of the deal.

“Stop it,” she said, extricating herself from Finn's hold. If there was one thing she knew for certain, it was that the mood was dead.

There was never a mood. And you know it.

There should have been. Because seriously, any woman should be excited by the attentions of a man like Finn. He was ridiculously good-looking. And yet, she was staring down her enemy, anger and arousal pouring through her blood in equal measure, and she could feel inevitability pounding between them like a drum.

“Why don't we have a talk, Rebecca?” Gage asked, his tone even, conciliatory even. She wasn't fooled.

“It may have escaped your notice, but I wasn't looking for a conversation.”

“You're coming with me,” he said, his tone hard. “If I have to carry you out of this bar, then I will.”

“I don't think that's going to happen,” Finn said, taking a step back from her and crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I'm not letting you carry her out of here.”

She really was grateful to Finn, because he had to be aware that sex was completely off the table at this point, and he was still playing the part of protector.

“Rebecca and I have unfinished business,” Gage said.

“It's finished if she wants it to be,” Finn responded.

Gage turned to her. “You want this jackass fighting on your behalf? Or are you gonna come deal with me yourself? I didn't think you were a coward.”

She bristled, but still, she took a step back. Because she wasn't stupid enough to think that if she went with him this was going to end in another fight. She knew exactly where this was headed. She could stay here with Finn, and whatever happened happened. Maybe she would go to bed with him, maybe she would finally lose her virginity. Or maybe they would just dance. But it wouldn't shake up her life either way. It wouldn't rattle her down to her very core.

But if she went with Gage, she knew exactly what would happen. She could see it. In the heat in his eyes, and she could feel it in the answering heat in her own body.

Rebecca had always been practical. It was the hazard of growing up with just enough. And sometimes not enough. You made do with what you had, and you learned very quickly what you could do without. You knew what necessity was, and what it wasn't.

Gage was a necessity. She knew it. Looking at him, she knew. If it wasn't him, it would never be quite right. It didn't matter if he was first, but it would be him eventually. And if it wasn't... She would always feel it. Feel a bit of unfinished business deep inside of her, an itch that would never be scratched.

And it was all tangled up. In her scars, in his part in them. In her anger at him, and in the way that anger had always driven her. Had always driven her to chase people out of her life, to keep men at an arm's length. It was so many things. Just so many things.

Settling it with Finn really was just a Band-Aid, like she'd been thinking earlier. But, different than she'd been thinking. It would be covering the wound up, not taking any steps to get rid of it.